Now in the heart of the city alongside every other homeless person, it was as if the reality of it all had hit me. After a month of living downtown, and attempting to stay as far away from the masses of homeless as possible, I was twenty-two years old and afraid of what my life had become. Being homeless was no longer a desire of mine, and seeing the city’s more elderly homeless pass by me every day provided a reminder of what I had to look forward to.
Absolutely nothing.
I stood in the corner of the elevator and attempted to take every inch of him into my view without staring. He wore jeans, what seemed to be a tailored black Harley-Davidson jacket, and laced biker boots. His rough appearance made him seem sinful. His smile told me otherwise, that he was caring. Well within my imagination, he was becoming a little of both.
As I rode up the elevator with Ethan, I had yet another fear; my inability to say no to sex. If someone was considerate, paid attention to me, or provided so much as an ounce of care, it seemed I let them have their way with me sexually. I didn’t look at it as a requirement or payment of sort, but more of a way for them to express a greater degree of concern for my well-being. My appreciation of their kindness was spreading my legs, and their acceptance of my offer acted as confirmation of their deeper feelings for me.
For me, sex provided a feeling of comfort. During and after sex, I felt as if my partner had become my guardian, and along with it came a tremendous rush of relief. I realized the feeling was false, but the comfort lasted far beyond the physical contact, often for weeks or even a month afterward. As a result, I couldn’t count the amount of people I had sex with – it would be impossible.
I had never, however, known or felt love.
On any level.
“Here we are, number 7,” Ethan said as the bell rang and the elevator door began to open.
I glanced toward the keypad and pushed the door close button. The door shuddered mid-way through opening and began to close.
He shrugged his shoulders and scrunched his nose as he ran his fingers through his thick hair, “What are you doing?”
“I like pushing the buttons and watching the door open and close, it’s fun,” I sighed, realizing I probably looked like an immature child in doing so.
Ethan reached for the keypad and pushed 8, 9, 10, and 11. As the elevator began to rise, he pushed 7. The elevator raised one floor and the door began to open. He glanced in my direction and tilted his head toward the keypad.
I reached for the door close button and pressed it.
As the door immediately stopped opening and began to go closed, I turned toward him and grinned.
So far, I like you.
Ethan was an extremely attractive man. His thick brown hair was almost to his shoulders, and seemed to be very clean. Although his face was covered in stubble, it wasn’t enough to hide his strong jawline or the fact that he was also in good physical condition. Overall, his face was well constructed and a far above average portrayal of the male species. As the elevator stopped at each floor, I wondered exactly what it was he wanted from me. No one had ever given me anything without expecting something in return. What, I wondered, would make him treat me any differently than anyone else?
“So, if I was some 60 year old homeless man, would you have offered to feed me Mexican food and get me inside and out of the weather?” I asked at the same time the elevator reached the seventh floor.
“Same circumstances?” he asked as he reached for the door.
I stood firm in the rear corner of the elevator as if his response might make a difference. I knew better, but I needed to know the answer. I pulled my beanie down tight on my head and lowered my chin slightly as I glanced down at my dingy shoes.
Tell me a lie if you have to.
“Yeah, same circumstances,” I said under my breath as I continued to stare at the tips of my shoes.
“I sure would have,” he responded.
I exhaled a breath, glanced upward, and smiled.
Thank you.
I liked looking at Ethan much more with his sunglasses off. He seemed honest and caring. The tattoos on his knuckles made me wonder if he had a little story to tell as well. As the elevator began to buzz, the door started to close. He pulled against it and tilted his head playfully toward the opening. As the buzzing continued, I grinned, shifted the weight of my pack, and stepped into the hallway.
“Follow me. 724, it’s at the end of the hallway on the right,” he said as he walked past me.
“You got it, boss,” I said as attempted to match his stride.
As he put the key into the lock and turned it, he tilted his head toward me, “Ready?”
I shrugged my shoulders, “Suppose so.”
He pushed the door open and motioned inside.
The home was immaculate and in no way what I expected. I stood and stared. High ceilings with an open floor plan made the space seem much larger than it was, but it was very spacious regardless. Upon entering, a large kitchen was on my left, separated from the entry hallway by a long bar. In awe of the openness, I gazed around the loft and grinned. The entire north wall was covered in windows from the floor to the very high ceiling, and the area immediately adjacent to the windows was furnished as the living area. A table and chairs in the far corner was apparently the dining area, and beyond it, two open bedroom doors. Above the bedroom doors was an open second floor. I glanced around the living room. The furniture was obviously expensive and a combination of leather and various fabrics. Three couches, one large chair, and a loveseat filled the living area. A leather ottoman sat in front of the couch facing the wall with the television on it. Although the television was mounted high on the wall, there were no visible wires.
Weird, maybe it’s just a decoration.
The bathroom door opened and a younger man stepped into the room. As he walked past, he studied me. He smelled like sunshine and flowers, and looked like he belonged on the front cover of a magazine at the library. As I stood and stared at him, he smiled and held his hand outward.
“Rain, this is Cade. Cade, this is Rain,” Ethan said.
Cade was tall and thin, and his perfectly styled hair was cut in a modern business style. I tilted my head in his direction, “Nice to meet you. This is a really nice place.”
“Thank you,” he said as he tossed his head toward the bathroom door. As he did, his hair followed close behind, “Not to sound pretentious or pompous at all, but if you’d like, you can shower before we eat. I just put a clean towel and washcloth on the sink. There’s everything you need in the shower, including a new razor. Dinner should be done in twenty minutes or so.”
I glanced toward Ethan.
He grinned and nodded his head.
I was used to it. Almost always, men wanted me to bathe before they had sex with me. If they only wanted a blowjob, they didn’t seem to care if I was clean. If they wanted sex, they always wanted me to get cleaned up first. As I gazed through the bathroom door, a small part of me hoped they’d both fuck me. A larger part of me hoped they were simply being courteous.
It would be nice for things to be different for just one night.
“You sure?” I asked as I shifted the weight of my pack.
“Quite,” Cade responded.
“It’s fine,” Ethan added, “And when you’re done you’re more than welcome to use the washing machine to clean any of your clothes. Water’s free here, so don’t worry. I’m sure this storm is going to last a while.”
I turned toward Ethan and raised one eyebrow, “Free water?”