Strange Girls Read online

  The next thing I know, I’m standing in the middle of Lydia’s apartment. It looks similar to mine, maybe a bit more taken care of over the years. Boxes are sparsely placed through the tiny apartment with letters written on them indicating which room they should be in. Not that it would matter—the epicenter of the apartment is pretty much like the Four Corners. You could stand there and be in every room at the same time.

  There is one thing I notice as I look around. The contemptress is nowhere to be found. If I hurry, maybe she’ll never realize I was ever here, and Mark could go away.

  I rush over to her sink and fling open the doors. Climbing halfway inside the cabinet, I shut the water off to the sink and pull my wrench out of the waistband of my jeans to check out the pipes. They are old, and sometimes it’s just shit trapped in the lines that causes them to get backed up. These old pipes are not meant to flush solid disposal waste through them, but that bastard would let this place flood first when the pipes explode rather than replace the damn things.

  It’s been a year, that I know of, since anyone has lived here. The valve is probably rusted shut and they didn’t think to check it before she moved in.

  “Now that’s the kind of position a man could get used to being greeted in.”

  Mark.

  I freeze in terror. This can’t be happening.

  “Why don’t you come out from under there. I can fix your pipes after I fix your pipes.” He chuckles sickeningly. His sexually charged, porn star innuendo makes the vomit rise in my throat and twists something in my stomach at the same time.

  Treating this like a bad dream, I slide out from under the sink thinking I can just be on my way quickly and leave him to it. But I know that as soon I stand and face him, I won’t be going anywhere.

  His eyes nearly pop out of his head and his mouth half smiles, half drops open in his shock. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He points his finger at me as his eyes trail down my body. “All this time I thought you were a freak. You just don’t like dick, do you?”

  His words confuse me before their meaning registers. My breaths become faster and faster as I try to understand what he is saying and where this is going, all while I’m screaming at myself for leaving my damn apartment and to run at the same time. I don’t know which voices to listen to, and it is about to push me over an edge I’ve never gotten close to or have ever seen.

  “Wha—”

  Mark advances on me and I step back, the counter digging into my lower back, blocking my escape to the door. His hand slides suggestively down my arm, sending goosebumps in its wake before landing on the wrench clutched tightly in my grasp.

  A million thoughts wage war in my mind—two of them being loudest of them all. It is like having an angel and a demon on opposing sides and I am being pulled between them. The fucking bastards. They should know that I don’t want any part of their shit just as much as I don’t want any part of Mark’s.

  Or did I?

  I really don’t like him, and I really don’t want him to touch me, even though my body is screaming otherwise. I am fucked. Any way I look at this situation, I am completely fucked.

  And I blame it all on Lydia. This is all her fault. Try to do something nice, and look where it lands you: highly medicated and up against a sink with someone who is probably a serial rapist wanting to shove his horse-sized cock into our pipes to clean them out.

  My hand yanks from his hold and slams the wrench into his temple. Mark jerks back and stares at me in disbelief. I nail him again. He drops like a rock at my feet.

  I glance between him and the wrench wondering what the fuck I just did when movement in my peripheral vision startles me.

  Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, wearing only lingerie, is Lydia.

  I’m dumbfounded as she looks at Mark and back to me. In my nervous state, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Horse cock.”

  Chapter Four

  Artemis

  Where the fuck did you come from?

  I’m staring at the shaking, wide-eyed woman standing in my kitchen with a wrench in her hand. Mark is crumpled at her feet, a large bump on the side of his head, and a little bit of blood seeping from a wound.

  “Damn. Didn’t think you’d have it in you, Susie,” I say to her, scratching my head.

  “Sissy,” she corrects, timidly.

  “Same thing,” I reply, waving my hand dismissively. “I’ll agree, though; the man has one hell of a horse cock. Thought about riding it a few times myself, but so far I’ve managed to get him to keep his dick in his pants.”

