The alarm in my apartment suddenly went off, blaring so loud I jumped out of my sleep. It wasn't a doubt, someone had breached my apartment. I quickly sat up, pulled open my bed side shelf and picked my glock 19, a fireman I used to keep around. I quickly checked if it had bullets before taking the safety off. I swerved to the other side of my bed, slightly pulled back by my injured arm. The bullet wound hadn't healed much. I still had bandage wrapped around my naked chest. I was lucky to have survived so I knew whoever it was that shot me must have somehow made their way into my house to finish the job. I had to be vigilant. I had to survive.
I calmly walked to the power outlet in the dining room and shut the lights off, knowing fully well I knew my home better than they do. The darkness was meant to give me a leap ahead, and my intuition was spot on.
Surprisingly, even after I checked every room in my home, I couldn't find anyone, neither did I find a sign of forced entry. Maybe I'm getting paranoid, or maybe it was just a weird dream I quickly woke up from. I dragged my feet as I made my way back to the dining room to turn on the lights, before grabbing a drink from my mini bar. I poured myself a drink, but even that didn't seem to satisfy me. I picked my gun that I had laid down, and the bottle I was pouring from earlier. I staggered towards a single couch in the midst of my living, then sat on it, facing the glass where my swimming pool was. I continuously sipped from the bottle, with the mouth of the pistol touching the ground on my other hand.
I heard hard ponding on the glass door by the swimming pool the next morning and I slowly opened my eyes only to see Isla waving at me. I had unknowingly passed the night in the couch, and I quickly got up to open the door for her. She looked as if she straight up branched at my place before going to office because of how she was dressed.
"Isla, to what do I owe this visit?" I graciously asked.
She smiled softly, completely ignoring me as she walked in. She slide her car keys over my ceramic dinning table before laying down her purse by the table. She looked around swiftly before a wide smirk rested on her face.
"This place could use some cleaning," she commented, as she tried to make her way towards my bedroom.
I quickly got in her way. "Stop acting weird, what is it you want?"
She quickly spotted the pistol I was holding, then took a step back, but she didn't seem frightened like any regular girl would be. In fact, all I could see on her face was an expression of curiosity.
"Why do you have that?"
"This?" I raised the gun up, "I thought someone broke in but maybe I was just hallucinating."
She suddenly leaned closer, placing her palm on my chin. "You've not been getting enough sleep, have you?"
I wanted to answer her, but I still couldn't bring myself to understand why she was at my place, acting up like a housewife. I quickly called out her bluff. "Why are you acting weird, Isla? You are behaving strangely."
She fidgeted a bit, taking her hand off my face. "I'm just tryna make up for what I did."
"What you did? You didn't shoot me."
Her eyes bounced off me. "It was at my place you got shot, so—"
"So what? I'm not holding you responsible for anything."
She wiggled, casually strolling out of my sight. "Let me do some cleaning around here."
I just had to watch her since there wasn't any one of earth that could change Isla's mind whenever she's determined to do something. I watched her arrange my room that I hadn't cleaned up in a while, packed up my socks that I left all over the place, and cleaned the collectibles I had on my shelf. I was completely mesmerized by what she was doing, but I was at the same time confused as to why she was doing all that. At one point, I jumped on the bed, watching her diligently arrange my wardrobe.
"I ain't gonna pay you for this cleaning. You know that right?" I teased her, pulling closer a pillow.
She quickly flipped me off jokingly.
I followed her from the bedroom to the kitchen, teasing her all the way, hoping she would just get mad and leave my house but she didn't. She even did my laundry, then began to prepare a meal for me. I leaned on the dining table, confused by everything she had been doing since the moment she arrived, but I couldn't possibly tell her she was making me feel inconvenient. I just had to play along.
"You can't wait for me to leave, can't you?" She asked, glancing at me while she chopped the vegetables, almost as if she read my mind.
I scoffed quickly, trying to deny her accusations. "No. Not at all, I was just wondering if you called the office you would not be showing up to work today."
She clicked her tongue, packing the vegetables into a bowl, before moving on to the onions.
"Everyone at work sent their greetings," she calmly replied to me.
I instantly got agitated. Without hesitation, I crossed the table to the other side to talk to her. "Hold up, you told everyone I got shot?"
"No, I told them you were sick, weirdo. And that you were taking a bed rest," she replied promptly.
"Oh, I see."
"You should know I know better than that. Rodney is worried by the way," she moved to the stove. "You should call him," she added.
"Sure, I'll."
Everything quickly faded into silence, as I calmly stared at her, a lot of thoughts crossing my mind. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, and a kind one at that and I still hadn't gotten over the night we had together. I calmly took a step closer to her in a way that she wouldn't feel unsafe.
"It's crazy you and I are back in here," I spoke again.
"What's wrong with you and I back here?" She pretentiously asked, seductively glancing at my lips.
"You know," I shrugged, stepping closer to her as I slowly wrapped myself around her, wondering if she would stop me or not. We both slowly turned around, facing the study room. "You know, I fucked you right there on that table and you screamed 'daddy' like a little bitch," I set her gaze on the study table as I romantically bite down on her neck, kissing her to the chest.
I gently pulled up her skirt in a way that wouldn't trigger her, then my fingers made their way up her thighs, slowly into her skirt before sliding into her pant. She reluctantly shut her eyes, moaning softly as my index finger twirled in her wet clit, forcing her to grip the table really tight. She immediately opened her eyes, pulling out my hand slowly like she would love it but couldn't make herself appear that vulnerable, then she scolded me.
"We don't do that. Never," she warned.
I calmly pulled back, knowing I had crossed my boundary. I bite down on my lips as if to regret but I didn't regret doing so, it felt so good. Can't say I was in love with her, but it does feel familiar to be inside her once more. It felt peaceful and anxiety-free.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know what came over me," I pretended to apologize.
"It's fine, I shouldn't have let it gotten that far either."
I helped her prepare the meal, out up a song for her, and we both cleaned my apartment together.
The rest of the day, she repeatedly made food, and we both sat down to eat, far from one another. She didn't lose her guard anymore until she left in the evening. I was not just starting to fall in love with her, but I also longed to feel the familiarity again. I wanted to fuck her once more and hear her scream like a lucky little bitch.
I'm her daddy, she just don't know yet.