Note: I've always skewed towards an omniscient narrator, but with this series I'm experimenting with first-person narration. It creates interesting constraints and opportunities when you can only get inside of one character's head. My plan for this series is to cycle the narrative voice among the characters, with each chapter having a new narrator. We'll see how it goes. I hope you all enjoy it. All characters are in their 20s or older.
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"We just need some privacy! I need you, Ryan!" Jun said, her eyes sparkling, lusty, and cat-like.
It was nice to feel wanted. Honestly, I wanted her too -- a lot.
Jun and I had been dating for just three months, and we had only had sex a few times. Jun still lived with her parents, who were Chinese and conservative. I lived in the dorm for grad students in a suite I shared with three other guys. We couldn't afford a hotel room. Our options were limited. We had managed to use my dorm suite once or twice when my roommates were out. One time Jun had borrowed her dad's car for a date, and she gave me a stellar blow-job in the front seat. But that was about it. And all those experiences had been furtive and rushed. Not once had we had the luxury of both privacy and time.
Jun had a high sex drive, which was clearly frustrated by our living circumstances. And Jun occasionally dropped comments that made me imagine that she had a kinky streak. She would joke about having sex in public places, or blowing me in a men's room. At least I imagined that she was joking. She talked about sex a lot, which was nice. It made me feel wanted. At the same time, it was a little intimidating. I was not a prude, but at that point in my life I was inexperienced. I imagined that I shouldn't talk about sex too much or else I'd create the impression that sex was the only thing I wanted. I fancied myself a gentleman. I wanted Jun to feel secure that I was interested in her brain at least as much as her body.
But my chivalrous impulses aside, Jun and I were young, attractive, fit, horny, and very much into one another. And we had no place to fuck. We were both keyed up and frustrated. This was our dilemma. So here we found ourselves: canoodling in a Starbucks, bemoaning the absence of private space in our lives.
"I know, baby." I responded. "I want you too -- so much! But what can we do? I barely have enough money to eat, let alone to pay for a hotel room."
"They say abstinence makes the heart grow fonder." Jun responded, resigned.
"I don't think that's the expression." I laughed. "We'll figure something out. Maybe I can buy a van over the summer." It's sad that that was the best option I could conceive.
"Excuse me - maybe I can help you two." Said a voice.
It came from behind me. I turned around to look. Sitting in back of me was an older man, perhaps fifty or sixty. He was chubby. Bearded. Balding slightly. Gnomish. I looked him up and down. He was wearing wide-wale corduroy slacks, a flannel shirt, running shoes. He resembled the image I had in my mind's eye of a Beat poet, even though the Beats had all come and gone before I was born.
"Pardon?" Said Jun, whose seat faced the man, before I could respond.
"I'm apologize for eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but overhear you talking about your dilemma. It sucks being young, and in love, and having no privacy. I get it. Totally." He said, dividing his gaze and attention equally between Jun and me.
"I'm Paul, by the way." The man stood and extended his hand to me. "May I join you both for a moment?"
"Sure, I guess. I'm Ryan." I said, shaking his hand. I felt cornered, like there was no other possible response. I didn't really want to talk to this strange man about my love life. At the same time, I didn't want to be rude. Respect your elders, I had always been taught.
Paul reached out to shake Jun's hand as he slid into the chair between Jun and me. He placed his coffee on our table.
"I'm Jun." She offered, also clearly not sure what to make of this outgoing interloper.
"Jun, Ryan -- great to meet you both." Paul said. "So, I know this must seem strange -- but I live just a couple of blocks from here. I have my own apartment. I live alone. I'm a bit of a hermit these days. Nobody else is ever there. You two seem nice, and I guess I'm a sucker for young love. If you need a place to hook up, I'd be willing to offer my room to you. It's always free during the day."
"Oh, gosh," I stammered, "that's kind, but I don't think we could impose upon a stranger like that." My deeply ingrained politeness impelled me to say that instead of 'Get lost you creepy lech!'
"Baby -- don't be hasty." Jun cut me off. "That is a generous offer, to be sure. Would you really open up your apartment to a couple of strangers, Paul?"
"I would." Paul said. "I'm a pretty good judge of people, and you two seem trustworthy, honest. Maybe I'm wrong and you're a couple of serial killers, but I doubt it. I empathize with your plight. I was young once. If you need a place to sneak away together, you can sneak over to my place. I mean, if you want to. No pressure. If the whole idea is just too crazy, you're free to forget I ever suggested it."
Again, I was about to decline -- this did seem too crazy. I couldn't see Jun wanting to meet up for sex in some strange old man's apartment. But before I could say no, Jun jumped in.
"Why not? Could we come over and take a look around first?" She asked. "That seems innocuous enough. What've we got to lose?"
"That's the spirit!" Paul answered. "Would you like to come over now and check it out? It's really just a two-minute walk, and I'm free right now."
Before I had a chance to get a word in edgewise, Jun replied, "Sure! Ryan doesn't have class until this afternoon anyway. Let's check out Paul's pad!"
This absolutely did not feel like a good idea to me. This guy could be a serial killer -- he had brought that up, after all. He could be a creep. He might be trying to rob us. Although I had to concede that we had nothing to steal. I didn't feel comfortable it at all, but I didn't want to undermine Jun. I also found her enthusiasm exciting, I have to admit. Regardless, I felt I had no choice but to go along.
"Uhm, yeah. Ok." I folded, reluctantly.
The three of us walked the two blocks to Paul's apartment. Jun held my hand the whole way, swinging her arm merrily. Paul walked in front of us, leading the way. He asked us about our studies and our coffee preferences. There was hardly time for more small talk than that before we reached the front door of his small red-brick apartment building.
"It's a cozy little place." Paul said, as he unlocked the front gate and held it open for us. "It's quiet. The neighbors are nice, and noise doesn't travel at all from unit to unit. I've lived here for more than twenty years."
'Great,' I thought, 'nobody will hear us scream when you murder us.'
"What's that old cliché about good fences and good neighbors?" Jun asked him.
"Exactly." Paul answered.
He led us up one flight of stairs and inserted his key into the door bearing the number "2."
