Welcome to E. Mayberry
The neighbors seemed so nice. So happy. So friendly.
We pulled into the driveway of a two-story home painted the same eggshell color as the rest of the houses. Reece was stenciled on the mailbox along with the address, house #303. Bastian parked, hopped out, and ran around to my side of the car to open the door and help me out. He took me by the hand and led me into the house.
“This,” he said, “Is my home. Ours if you’d like it that way.”
I didn’t understand. Was he asking me to live with him? To marry him? To be his maid? What?
The inside of the house was immaculately clean. Everything was red, black, and white, very bachelor pad(ish). It definitely needed a woman’s touch.
On the walls were black and white pictures of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, the whole Rat Pack all together, Marilyn Monroe, Charlie Chaplin, and a few others I didn’t recognize. Bastian was definitely fond of old photos.
A jukebox, the old fashioned kind, was placed between the black leather sofa and loveseat.
Red roses were in vases on the end tables.
None of this is important when it comes down to it but I think it’s important to understand how cool it all seemed to me. It was like I’d walked into the home of someone who didn’t give a damn but really did give a damn both at the same time. Does that make sense?
I suppose it doesn’t.
He was a bachelor, a self-created soloist, happy in his world but also longing to share it with someone. I was that someone.
Bastian showed me around the two-story abode, making sure to point out the two large upstairs bathrooms, both with his and her sinks, and the large walk-in closet. He knew enough about women to know that I’d be ecstatic about the closet…once I had some clothes to put in it.
For the moment, one side was filled with his suits and polos and sweaters and slacks. The other side had one black dress on a hanger and pushed to both sides, separated as if to make sure that dress stood under a spotlight of its own, were other clothes, all totally my style.
I looked back at him, confused.
“Are you married?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“I don’t understand. I’m sorry. Please tell me these don’t belong to a girlfriend or something.”
He shook his head.
“An ex-girlfriend?”
“They’re for you,” he said.
That was impossible. He didn’t know my size or my style and he didn’t even know that I would agree to come to his house until earlier that morning.
“I’ve fallen for you, Sunshine,” he said. “I live alone here. But I’m hoping you’ll change that. This is a special place and you’ll find out a lot more very soon. But not just anybody can live here. You have to be…well…let’s just say you have to be sponsored in. And I knew the moment I laid eyes on you, the moment you first smiled at me, that you were the one I wanted to bring here.”
My heart was doing backflips in my chest. I was worthless trash. You could search “Stormy Winters” and find me sucking cock, taking it in the ass, having threesomes…I wasn’t supposed to be in this beautiful house with this gorgeous man.
I suddenly burst into tears, stepped past him, and ran for the stairs. I wanted to get out of there and go back to my shitty life, where I wouldn’t be able to soil his pristine existence. He deserved better. He was a fucking doctor with membership to an exclusive club or whatever this place was.
I was halfway across the living room when he grabbed my arm, spun me around, and yanked me into his embrace. He held me so tight I thought I might soak into his body. Then he kissed me.
Our first kiss.
It was deep and passionate and my mouth opened instantly, accepting his tongue and savoring the flavor of his mouth. I’d never been kissed like that. He breathed into me and I inhaled at the same time, feeling lightheaded as his breath ran through my body and settled somewhere between my thighs. I wanted him.
One of his hands reached up to the back of my head and the other found the small of my back. He pulled me into him even harder. But none of it seemed forced. It was like he couldn’t bring me close enough to him. Like he’d never be satisfied until I’d climbed into his body. That’s how close he wanted me. And it was perfect.
He gripped my ass in both hands and lifted me up where I could wrap my legs around him. Then he carried me upstairs and into the bedroom like a woman he couldn’t wait to make love to, not a porn star he wanted to fuck.
Inside the bedroom, he set me down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shirt. It was the first time I’d ever seen him bare chested and he was ripped with muscle. His body matched his house which matched his personality…immaculate.