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Latest stories Straight Sex Eric has a Red-haired Conundrum

(Not quite) the beginning.
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“Ooh! Oh, fuck, baby! Like that! Yeah! Harder! Uhr! Oh, god! Oh, god! C’mon, baby! Fuck me! Like that! Yeah! Uhr-uhn! Huhrr! Oh, shit! Fuck!” Eric sat quietly on the sofa across from the television, unable to find a comfortable position on the beaten cushions.
With his fingers interlocked on his lap, he melted against the cushy, round arm of the old sofa, keeping a wide gap between him and Millie seated by the opposite arm.
Every few minutes, he shifted his eyes to the left as far as they would go in their sockets to see what Millie was up to.
It was pretty much the same as what he was doing: sitting silently while observing hardcore porn.
Eventually, his eyeballs dried out, and he had no choice but to blink and reset his gaze upon the copious grappling unfolding on the television screen.
The thing was, the frenetic sex only served to trigger discomfort rather than anything resembling pleasurable stimulation.
“Oh, god! Drill my hole! Drill my fuck hole, baby! Huhn! Huhn! Huhn! Slam your balls! Ah! Ah! AHH!” “Drill my… fuck hole…” Millie murmured.
The sound of her feather-light voice finally compelled Eric to turn his head cautiously.
One seat cushion separating them, he regarded Millie and sighed.
His anxiety always softened a touch when he saw the woman with the sun-kissed red hair and creamy, cinnamon-speckled complexion, particularly when she wasn’t levelling that probing gaze of hers upon him.
  She sat with her legs – hidden underneath her ankle-length skirt – pulled up onto the sofa and tucked underneath her.
Her hands were curled into loose fists just below the cuffs of her oversized sweater, peeking out like the heads of turtles.
Eric wistfully pictured her lounging on a picnic blanket somewhere under a big tree on a warm summer day.
Anywhere, really, other than in this small, cluttered apartment watching suffocating porn on a tiny television.
.
.
“Yesss! Yesss! Oh, fuck! Harder! Oh, my fucking gawd! Shit! Bang me, baby! Ooohhh! Uhhh!” Eric had lost track of how long the scene had been abusing him – it seemed like forever.
He felt like he was being prodded in the face with a lubed dildo.
Millie, conversely, was as passive as a solitary cloud in the peaceful blue sky, even as the vivid images of a rampaging orgy flooded her retinas and the relentless harangue of groaned vulgarities swirled like sewage into her ear canals.
She may as well have been watching goldfish swim around and around in an aquarium judging from the borderline ennui she displayed.
Blanketed in thought, Eric couldn’t react fast enough when Millie suddenly turned to look at him with her bright green eyes.
They were a glossy jade hue that cajoled the taste of tart lime soda on his tongue whenever he fell into them.
Eric held his breath and glanced away, forcing himself to stare at the television.
The images of porn blended into a morass of jumbled colours; his attention was clearly upon Millie’s stirring.
He sensed that she was still eyeing him, regarding him with cat-like plotting.
It was only a moment, but as each second passed, the tension built at an extraordinary rate, like the pressure of champagne bubbles gurgling beneath the cork in a magnum bottle, ready to pop.
He continued to hold his breath and frowned.
He knew what was coming.
Hoping.
Dreading.
“Eric…” she suddenly said, her voice both breezy and foreboding like a butterfly with a chainsaw.
Gurgle.
Gurgle.
“.
.
.
do you…” she continued slowly, deliberately.
Gurgle.
Gurgle.
Gurgle.
Eric gnawed his upper lip.
From the edge of his vision, he could see her pointing her finger at the television.
“.
.
.
want to try that?” Pop! —0— 6 weeks ago.
.
.
After lunch, Eric walked around his apartment gathering his books and laptop into his bag as he prepared to go to his afternoon lectures.
    ‘His apartment’.
It had been half a year since Eric moved out of his family home, but it was still an odd notion.
It was a modest studio, one of two twin apartments over a corner convenience shop in Chinatown.