  She gives me a wide-eyed look, something reminiscent of a nun hearing someone say the word fuck in church, and I grin. Her eyes quickly turn back down toward Mark as she subconsciously taps the wrench against her thigh.

  “Fuck. He’s probably gonna call the cops when he wakes up,” she says, her voice cracking.

  “Nah. I wouldn’t count on it,” I reply with a sly grin.

  She looks back toward me with curiosity peeking out through a veil of freshly forming tears in her eyes, and I raise an eyebrow.

  “Oh, didn’t you know? He has a thing for kiddie porn. Well, barely legal porn; though I really think he secretly wishes for them to be younger. I caught him once in a place I rented from him a few years ago. He was jerking off in my bathroom watching some depraved shit on his phone instead of fixing my toilet. But he’s kind of a hottie, so I just brushed it off and acted like I didn’t see it. It kinda bothers me now that I’m talking about it, but I’m about ninety-seven percent sure that they were teenage girls.”

  She’s shaking now. I don’t know if it’s from fear, rage, or if that’s just her natural reaction to shit. She could be hopped up on meds, but that’s something else I wouldn’t be able to distinguish in the moment, ‘cause I didn’t know her very well.

  “You okay?” I ask curiously.

  “I should hit him again,” she says quietly, raising the wrench over her head.

  I walk over to her quickly and grab her by the wrist, turning it sharply until she drops the wrench. I could talk him out of calling the cops on her, but there’s no way in hell I’d be able to talk the cops out of arresting her for murder.

  “Not so fast there, slugger,” I say gently. “He’s not worth life without parole.”

  She rubs her wrist for a moment before she swiftly leans down to retrieve her wrench then runs out of my apartment, leaving me standing there in my black see-through lingerie for the man that’s currently unconscious on my kitchen floor.

  How is this my life right now?

  I take a seat on the floor, my back against the sink doors, and cross my legs. I think what annoys me the most about my current situation is that she blasted him in the head before he could finish fixing my damn pipes.

  I decide to close my eyes and try to take a nap. Maybe if I sleep a little bit, the lack of caffeine headache will go away and I’ll be more personable when Mark and I both wake up.

  “Ugh,” Mark groans when I am halfway between sleep world and no coffee world. “What the fuck happened?”

  I sigh and open my eyes. He is trying to push himself up, but only manages to turn over and get onto his hands. I smile. I can honestly say in all of the years that I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so fucked up before.

  Now, the obvious question was, would I tell him what happened or would I whip up a little white lie?

  I take him in for a moment. His sturdy arms are wavering a bit, and I chalk it up to the beat down that Susie gave him. The side of his ruggedly handsome face is red and starting to swell, but I’m not in any rush to offer him ice. I’d need water for that.

  “Sleep well?” I ask him with a chuckle.

  “Huh?”

  Mark turns his head slowly toward me, his eyes tightly shut. He blinks a few times before he opens them, and they’re still hazy as he tries to focus on me.

  God, he could be so fucking hot if he knew how to keep his goddamn hands to hi
mself.

  His black hair, usually slicked back, is falling a bit into his eyes, and the dimples that peek out from behind his salt and pepper beard are hiding behind the pain. I’m not sure how old he is, because I never cared to ask him, but I guarantee he has to be at least fifty.

  “Little bitch,” he suddenly seethes, pushing himself up to one knee. “You fucking hit me, didn’t you?”

  “No. I didn’t get all dressed up to put a fire in your dick just to knock you out,” I say dryly, getting to my feet.

  “Then what the fuck happened?” he barks a little too loudly. His hand immediately goes to the side of his head that is swelling now, and he winces when he touches it.

  “You knocked yourself out under the damn sink. I told you to pay attention to what you were doing, you turned around and saw me standing here, and stood up too fast. Don’t know how you managed that pirouette before you went down, but I’d give it a nine point five.”

  He stares at me through narrowed, pained eyes. Normally they are narrowed in some fucked up form of seduction, and I like the light chocolate brown hue that they are, but right now, not so much. He looks like he wants to beat me into the ground.

