Kristy stood outside the building looking up at the new sign "Boutique Despair." For weeks she had been watching the men hammer and nail every piece of wood in the small building. She sighed heavily as she looked up at the open windows of the apartment above. She had spent her entire life savings on her dream; dreams don't come easily for a girl from a small town. Most of the time, they were crushed under the feet of the corporate world in a large city. Not this time, she smiled as she thought. Not this time. This time it was her dreams, her mark and no one was going to come between her dreams.
Only a few weeks left and she would finally be able to open shop. She was so attached to the idea that she purchased the only building that contained a one bedroom apartment upstairs. Sure it wasn't some grand scale building but, it was hers and hers alone. She could hardly contain her excitement as it grew daily. That was until she stepped back inside.
Michael Andrews, the heavy set 50 year old forman of Concrete Studios rubbed his prickly jawline as he walked towards her. Walked wasn't exactly the word to describe how he moved, more like wobled. He almost reminded her of the toys from the late seventies that made a short comeback in the late 90's only to fall out again to the public's distate. The song from the commercial echoed in her head as she watched him, causing her to smile to herself. Her smile resulted in an immediate frown once he had approached her.
"Miss. DeMorte" He tried his hardest to entertain the french vernacular of her name but fell short to sounding like DaMortie instead. "We seem to have a problem. Looks like tha wirin's gone bad. Can't be hookin up the lights until it's fixed. Only man we got capable of the job is Julian. He'll be workin the night shift ta fix it fer ya'." He didn't wait for a response only turned his back to shout at some teenage lookin kid to put the damn saftey on the nail gun before he pokes a hole in someone's head.
Kristy's chest sank as she listened to the foreman with wide eyes. Dear god, anyone but Julian, she thought to herself as she shuddered at the thought. Naturally by her reaction one might have expected a repulsive looking troll, drooling and letcherous. It was completely the opposite but uncomfortable nonethe less.
Julian Rebelle was a tall man and well built. At 29 he looked like something that would have come off the cover of GQ Magazine, the real man edition. He was easy on the eyes, and not so easy on the imagination. Normally he would have been the type of man to sweep anyone off their feet. Julian spent the past few weeks stealing glances, no... watching her. She was that, that's what he'd been doing. He watched her every move with those deep grey eyes that looked like the night's sky before a thunderstorm. On occassion she would often smile and say hello only to fall short with no response from him just the constant stare.
Glancing up at the scaffold Julian knelt, sander in head, his body covered with a light perspiration that caused his white wife beater tank to become almost see through. She swallowed hard as his eyes locked on hers. Stepping from one nervous foot to the other Kristy turned and moved towards the foreman. Wincing she pressed for someone else to do the job, anyone else. The foreman laughed explaining that Julian was the best choice for the job and that she was in good hands.
Good hands, she sighed to herself as she looked back up at him only to meet his gaze again. That was the problem, she shivered at the thought... being in his good, strong hands, her body pulled against his, her fingers dancing over the sculpted muscles of his arms, and chest. She jumped snapping her out of her day dream as a hammer broke through a fresh package of tile. The sound echoing in the building.
Sipping her coffee she watched as the men filtered out into the street, one by one. She could have just sat in her apartment all night but then, could she relinquish the control of her new lively hood to anyone. No she couldn't. Kristy made herself busy on the new counters sorting through paper work insuring the inventory about to arrive was correct and that everything matched up. She never heard him until she felt the warm breath on the back of her neck. Swiftly she turned staring up at the chistled face of the man. She felt her knees grow weak for a second before regaining her composure.
"What?!" Her shock and unease echoed from her voice in an irritated manner
Julian watched her, his eyes searching her face, before locking on her eyes, pools of emerald, bittersweet flickers of light dancing amist the alluring sea of green. He was silent as a small grin slowly crept across his mouth. The upper corner of his lip curling slightly, in some Elvis meets Billy Idol snare.
"I want to get between your legs" His voice was low as he spoke his first words to her.
Kristy stared at him with wide eyes. She shook her head as if she didn't hear him right followed by the furrow of her brow. "What did you say to me?"
His smile widened a bit "I said I need to get under the counter. He lifted his hand slowly, a loop of electrical wires in his hand.
Kristy shook her head again and stepped aside to let him through. She was sure she heard something else when he first spoke. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Why was he making her so nervous? Julian kneeled down crawling under the counter adjusting the wiring beneath before turning to climb out. His heat pounded in his chest as his eyes fell against her jean clad legs. Closing his eyes he listened to the material as it rubbed slightly and crinkled with her movements as she transfered the weight from one foot to the other. He inhaled deeply smelling her perfume, and the sweet enticing erotic scent of her body. He had never expected to be drawn to anyone as he was to her. Every day was like an eternity of hell, watching her, memorizing her gestures, her voice, and her scent. What started out as a simple interest had become an obsession. It was the same every night. After the job he did the same thing, went home showered and stared at the pictures of her that plastered his apartment walls before going out and sitting outside her apartment with his camera watching her from the confines of his truck as she past her open window at night. There wasn't a moment that she wasn't on his mind since they met. The torturous dreams that filled his sleep of her body stetched out along a bed inviting his to enter hers plagued him night after night. She was destined to be his and his alone.
All reason left him as he climbed out from beneath the counter, pressing his body against her side. His fingers sweeping over her shoulder as he brushed the hair away from her neck, exposing the porcelain flesh.
As soon as his body pressed against hers, she froze. Her mouth gaped open slowly as a light gasp eminated from her mouth. It took only moments for her to grasp the situation of this man pressed against her, his hands brushing along her skin before she wheeled around, the palm of her hand making contact with the roughness of his stubbled cheek.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She screamed at him as she took a step back. Her eyes widened in horror at the sudden advance.
He lifted a hand to his face rubbing his palm against the now reddened mark that lain across his cheek. His eyes locked on hers as his smile remained.
"Why are you being so difficult Kristina?" His voice was low like the sweet breeze on a warm summer's day lulling you to sleep. In the past few weeks he had never said a word, not to her directly maybe to the pictures and to her in the silent confines of his mind and truck but never directly to her.
Kristy stepped back and shifted her footing to the side as she began to inch her way towards the staircase. Fear filled her body as she watched him, knowing that any further advances could only mean two things, one he was crazy and would hurt her and two, which was worse that she wouldn't be able to stop him, or want to stop him.