Older and well-lived in prior to his arrival, it had taken considerable effort to scrub off the grime, mitigate some of the odours and make note of the spots on the patched wood floor where he should avoid stepping lest his foot fall through.
   Before he had decided to move there, his cousin, Carie, offered to ask about vacancies in her building.
He balked at the idea for two reasons, first and foremost being survival.
Through an odd circumstance, he had somehow ended up in something of a relationship with the sister of Carie’s brawny, obelisk of a neighbour across the hallway from her apartment.
To say that Yana, the blonde, statuesque Belarusian bombshell had turned his world upside down would be an understatement.
Being six-feet tall, a boot camp fitness trainer and an MMA enthusiast, she could literally carry him upside down in a number of holds and clutches.
Mistakenly letting it slip that he was involved with this woman – this non-Chinese woman – flipped his traditional parents upside down as well.
Such was the challenges of a first generation CBC – Canadian Born Chinese.
Much arguing, both calculated and frantic, ensued.
It was not a minor factor in his decision to move out on his own.
The situation finally made him realize that he was ready — and needed — to take control of his social life.
Before that though, he was forced to acknowledge that he and Yana just weren’t meant to be.
  In their brief time together, Yana had opened him up in so many ways.
As a personal trainer, she had pushed him, emboldened him, educated him, made him stronger and explorative of his physical potential.
As a sex partner… well, she did the exact same things… except much, much more intensely and haphazardly.
The sex.
Good lord, the sex.
Yana fancied herself to be a sex-kitten.
Sex-Kraken was more like it.
Yana liked it loud, sloppy, crude and ligament-bendingly rough.
He managed to just barely endure her gruelling boot camp training sessions, but when it came to sex, he simply hoped he would be able to scrape himself off the bed after each time she had her ravenous way with him.
He was a fit guy, but how often had he found himself lying back on the mattress, an inert bystander staring up in delirious awe of an insatiable superwoman? He just bounced around like a limp slab of stale Jell-O at the mercy of her hard body while she rode him bronco style shouting, “Yippie-kai-yay!” in her heavy Eastern accent.
The buxom Yana’s pristine skin would glow white hot before she exploded – literally.
.
.
goddamn.
.
.
exploded – with a gushing climax like an overheated geyser.
No matter how good it felt (before he inevitably went numb from the waist down), no matter how gorgeous she looked, he knew he could never shake that feeling of intimidation – let alone moments of concealed terror – whenever she entered the room in skimpy lingerie and spiked heels.
Along with the legitimate concern that she could accidentally wrench his penis away from his crotch at any second, every explosive experience of punishing sex cost him with another grey strand appearing amongst his crop of onyx hair or a miniscule wrinkle etching upon his otherwise pristine, angular face.
And he was only twenty-two.
  Yana, with her completely carefree attitude, took the break up well.
“Are you sure?” she asked with a coy grin as if she was asking a recovering liposuction patient if he didn’t want to top his rice cracker with a hot fudge sundae.
Eric paused, momentarily lost to her brilliant blue eyes and plush red lips.
Then those brilliant blue eyes narrowed a couple of millimetres as she measured him from head to crotch, and the grin on those plush red lips angled noticeably sharper with the tip of her pink tongue pressing through her pearl white teeth.
Oh, god, she was going to insist on having sex again – raunchy, bone-breaking sex – right… now.
.
.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Eric blurted, then fled.
  While Yana was cool with him initiating their break up, her brother, Vasily, was certainly not.
It confused Eric because Vasily had been hostile to the two of them seeing each other since day one.
Also, the idea that Vasily thought he needed to defend the honour of his sister was just as confounding.
Yana needed her confidence and self-worth defended like the NORAD bunker needed defending from a spitball.
Yet, Eric was sure that Vasily – a tank in t-shirts and denim – wouldn’t hesitate to break him like a twig should they ever cross paths again.
So no, he couldn’t live in the same building for health (ie.
survival) reasons.
