NOTE FROM AUTHOR: This is the final chapter (part 4) in the Two-Family House Series.
Linda sits up. Stretches. Looks at the clock. Shit! It's noon. She didn't mean to sleep this late. But it's Saturday. And she was exhausted. The other night with Melanie and Michael left her feeling zombie-like for days. She finally feels revived.
An hour later. Linda is in a tank top. Braless. Loose lounge pants hang on her hips. Showered. Hair still damp. A cup of fresh coffee in her hand. She sits in the dining room, between the kitchen and living room. Her laptop open on the table. Papers strewn all over. Trying to organize her thoughts. Her boss wants her report by Tuesday. But she keeps looking out the window. Across to the house next door. Her mind on other things. Michael's words to her as he left the other night. Hand on her face. Smug smirk on his. Telling her to expect him this weekend. She sighs. Eyes look back to the laptop. The document is blank. Not one word has been typed. She scolds herself. Concentrate. But other images invade her thoughts. Michael taking her. Forcefully at first. Her giving in. Wanting it. Needing it. A tightness settles around her nipples. They harden. Poking at the material of her top. She stands. She begins to pace.
The shrill sound of the intercom invades her ears. She jumps. Heads over to the buzzer. Michael's voice answers. She stares at the box on the wall. He rings again. A long sigh. She buzzes him in. Door slams. Creaking on the stairs. She listens closely. Are there two sets of footsteps? Her hand on the doorknob. Trembling slightly. She takes a few deep breaths. She opens the door. Michael steps in. Behind him is the other college boy. Smash! Her coffee cup shatters as it hits the floor.
"What the hell?"
Hands immediately grab her wrists. As if he anticipated her first reaction would be to strike him. He is correct. She struggles. But his hands have already gripped her tight.
"Awww, Linda. I thought you'd be happy to see me."
The cocky asshole is smiling at her.
"Fuck you! You said you'd keep your friends out of this." A slight quiver in her voice.
"Well, my roommate here, Joe, he accidentally saw the DVD. So...." He shrugs.
She kicks at him. But her feet are covered only by a pair of flimsy flip flops. He hardly notices. She looks up at him. Eyes glaring. His green eyes stare back.
"Sorry, babe. At least I talked him out of showing it to all of our friends. You'll have to oblige him though, of course." He laughs.
Her teeth clench. His hold on her wrists has loosened somewhat. Quickly, she twists them. Then digs her fingernails into his hands. Hard.
"Fuck! You bitch!"
His hands release her enough for her to pull away. Blind with rage, she lunges at him. Punching. Scratching. Kicking. Screaming at him. Calling him names. The ferocity of her attack takes him by surprise. He can't regain his hold of her. But Joe can. He sneaks up behind her. One hand slaps against her mouth. Screams become muffled noises. The other arm wraps around her waist. Pulling back. Lifting her slightly. Her arms and legs still flail. But Michael is no longer within her reach.
Michael huffs. Catching his breath. Hand up to his face. He feels wetness. Blood. She must have scratched him. He looks at her. She is still struggling. Her eyes ablaze. A short breathless laugh escapes him.
"Shit! I didn't realize what a hellcat you can be."
He steps closer. Her wrists easily imprisoned again by his rough hands . He gives each a sharp tug. Her shoulders cry out in pain.
"Listen closely."
His voice is calm. Too calm. Linda notices it immediately. She stops struggling. Eyes wide. Awaiting his next words.
"I told you before. You can fight all you want. But it's not going to change a thing. And besides, there's two of us now."
He grabs a breast. He squeezes. Hard. Too hard. A stifled cry against Joe's palm.
"And if you ever scratch or hit me like that again, I'll do more than this to you. Clear?"
He twists her tit until her eyes water. A weak nod of her head.
"Good."