  Only one way to get out of this mess.

  “Oh come on. If you can get to both of your knees, I bet I can make you feel better,” I purr, moving closer to him and putting a hand gently on the back of his head.

  He looks nervous, which I don’t expect. His eyes tell me that he doesn’t quite trust me, and that he isn’t sure if he should let me give him my own personal brand of nursing. I’m not going to do much, just a quick blowjob to make him forget about the beating he just took, and hopefully get some running water of it, but, instead, he shakes his head.

  “No. Let me fix this shit and leave,” he says, pushing himself shakily to his feet. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Then me and you can have a little discussion about how the fuck I really ended up on the floor.” [TD2]

  I shrug and walk out of the kitchen. Hell, I end up walking clear out of the apartment, not giving a good goddamn who can see the goods. I have to find that Susie girl and let her know that Mark isn’t going to forget this shit anytime soon.

  Chapter Five

  Sissy

  Did I really just do that?

  I race to the sink and grab the bleach out from beneath it. My hand starts to sting as I pour it onto the wrench. It causes me to drop it in the sink. A tiny cut I hadn’t noticed before graces my palm just below the burn bandage, turning an angry shade of red from the chemical.

  Must have been from the teacup earlier.

  I quickly scrub down the wrench and dry it off with a hand towel hanging on the oven door before dropping the wrench and the bleach back under the sink. My feet take on a mind of their own and begin pacing the floor like a marathon runner. My hands aren’t in much better shape as they twist and untwist the towel around my hands and wrists. Both move faster and faster like they are in competition with one another until they have my heart pounding.

  I come to a stop in front of my medicine bottle. I can’t take anymore pills. I am already over my limit for the day and I fear that not being in a completely sober state of mind was one of the reasons I struck Mark to begin with. Plus, I barely have enough to make it to my next refill.

  Whimpering in frustration, I scurry to the bathroom and start the tub. The steam fills the air as I strip off my clothes and add oils to the bath. My reflection in the mirror is a sad one. Blah, stick-straight, light-brown hair rubs my shoulders. The flat color worsens my complexion and makes me look sick. I always thought I resembled a cancer patient waiting for their hair to fall out.

  I sigh and yank the hair back on my head putting a tie around it. Then, I sink into the water and rest back against the ice-cold tub, closing my eyes as I wait for it to finish filling.

  “Jesus Christ!” The shout startles me and I jerk up, sliding in the tub and almost beneath the water that is overflowing onto the floor. “I get it! You have water, I don’t. Are you trying to prove to everyone in the building that you have water too?”

  Lydia twists the handles on the old clawfoot tub. The water shuts off, but not before the pipes groan and rattle. It sounds like they are mocking her. Her hands go to her hips, and she turns on me with her lips pursed.

  The fact she is in my bathroom—one of us nude, the other almost nude—finally clicks in my foggy brain. My knees slide up to my chest, and my arms wrap around them as I look at her with confusion.

  “How—why are you here? In my bathroom?”

  “Really? Of all questions, you’re gonna ask me that first?” Her head bobs, and she wags her finger at me. “Okay, I’ll play.”

  I watch in wonder as Lydia lean down and runs her fingers over the top of the water. Obviously satisfied with it, she lifts one leg and steps into the tub.

  I can feel my eyes growing larger, my breath catching in my lungs as her other foot follows the first one. I scramble backwards, and she sits on the other end, sloshing more water over the sides of the tub. She stretches her arms along both sides, gripping the edges, and cocks her head staring at me.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asks in all seriousness.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I sputter out, waving my hand in her direction. “What’s wrong with you? You just walked into my bathroom and got into the bath with me!”

  Lydia’s brows jerk up to her hairline. “After you broke into my apartment and clobbered our landlord with a wrench. I don’t really think you can point fingers right now, Susie Q.”