Another reason was affordability.
While by no means a luxury condo, he still couldn’t afford to pay the rent there.
Though they hedged their bets with him and continued to help subsidize his education, his parents sure as hell weren’t going to pay for “a den of sodomy” as his converted-Christian mother put it.
He would have to cover the rent himself.
Fortunately, he had a surprisingly progressive grandmother who secretly provided him with a little financial head start with some funds she had socked away.
“Canada is good,” she told him as she pushed an envelope stuffed with cash into his hands, “The drugs are free.
”   So, thanks to his grandmother’s gratefulness to her second country’s Pills For All policies, a steady diet of instant ramen, and a part-time job at a grocery, he was able to afford the rent of this abode.
Though not much further up the residential food chain from a slum, he really couldn’t think of ever going back to living with his parents again.
As he was about to open his front door to leave, he suddenly heard footsteps from the apartment stairwell.
He peered through his peephole.
Momentarily, a figure passed by and he glimpsed a head partially obscured by a large-brimmed hat.
  Eric reached for his doorknob, then paused, noting the sudden irregularity in his heartbeat and the clamminess of his palms.
He frowned.
He had been waiting for the right moment to make a good first impression with his new next-door neighbour who had moved in over the weekend while he was at work.
Yet each time the opportunity arose, his nerves suddenly broke loose like horses from the barn.
   As he listened to his neighbour start to unlock their door, he took a deep breath.
Then he opened his door and stepped out.
He managed a tight smile as he turned in the narrow hallway to regard his neighbour.
Not only was the hat obscuring her face but so was a large cardboard box she was balancing along one arm while she struggled to open the door to her apartment with her free hand.
  “Oh, hey!” Eric blurted, seeing an opportunity open up.
“Do you need some help?” She suddenly froze, key stuck in the knob.
It startled Eric how instantly motionless she’d become, still standing in profile to him, blocked by her hat and the box.
He recalled horror movie scenes that started this way.
Maybe when she turned towards him, her face would be nothing but a gaping wide mouth with razor-sharp teeth – a monster in a floppy hat and a long, denim peasant dress.
Instead, she slowly tilted her head aside just enough to reveal a wary, sleek eye.
Even in the shadow of the brim of her hat, Eric could tell: this was no monster… not even in the same mythical realm.
“Uh, sorry,” Eric said, “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.
” She narrowed her eye upon him.
He pointed back down the hall.
“I’m in apartment A.
We’re, um… I guess we’re neighbours.
” She remained so still for a few seconds.
He wondered if she was actually breathing.
Finally, she turned and faced him still carrying the box.
“Holy… “ Eric cut himself off in mid-thought.
His eyes blinked and widened.
Her full view didn’t simply enhance the hint of alluring beauty previously revealed by her obscured profile features… it magnified it a hundredfold like a telescope zooming in on the glistening moon.
  A pair of feline-sleek eyes stared back at him, each a perfectly blended palette of translucent greens.
Red lips shaped from rosebud moulds and a slender nose rested comfortably in the setting of a milk cream with a dash of cinnamon complexion.
All of this was framed within a cascade of flowing ginger hair, dropping from under the brim of her hat down across her shoulders and back.
Even under the dull, fluorescent lights that flickered in the hallway, it still appeared as if her hair was infused with the summer sun.
Her face seemed to be sculpted specifically to trigger giddy confusion within Eric.
He suddenly heard her sigh impatiently and blinked himself out of his stupor.
The blood rushed to his cheeks and he felt his teeth tingle.
“Eric,” he blurted, thrusting out his hand towards her.
“I mean, I’m Eric… I mean, I’m your neighbour, Eric.
” Stop.
.
.
saying.
.
.
your NAME over and over! Her eyes dropped towards his outstretched hand.
He instantly was aware how clammy and sweaty his palm felt.
Just as she shifted in her feet, he withdrew his hand and wiped it on his pants.
  Don’t do that! She’ll think you’re weird! He quickly stuck his hand back out.
