Bleeding Heart

The cat paused at the foot of her platform bed, then stood on his hind legs for a better look. The thought of a stray rolling around on her clean sheets would have sent her scrambling as soon as the cat leaped up, but her earlier spying told her that this cat was Seth’s little prince, used to the luxury of a soft bed like the one he had found.

After a quick exploration of the mattress and an approving twitch of his ears, the animal turned and strutted back to the window.

She stroked him from head to tail. ‘I hope you’re not the first of many men to go running from my bed once you’ve had a roll around in it.’

The cat curled onto her lap, and April settled back. She was down to her last mouthful when the sleeping beauty in her arms lifted his head and pricked his ears.

A moment later, April heard a whistle.

‘Marco! Going out! Window’s closing!’ came a husky male voice.

April jostled the cat, but he simply looked up at her and blinked.

‘Go on. I’m not fighting for custody.’ When the cat still didn’t move, she emptied the cup and set it aside, then scooped the cat up into her arms and set him down. ‘Go home.’

Another whistle, this one more insistent than before. ‘Marco! Get your hairy balls in the apartment or else I’ll wax them when I get a hold of you!’

April giggled. ‘Scoot!’

Another blink, another mournful meow, and Marco sat on her foot.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ came the exclamation from downstairs. Accompanied by irritated muttering, the fire escape shuddered with the extra weight. ‘Marco! Come!’

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ April exclaimed as the cat made his way back to her window. She scooped him up and cradled him in her arms, then carefully stepped down to meet his owner.

As the bulky figure loomed up like a movie monster from the level below, April stopped in her tracks.

He wore nothing but low-hung pyjama pants. His chest and shoulders went on and on, and all that bare skin was splashed with patterns of dark ink that made him look unearthly.

He looked from the cat in her arms to her hot face. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ she managed to get out breathlessly. ‘Um, I think this belongs to you. He crashed my party-of-one.’

‘Yeah, he’ll do that,’ he replied, and took the last step to bring him to her level – or, to be more accurate, a good foot and a half over her level. As he closed the gap between them, April found herself wanting to retreat, cat and all, into her apartment and away from this intimidating brick wall of a man.

He quickly plucked the cat from her arms and turned his stare upon her.

‘Sorry about that. If you don’t want him hanging around your window, wipe some Pine-Sol on the sill. He can’t stand the smell.’

‘I don’t mind, really. I…’ she began, but her barbarian landlord was already on his way back down the fire escape. The backside was just as intimidating as the front and went on and on.

The fire escape stopped juddering and then she heard the scrape of a window being closed. She blew out a deep breath and leaned against the brickwork.

‘Welcome to Winsloe Court,’ she muttered, then turned to head back inside, a second session with her new vibrator a definite possibility.

Chapter Three (#ub1906fb1-8f13-5851-89a7-8aa2dd02f24e)

One had to expect hearing the sounds of other tenants when living in an apartment building. God knows he had heard enough of Evie and Ryan’s when they lived there, and in the end he had contributed to those sounds. Then there was Mrs Boyd’s ringer turned up all the way because she could barely hear a thing, and the woman who lived alongside him who worked from home and shouted into her laptop all day in whatever language she happened to be doing business in that week.

But he’d never get used to Katy Perry. God, he hated Katy Perry, and that’s exactly what was coming from April’s apartment, along with the shrieks and laughter of what he could only assume was a girls’ night in.

He sat in front of his computer. His new computer. He’d gotten it the same day as that damned phone and, even though he knew nothing about computers, he knew he had bought himself one hell of a machine. Over a grand, sleek and thin, with keys that lit up when he turned it on. As the sales kid had explained to him the various operating systems, he’d almost felt his mind physically stretch. So he asked for something as close to his old one as possible: just a computer with no touch screen, no navigating through pages of apps, and generally idiot-proof.

He’d walked out of the store with a Macbook and an iPhone. The wireless printer was still in the box, a massive thing that looked like it was more at home in an office than in his apartment. He could claim it all as a business expense in the end, but he’d still have to use it.

For now he was just happy enough to be screwing around online. He preferred the drag-and-drop of his online fantasy civilisation to the tap-tap-tap of his phone’s version. His fingers were too big and the pen-thingy gave his hand cramp, and Marco had figured out it was playtime whenever Seth put his hand on the phone. He’d been trying to text earlier that day and the recipient thought he was having a stroke, with the way the cat kept hitting send.

The cat lounged on the sofa, tail flicking and eyes glaring as he enjoyed a good sulk. With the third instance of ‘I’ve got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire’ Seth had taken the rare and drastic measure of shutting the window, preventing Marco’s usual evening jaunt, and vengeance would no doubt be taken at 3 a.m. with a slap to the face.

Leaning back in his chair, Seth swivelled back and forth as he looked at the clock. Only 9.30 p.m. Quiet time didn’t start until 10 p.m. He couldn’t go up there after her just yet. The music wasn’t so loud to be a nuisance, and he couldn’t be a dick and tell her to turn it off just because that kind of music made him want to bury the claw end of his hammer in his skull.

And, to make it worse, he hadn’t had a smoke all day. That alone would have been enough to push him over the top – or in front of traffic.

His gaze went to the blue and green abstract painting over the sofa, the one Rita had done during her attempt to become an artist.

He knew what she’d say.

Stressed, Wolfman? Well, you know the cure for that, don’t you?

It wasn’t as good as the original cure, but it would do. He got up and went to the bedroom. As soon as he opened the window, Marco bolted through the door, bounced off the bed, then made his exit to chase mice or battle the Joker or whatever Marco did when he was sprung free.

Seth left the window open just enough to let the cat through, then closed the bedroom door behind him and hoped he’d hear the cat scratch before the destruction of his pillow cases started.

Back in the living room, he closed the curtains, then loosened the drawstring on his fleece pants. He pushed everything down to mid-thigh, dropped in front of the computer and went to his favourite porn site.

Getting his cock out was easy. Getting it hard – not so much.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, but he could still hear the subtle thump coming from above.

I can’t get an erection listening to this, he thought, and cast a dubious look at the threesome on screen about to get friendly. I can’t listen to that, either.

He kicked off his pants and went back into the bedroom, where he grabbed the orange earplugs from the nightstand and the small bottle of lube next to it.

If you’re smart, Wolfman, you’ll keep it in your pants for a while longer and see if you can get one of your playmates to come over.

Yet he wasn’t so interested in his playmates after the whole thing with Evie and Ryan. He had enjoyed the intensity that went with doing something a little taboo, and all he got with hook-ups was something wet to put his dick in.

And so, once he stuffed the earplugs in, he slicked his hand and closed his eyes once more to scroll through his short roster of past lovers.

Rita? God, Rita was at her best when she was in control, straddling him and bucking like crazy.

Yet he didn’t linger on Rita. It would get him off, no doubt, but afterwards he’d be left with that hollow feeling that would keep him up all night.

Instead, he conjured Evie. She didn’t have the same bag of tricks as Rita, but she’d been insatiable. She liked it with a little bit more push and shove, and she liked being talked dirty to.

She also came with the bonus of Ryan, whom Seth only liked part of the time but who could suck cock like no one else.

He couldn’t linger on Evie or Ryan too long, either, he discovered as he started to lose his hard-on. Thinking of the couple who used to play in the two apartments above his, he was reminded once more of his solitary state.