  “Sissy!” I shout as I frantically stare over the side of the tub, wondering how long the water was running to have the small ocean in my floor.

  “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “The real problem is this. I have a pissed off Mark, who is thankfully fixing my sink right now, but doesn’t believe that I was so hot that he knocked himself out trying to get a better look at me. Capiche?”

  Her statement keeps the words from falling out my mouth, and it flaps open and closed several times as I attempt to register what she said.

  “I know. I’m shocked too. Who the hell wouldn’t knock themselves out to get a look at me in this getup?” She pulls at one of the straps of her lingerie. “It would hurt my feelings if I gave a fuck, but I don’t. What I do care about is having to deal with Mark’s wrath when I didn’t do shit except offer him some ass to fix my sink today.” She settles back against the tub and shuts her eyes on a loud sigh. “All I wanted was fucking coffee.”

  All I can do is stare at her. I thought I was brave, sneaking into her apartment to do a neighborly deed so she wouldn’t have to deal with Mark. But here she sits, in my bathtub of all places, rubbing against my nude body, and she isn’t even fazed by it. I must be dreaming.

  I reach over and pinch her. She slaps my hand away as she jerks up in the tub.

  “What the fuck?”

  My shoulders rise and fall on their own. “I thought I was dreaming.”

  Exasperated, she spits, “Pinch yourself, then. Not other people.”

  “Why would I do that? It hurts.”

  She opens her mouth, but snaps it shut just as quickly. Her intent stare makes me wonder if she can read my thoughts and is shuffling through my mind. I think I feel her in my head. The disturbing part isn’t that I can feel her, it’s that I don’t think it feels half bad. Only bad things can come from that. It has to stop.

  “I have coffee.”

  Lydia perks right up and smirks at me.

  “And I have a hard on.”

  Our heads turn in unison to see Mark standing in the doorway of my bathroom staring at us like he just discovered the eighth wonder of the world. And he has a massive bulge in his pants.

  “He’s real happy to see you ladies together like this.” He chuckles and glances at me, narrowing his eyes. He knows exactly what happened to him.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Lydia says under her breath. I almost didn’t hear her.

  I sit stock still an
d hope against hope that if I don’t budge he won’t notice me and will move on. But this isn’t Jurassic Park, and he isn’t a T-Rex. He can see me. He can see a lot of me, if the gaze he rakes down to water level is any indication. My nipples half in and half out of the water harden under his gaze, and he bites his lip.

  “Lydia?” I whisper, hoping that Mark won’t hear me.

  “Artemis,” she corrects just as quietly.

  I raise a brow and peek at her out of the corner of my eye. Her lingerie clings to her flesh like a second skin.

  “Don’t look at me in that tone.”

  “Why don’t you two finish whatever you were doing. I’ll go start that coffee.” He steps back, pulling the door with him. “We’re gonna need our energy,” he says with a wink before shutting the door the rest of the way.

  “Should I hit him again?”

  “Not until I get my coffee.”

  Chapter Six

  Artemis

  “So do you think we should kill him?” I ask Susie as I step out of the tub. Where the fuck does this chick keep her towels?

  “What? No!” she squeals loudly.

  I roll my eyes as I pull open every damn drawer she has in her bathroom, until she tells me to check in the small cabinet next to the sink. Ah! There we go. I ponder for a moment giving her a massive heart attack and pulling my soaked lingerie off, but opt to just wrap the towel around myself when I realize it would most likely make her pass out. Don’t need her sinking to the bottom of the tub with Mark around; Christ knows he’d probably try to fuck her while she was unconscious.

  “I was kidding,” I say, turning to face her and crossing my arms over my chest. “Though, if I were you, I’d get some clothes on quick. That fucker is gonna want to have a little “conversation” over coffee.”

  She nods, but waits for me to look away, so I turn my face. When I don’t hear the water move in the slightest, I look back toward her with raised eyebrows and she bites her lower lip and glances longingly at the open cabinet behind me.