“I’m Eric.
” His brain cringed.
Her eyes tightened into wary slats.
Nothing else on her face even twitched.
Eric counted the seconds in his head.
Finally, she pushed her box at him.
“Oh, uh, yeah.
Let me get that,” he stammered, then took the box.
“Millicent,” she said, extending her hand.
She maintained a cautious gaze but she tilted her head towards her shoulder in a way that made his heart all blubbery once more.
“Hi,” he said, somewhat relieved.
He shifted the box to one arm, realized it was the wrong arm if he were to shake her hand, then shifted it to the other.
As he gathered her hand into his, he noted how pleasantly cool her skin felt.
It exacerbated his anxiety over his own clammy palms.
“Welcome to the building, I guess,” he chuckled nervously.
“It’s nice to finally have a neighbour.
It was so quiet before.
” She cocked her head to the other side, like a puppy reacting to a strange sound.
“Not that I expect you to be loud or anything,” he added.
“But you could be whatever you want to be.
” Oh good, an awkward public service announcement is just perfect.
“It’s just that the walls are so thin between our places.
I think when they subdivided the apartment, they used cardboard.
You could hear everything, you know?” A faint concern pinched her trim, auburn brows.
“Not that I would spy on you or anything!” he interjected, veering around wildly like a dog on ice skates.
“But if you hear any strange noises coming from my place anytime, just come over and tell me.
” Eric coughed up a chuckle as a period to his verbal spewage.
The line of her lips shifted aside as she peered back at him.
She blinked and then her eyes were suddenly looking at his feet.
Another blink and they were moving up his legs and his torso.
After a final blink, she was back to staring at him, unmoved, unaffected, her round eyes absorbing all the light in the room.
Good lord, Eric had never seen a more beautifully suspicious face in his life, even though he felt like he had just been through a body scanner at the airport.
“Okay,” she said.
He wasn’t sure if she was acknowledging anything he had just said or indicating that she was done with him.
After she offered him an indifferent nod, she then turned and resumed unlocking her door.
“Oh.
It was great to meet you,” he replied.
“But I guess we’ll be running into each other every so… uh… “ He didn’t get to finish.
As soon as her door opened, she turned towards him, grabbed her box without making any further eye contact and stepped back into her apartment.
Eric’s mouth remained ajar as he felt the breeze from her door closing on him, sounding like the heavy clang of a bank vault slamming shut.
    —oo— “Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid… “   Eric had been berating himself all afternoon and into the evening after his first encounter with Millicent.
Classes were a complete washout with him garnering a rueful glare from his poli-sci professor who caught him mumbling his “Stupid” mantra during a discussion of Hobbes’ “Leviathan”.
Back at his apartment, he was free to groan the magic words over and over to his heart’s lament, rubbing his knuckles into his forehead as he slumped back into his sofa.
He had no idea why he was like this.
He thought his experiences with Yana had resolved his apprehension with women.
Throughout his teens and early adulthood, friends and family expressed how blessed he was with sharp, good looks, an athletic physique and height.
He could have been recruited for an Asian pop group.
He was also smart and thoughtful, usually.
Why he never had the confidence to pull all of his advantages together and date more women during his formative years was an utter mystery to him and others.
Now with a neighbour who, during their brief encounter in the hall, not only melted his heartstrings but fried them till they were burnt char and gristle, he was even more of an anxious mess.
He wanted to see her again, but how could he even face her after that calamitous introduction? He groaned aloud, “Stupid.
Stupid.
Stu-” Knock, knock, knock.
.
.
Eric froze, mid-groan, his knuckles still digging into his skull.
The knocking was barely audible over his mooing; he wasn’t sure if he had imagined it.
He looked towards his door, holding his breath.
Knock, knock… Before the third knock, he leapt up and scrambled to the door, sliding on the floor in his socks as he arrived.
He peered through the peephole just in time to see a flash of red hair turn away.
  “Crap,” he thought then fumbled with the doorknob before opening his door.
