Landlord ch.4

He still felt the same. Maybe something had changed. She was lonely now, and he had a home, even if he rented it for a pitiful amount just because he got lucky and some woman liked him, and he now had a better car, but...

It was still ridiculous, but beyond that, she wasn't in a place for such things. She was clearly fucked up by what happened...

He still wondered about it. Who could betray her? Seriously? She was one of the most incredible and attractive women he had ever met.

"Oh!" he groaned as something popped loudly in his lower back.

She laughed. "You had a knot there... sorry. That's the only way to get them out."

"No, it's okay, just... surprising. Though it hurt, but it feels much better now."

"You have a lot of tension, but that's quite normal." She paused for a moment as she continued massaging his back.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she suddenly asked.

"No," he replied, glad that he brought it up earlier. Or maybe he hadn't. Both of their minds seemed burned out at the moment.

"Any potential ones?" she asked. "Not really... why?"

"I just... don't want to get in your way. If you have a date or some girl you hope to go out with, it would be quite weird to find me here," she said.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but no. There's no one. When I started putting my nose to the grindstone and actually figuring out this rune shit, I decided to just give up on looking for a girl for now. Like all those people in bars tell you, focus on yourself first."

"It seems to be working, apparently," she replied.

"Yeah, I just hope it keeps working. Honestly, the fact that I can pay all my bills by making a couple of toys is a lot. Like, a lot. It'll keep me happy for quite a long time," he said.

"I can imagine."

She sprayed his back two more times over the next few minutes, and then stopped.

"Thank you, seriously," he said as he put his shirt back on. "That was amazing. You're really good at this. I feel so much better." He turned back around to face her.

"You're welcome," she replied with satisfaction.

He wasn't sure why, but all at once, he decided to take a shot at something. "Do you want me to return the favor? I'm not as good as you, but..."

"I wouldn't mind," she said and quickly took off her t-shirt, as if she expected him to ask.

He couldn't help it.

His eyes darted down to her chest, to her rather large breasts contained in a bra. Harry prepared himself for some reprimand, but she just smiled and turned around, showing him her back. He pushed forward, intending to repay the favor (and, okay, yeah, if he was being completely honest: get to touch her).

He began massaging her shoulders.

"Can you slide the straps down?" she said softly.

"Uh... okay," he awkwardly replied, pushing her bra straps aside and resuming his massage. Her skin was soft, warm, smooth, and mostly flawless. As he started massaging her shoulders, she let out a long 'mmm...' that sounded almost intentionally sexual.

"That feels really good," she purred as he continued, kneading her smooth, pale skin.

"I'm glad you like it," he responded, more for something to say than anything else. "It's been a while since I've done this."

"Well, you definitely haven't lost your touch." There was something about the whole situation that made his instincts scream in a very specific way. Was she... teasing him? She couldn't be hitting on him, she didn't come here for that. And yet, in her movements, tone of voice, and gaze, there was something oddly inviting. He must be imagining it. Probably. It was just a product of a lonely, horny mind being near the woman he had been crushing on for over a year. But even if she was doing something, he couldn't blame her.

Even if you didn't intend to pursue it, it would be nice to know that someone finds you attractive.

But that would be a bit cruel. Harry moved lower, getting between her shoulder blades.

She hissed, shifting slightly. "You can unhook it to make it easier to get under," she murmured.

Harry swallowed. He didn't say anything, not trusting his own voice, and instead unhooked her bra and continued the massage. Her bra hung loosely, not falling completely, but undoubtedly exposing much of her ample breasts now.

Damn, he wished there was a mirror in front of them. On the other hand, if there was, she would see how tense and awkward he looked.

"You're catching on quite quickly," she said with a small laugh.

"I've had some practice," he replied, clearing his throat.

"Harry, there's no reason for it to be weird. I mean, we're both adults."

Was she scolding him or inviting him? Or maybe just playing with him? Jesus, he was going to lose his mind.

"Yeah," he agreed and closed his mouth again because he was about to say something stupid.

He continued massaging her back, moving lower, and she let out a series of louder moans as he reached her lower back.

"Right there," she said, her voice low, "my lower back always aches now."

He continued for a few more minutes before finally stopping. This was starting to become a bit too much. Actually, it had been almost thirteen months since he had been with anyone, and he was forcefully reminded of how much he missed it.

"Thank you," she said as she reached up and started to fasten her bra again, but then hesitated. "Actually, would it be too weird if I took it off? I hate wearing bras."

"Uh... I wouldn't mind," he replied.