He stepped into the hallway and saw the back of his new neighbour as she was returning to her apartment.
“Hey!” he called.
“Hi!” She paused, standing still for a moment before finally turning around.
“Sorry,” Eric said, “were you knocking at my door?” She blinked then looked around the empty hallway as if to say, “Yeah.
Who else would it have been?” “Is… is there something you want or… ?” Eric asked, trying not to sound too eager.
She peered at him.
“I heard groaning from your apartment.
” A shard of glass split Eric’s gut.
Oh god, she’s thinking he was up to something weird.
He gulped and chuckled, “Oh, yeah.
I… um… I just wasn’t feeling too good at the moment.
School stuff… just… nothing big, you know?” By the sceptical look on her face, it was obvious that she didn’t ‘know’.
“Okay.
Well, I heard you were home, so I wanted to come and ask you something.
” “Oh, sure,” he said, “Anything.
Ask away.
” His thoughts had already raced ahead imagining, despite the considerable hole he had dug himself into, that she was about to invite him into her apartment for maybe a coffee or tea and some neighbourly conversation.
He’ll be able to show her that he was a normal, decent guy, that he was quite charming and witty.
She’d giggle at his jokes and hang on his every word.
They’d spend the whole evening connecting, ordering delivery for dinner, and then talking some more till midnight and past.
They’d move closer and closer together on the sofa till their hands brushed together, then.
.
.
Who was he kidding? “Can you come over?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder to her apartment.
Holy crap! “Now?” he coughed, barely able to eke out the syllable.
She shrugged and started to turn away.
“If you’re too busy… “ “No, no! Yeah.
Sure,” he blurted, “I’m free now.
” As he stepped forward, he noticed her eyes cast downward.
Eric stopped and looked at his feet.
He was in his socks.
“Oh, right.
Hold on for a sec,” he said.
After quickly going to put on some sneakers, he came back out to find the hallway was empty.
Eric walked with feigned calmness towards his neighbour’s apartment.
As he reached the open doorway, he craned his neck around the corner and peeked in.
Apartment B was unsurprisingly a mirror image of his own, just a heck of a lot more cluttered.
Assorted cardboard boxes and large shopping bags blanketed most of the floor space.
The few bits of furniture -a sofa, a small dining table and chair, a coffee table and some free-standing shelves- were also covered by boxes and bags.
A couple of suitcases were open on the floor beside a single bed by the window, clothes spilling out over the edges.
“Millicent?” Eric said, scanning the room for signs of life.
She appeared from behind the open closet door across the room.
“Why are you calling me ‘Millicent’?” she asked.
He blinked, fearful that he may have originally misheard her name.
“I, um… “ She brushed her hands together, swatting off dust.
“People usually call me ‘Millie’.
” Flustered, Eric said, “Sorry, I didn’t know.
” “Of course you didn’t know,” she said, smirking, “I didn’t tell you.
” His brain was beginning to hurt.
“It’s just easier to say ‘Millie’ than ‘Millicent’, isn’t it?” she said, frowning.
Eric nodded slowly.
“Okay.
Sure.
So.
.
.
I can call you ‘Millie’?” “You can call me whatever you want,” she replied with a shrug.
“I was just asking why you called me ‘Millicent’.
” He looked around aimlessly confused.
  Millie bent down to pick up a box.
As she stood, she regarded him, her thin brows angled up.
“Do you want to come in?” Realizing he was still standing outside her doorway, Eric quickly stepped inside.
He scanned the clutter and chuckled, “Still unpacking?” “No,” she replied.
She walked over to another box on the floor and put the one she was carrying on top of it.
“What makes you think that?” “Oh, nothing,” Eric said, quickly shaking his head as he stepped gingerly over a shopping bag.
“I mean you just moved in, so I was guessing you hadn’t settled in yet.
” Millie pursed her lips, once more narrowing her bright green eyes upon him.
After a brief but obvious pause, she asked, “Do you know how to set up a television and video player?” Eric nodded.
“Yeah, sure.
That’s simple enough, I guess,” he said.
“Would you mind, then?” She looked towards the shelf across from her sofa where a very old, first generation flat screen television rested.
Eric’s microwave oven was probably bigger than the screen.
“Sure thing,” he said with a smile, eager to be helpful.
As he stepped towards the shelf, he noticed Millie staring at his feet again.
  “Oh, right,” he said, glancing down at his shoes.
“Sorry.
” Slipping off his sneakers, he went to the shelf and picked up the television.
The grey-coloured plastic housing was cracked but the screen appeared okay.
As he checked the back, he asked, “Do you know where the remote and power cord are?” Millie had just removed a box from her sofa and sat down, tucking in her long skirt.
“I didn’t find those.
” “You mean you can’t find them amongst your boxes?” “No.
I didn’t see them when I found the television.
” “‘Found’?” “On the sidewalk a couple of blocks away.
” “The sidewalk?” Eric asked with a quizzical look.
She nodded back at him.
She didn’t quite fit his image of a junk scavenger, but then again, he was already realizing how difficult it was to pinpoint her character at all.
While he continued to scrutinize the television, Millie finally motioned to stand up and said, “Well, if you can’t set it up, then… “ Eric quickly interrupted, “No.
No.
I might be able to do it.
Where’s the DVD player?” Millie’s dainty nose pointed towards a big box beside his feet.
  Opening the box revealed a spaghetti-like tangle of electronics cables and cords.
Eric pulled them out in one big clump and found an old video player – actually, a combination VCR/DVD player – at the bottom of the box, along with a universal remote and a litter of batteries.
He frowned, questioning in his head if she had also found this on the street (likely) and if it actually still worked (doubtful).
Having learned quickly, he didn’t bother to voice his queries and instead diligently went to work.
Fortunately, as Eric unravelled the jumble of wires, he came across a spare power cord for the television and cables to connect the video player.
As he went about setting up the equipment, he was keenly aware of the silent figure watching him from the sofa.
It was like a tug-of-war struggle not toward Millie’s increasingly compelling face.
From the edge of his sightline, he could see her leaning forward, elbows on her knees, chin and cheeks cradled in her hands which were partially covered by the pulled up cuffs of her sweater, just observing him.
It was immensely distracting.
Eric sighed heavily.
Who knew setting up a television and video player could be so difficult? As he searched for an outlet behind the shelf, Millie asked, ”You’re a student?” He nodded.
“Yeah.
” “High school?” “No,” Eric chuckled, “university.
” “You look younger,” she mused.
He chuckled again.
Funny.
He thought she looked about the same age as himself.
Even though he was graced with that “Asian Fountain of Youth” blood, he didn’t think he could pass for a high school student.
He hoped not.
“Are you a student?” he asked.
“I mean in university?” She gave her head a slight shake.
“I work.
” Though she spoke with a gentle, wispish voice, every sentence she uttered seemed to end with a firm period.
Eric was unsure if she expected him to ask her to elaborate further on her “work”, so he just dropped it.
Once everything was set up and plugged in, Eric held the remote and pointed it at the television.
He paused momentarily, then pressed the power button.
To his surprise and relief, both the television and video player switched on.
He could tell that even with a blank screen the television likely suffered from “burn in” and dead pixels, but he still felt it was a boon that the old, junked monitor simply worked Online Now! Lush Cams Maximus_Diesel “Well,” Eric declared, “there you go.
Do you have anything to try out the player?” Millie stood then walked about her apartment searching the bags.
She brought a canvas tote bag over to Eric and held it open for him.
It contained some unlabelled VHS tapes.
Eric pursed his lips, aborting a grimace.
More found “treasure” undoubtedly.
VHS tapes to boot.
Sure… why not? Randomly selecting one and popping it into the slot, he stood back as the player whirred and clacked.
After some garbled audio, the video unscrambled and a fuzzy picture appeared on the television screen.
“Success,” Eric proclaimed.