"Alright." She took it off and set it aside on the side of the couch, then pulled her t-shirt back on. When she turned around, her breasts were less exposed and shaped by the bra, but now her nipples were particularly pronounced, pressing against the fabric. "Thanks, I know many people find it strange, but I hate bras. Most women do, from what I gather." She let out a satisfied sigh and settled back on the couch. "Oh, this is so much better. Pizza, massage, and a movie. Just being here makes me feel so much better. It probably helped that I already cried my eyes out before coming here. Let me tell you, a good, hard cry just soothes you."

"I can imagine," Harry murmured, but something suddenly worried him. Something he realized he was missing. He looked around... "Ah crap," he muttered as he realized it.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked.

"It just occurred to me... where are you going to sleep? Because this couch is clearly too small for you... it might even be too small for me. And I don't have anything else. Literally, the only two sleeping pieces of furniture in the house are the bed and the couch..."

"Oh, well... I think if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind sharing."

"Sharing... what?" he asked.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "The bed, Harry. You're right, I can't sleep on this couch. And I'm not going to make you sleep on your own couch. And I don't think either of us could sleep on the floor. The only logical solution is to share the bed. But if that's really a problem, I can still go get a hotel."

"No, I mean... if you're really offering then, um... yeah, that could work," he replied, trying to keep his pulse under control and hoping that the erection he was feeling wasn't too obvious. If anything, she just seemed mildly amused.

"Great! In that case, I'm going to go take a shower. If you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Do whatever you want. Take a shower whenever you want. I guess the only real boundary I have, beyond obvious things like 'don't steal from me' and 'don't make a mess,' is that usually when I'm in my office, I wouldn't want to be disturbed."

"That makes sense," she said. "And... thank you. For being so accommodating and kind."

"You're welcome."

She grabbed her backpack, then headed further into the house towards the bathroom. Harry gave in and checked out her ass. She had such an amazing ass. She was wearing jeans, and her wide hips and perfect, ample curves filled out those jeans so nicely. Good Lord. He stood in the living room for a moment, listening as she turned on the shower and undressed. This was going to be difficult. The sense of surrealism only grew stronger. How did he end up here? Earlier today, he was moving into his new house, worrying about the future, feeling lonely. Now he had a naked, incredibly hot, recently single, stunning blonde in his bathroom, who was going to share his bed.

It was torturous because he knew there was no way they would ever get together. No matter how desperately he wanted it.

Harry looked out the window. It was already dark, well past sunset. They must have talked much longer than he realized. On the other hand, it was November, and the sun set quite early now. He was tired; it had been an emotionally and physically draining day. He decided to make sure the bed was ready, and as he walked down the hallway that connected all the rooms in the house, he noticed something was off.

He could hear the shower too clearly.

Looking at the bathroom door, he saw that it was slightly ajar, about an inch or so. That didn't seem right. Could she have overlooked it? From what he remembered, Daphne was a very detail-oriented person, and he thought she would be particularly conscious of whether the door separating her from the rest of the household and anyone inside was closed when she was naked and showering. Did she leave it open on purpose? If so, why? Was she teasing him? Did she hope he would spy on her?

For a few seconds, the temptation to go and take a peek was almost overwhelming, and he almost did it. But he managed to restrain himself.

As he walked back to his bedroom, he heard his name being called.

He jerked in surprise, then took a second to calm himself and approached the door. "Yes?" he asked.

"I just realized I forgot my toothbrush... and toothpaste," she said.

"There's enough toothpaste for both of us, and I have a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet," he replied.

"I can't hear you clearly," she said.

Fuck! This had to be deliberate, right? He could hear her clearly... but she was in the shower...

He approached the crack in the door and peeked inside. His shower curtain was only semi-transparent, and he could see her sensual silhouette through it. He repeated to himself and was amazed that his voice didn't break.

"Thank you! I appreciate it," she said cheerfully.

"No problem," he replied, lingering just for a few seconds, both looking at her and battling with himself in his mind about whether to close the door or not. Ultimately, he decided to leave it open and simply returned to his bedroom.

This was going to be really, really difficult.

He waited, uncertain of what to do with himself after making sure the bed was well made and clean, even though he had done it earlier in the day. He double-checked the locks on the back and front doors, as well as the locks on the windows, and even the stone slabs more out of uncertainty than paranoia, waiting for her to finish showering. Eventually, she did, and when she emerged from the bathroom, she was dressed in another t-shirt, the thinner one, and some shorts that showed off a damn lot of her thick, pale thighs.

"Well, I'm pretty worn out," she said. "What time is it?"

"Nine," he answered.

"Damn, only nine. I'm getting old," she groaned. "Would it bother you if I read in bed?"

"Not at all," he replied. "Thank you. You're a really nice friend..." She paused. "Would you say we're friends, right?"