Sure, the picture epitomized “recorded on a potato”, but at least they got something.
He watched for a moment, observing a person in an apron behind a kitchen counter talking over food items and pots and pans laid out in front of her.
“I think it’s some sort of old cooking show.
”.
  He looked at Millie standing aside hoping she would be pleased.
Her expression was a placid slate as she gazed at the television.
Her eyes remained fixed on it as she slowly backed away to the sofa and sat down resuming her same seated position as before.
“Uh, do you actually want to watch this?” Eric asked.
“Mm,” Millie hummed with a subtle nod.
“Oh.
Okay,” he replied, then stood pouting his mouth uncertain of what to do next.
Maintaining her attention on the television, Millie pushed the other boxes and bags beside her on the sofa indiscriminately to the floor.
Eric guessed that was her signal to join her.
He had no problem with that.
For several minutes, the two of them sat quietly on opposite sides of the sofa.
Eric really wasn’t paying attention to the show –the chef was making something Italian, he thought– being much more conscious of Millie seated beside him.
She, on the other hand, seemed engrossed in the video despite the bad audio and video.
Curling her legs and feet onto the sofa, she rested her head on her palm and gazed into the fuzzy image, barely blinking.
  A tight grin stretched Eric’s lips while he sat beside her.
He made a couple of feeble attempts to start a conversation, but Millie only responded with “Mm” if she responded at all.
Neither of them moved until the show’s credits began to roll.
Eric sat up and drew a long breath.
Before he had a chance to speak, Millie asked, “Eric, do you want to try that?” “Hmm?” Eric frowned, unsure of what she meant, though he did like hearing her say his name.
He pointed to the television.
“Do you mean what she was cooking?”   Millie nodded once.
He pursed his lips and shrugged.
“I’m not the best cook, but sure.
” Then he smiled to himself suddenly realizing another opportunity to spend some time with her had presented itself.
He quickly added, “Anytime.
” Millie regarded him silently, her chin still resting in her palm, with the expression of someone watching a faucet drip.
“Well,” Eric declared, patting his numb legs, “I, uh, should go… I guess.
” She didn’t bat an eye.
Eric chewed his upper lip then pointed at the door.
“I’ll just go.
” Millie remained on the sofa as he saw himself out, almost forgetting to put on his sneakers.
He looked back from the doorway and gave a half-hearted wave.
“Good night.
” As he headed down the hall, he suddenly heard a soft voice from Apartment B: “Thanks for setting up my television.
” He paused a step before returning to his apartment sporting a huge smile     —oo— Later that night as he was brushing his teeth before bed, Eric heard a soft knock on his door.
He quickly went to answer.
“Millie?” he said trying to reconcile feelings of surprise and excitement to find his neighbour at his door wearing her floppy hat.
“You’re busy,” she said, not as a question but rather a statement of observation.
She stared at his toothbrush clutched in his hand.
“No, not really.
” Eric quickly wiped his paste-covered mouth with his sleeve and shoved his toothbrush into the back pocket of his pants.
He winced.
That probably looked really gross.
Millie cocked her head as she followed his awkward motions with her eyes.
Finally, she regarded him directly and said, “I got the ingredients.
” Eric shook his head, blinking.
“What ingredients?” “For the recipe.
” She held aside two grocery bags in each hand.
“Oh… right.
” Millie nodded towards her apartment.
“So…?” Eric blinked.
“Now? You mean you want to make the recipe now?” She pouted her lip aside, nodding with a shrug.
He paused for momentary thought.
“Okay,” he finally said and took a step towards her.
As soon as her eyes dropped downward, he instantly caught himself and added, “Shoes.
” So, at half-past ten at night, Eric found himself putting on his sneakers only to take them off ten seconds later as he entered Millie’s apartment, then joining her at the kitchen counter to cook… something.
It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t paid much attention to the show earlier; he had no idea what they were making.
Millie passed him a knife and set to work immediately without a word.
Eric just followed her lead, hoping to figure out the recipe a