She Did a Bad, Bad Thing. Stephanie Bond

      How long had it been since she’d had sex? There hadn’t been anyone since James, and the last few times with him had been a letdown.

      Who was she kidding? Every time with James had been a letdown. Every time with every guy—not that there’d been that many—had been a letdown. None of her encounters with men had lived up to the fantasies she’d spun in her head, not one of them had left her feeling like this…with desire coiled tightly in her stomach, aching for release.

      Meanwhile, next door, the woman let go with the intensity and the volume of a hurricane, screeching and banging in a clatter that grated on Jane’s nerves like a fire alarm sounding. Unreasonable anger rose in her chest and she pushed to her feet. She would not be subjected to this kind of…exhibitionism in her own home!

      Striding out into the hallway, she knocked loudly on Perry’s door, and when he didn’t answer, she knocked again, her ire rising even higher. She had lifted her arm to bang on his door again when it suddenly swung open, revealing her neighbor in his long glory, his hair tousled and wearing the jeans that now were only half-zipped. And she had the feeling that this time, he definitely wasn’t wearing underwear.

      He gave her a lopsided smile. “Can I help you, uh…what was your name again?”

      “Jane,” she snapped.

      “Right. What can I do for you?”

      “You can take it down a notch.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean that you and I share a wall and I can hear your…music.”

      “Okay, I’ll turn down the volume on the stereo.” He started to close the door, but she held up her hand. Knowing what he’d done to generate the sheen of perspiration on his chest threatened to tie her tongue in knots, but she reminded herself that she was the victim here. “I can also hear your, um…activities.”

      He blinked. “Activities?”

      She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “Both times.”

      His dark eyebrows shot up, then a devilish smile curved his mouth. “And on a scale of one to ten?”

      She gasped, outraged. “I didn’t come over to score you, Mr.—”

      “Brewer,” he supplied.

      Her mouth tightened. “Mr. Brewer, I came over to ask you as a neighbor to please keep the noise down.”

      “I’ll try,” he said cheerfully, “but I can’t make any promises.” Then he stepped back and closed the door.

      Jane stood there for a few seconds, feeling like a fool. She slunk back to her condo, furious to see that her show had ended, then paced the living room with pent-up energy. To escape, she poured herself a glass of wine and went out to sit on her tiny balcony that faced west, overlooking the lights of Midtown.

      Adrenaline coursed through her body—anger, embarrassment, frustration. She felt as if she were coming out of her skin, and couldn’t rightly blame all of it on her neighbor’s unwitting intrusion. Maybe she was coming down with something…maybe she was experiencing some sort of chemical imbalance. That would explain this profound restlessness that, in truth, had preceded her breakup with James, but had escalated afterward. She had the strangest sensation that her life was careening downhill, picking up speed, but headed nowhere. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, just a feeling of being…unfulfilled.

      When she heard the slide of her neighbor’s balcony door opening, her heart sank—with him permeating her living space, her balcony was her last sanctuary. A tall concrete wall separated their balconies, but that wouldn’t keep her from hearing their call of the wild should they decide to move their gymnastics outdoors. She braced herself for more lewd noises.

      Instead, the woman’s high-pitched laugh reached her ears. “I can’t believe your nerdy neighbor came over to tell you that she heard us having sex through the walls. How rude!”

      Brewer’s laugh was short. “More like a prude.”

      Heat rose in Jane’s face and she sank lower in her chair.

      “Maybe you should find someplace else to live,” his partner suggested, then she laughed. “Because we’re going to drive her crazy. And then, she’s going to drive you crazy.”

      “Why should I leave?” Brewer said. “Because I had the misfortune of moving in next to a homely little geek who’s probably never had a good lay and has nothing better to do than listen to other people get it on?”

      Jane inhaled sharply against the pain in her chest. Her skin burned with needles of humiliation…is that how other people saw her? Emotion clogged her throat and tears pricked her eyes. She stood up abruptly, distantly registering the fact that she’d dropped her wine glass, but not caring as she fled inside.

      PERRY HEARD the sound of glass crashing on the other side of the balcony wall. He winced, realizing that his neighbor—Jane, wasn’t it?—had been sitting on the other side and had very likely heard what he’d said. Damn.

      “What was that?” Kayla asked.

      “Nothing,” he said, feeling like a heel as he lifted his beer to drain it. “Maybe you should go—I have to be in court in the morning and I still have some files to go through.”

      Kayla pouted. “Okay. When will I see you again?”

      “Soon,” he promised, escorting her back inside and toward the door. He lowered a perfunctory kiss on her mouth, and shepherded her out into the hall, sending her off with a wave.

      Then he paused and looked at his neighbor’s door, wondering if he should apologize, how he could apologize for calling her a…He squinted to remember.

      A homely little geek who’s probably never had a good lay.

      He cringed, thinking that no matter how mousy the woman was, she didn’t deserve that kind of put-down. His mother had raised him better than that.

      Perry pulled on his chin and vowed to find a way to make it up to Jane what’s-her-name…somehow.

      3

      THE NEXT MORNING, Jane stepped out into the hallway and set down a bag of garbage so she could lock her condo door. She blinked rapidly to focus on the lock through the sunglasses—ridiculous, but necessary to hide her gritty, puffy eyes. Her new neighbor and his girlfriend would get a good belly laugh if they knew that their offhand remarks about her sad little life had caused her a sleepless night of crying into her pillow. She was quite sure she was so insignificant to them that they wouldn’t even recall what they’d said.

      While she struggled to slide the key into the keyhole, her new neighbor’s door opened, to her dismay. She didn’t look up, just stabbed at the keyhole as a flush raced up her neck and face.

      “Good morning,” he said.

      “Morning,” she murmured, keeping her back to him.

      “Having problems?”

      “No.” She set her jaw and tried to steady her hand, but she continued to fumble.

      Suddenly a large hand closed over hers gently. “Let me.”

      She stiffened, but relinquished the key and stepped back from his big body just to escape his touch. She turned, expecting to see his girlfriend loitering nearby, but he was alone, and dressed in a suit as best as she could tell through her dark lenses. His briefcase sat on the floor next to her garbage bag.

      The deadbolt clicked. Then he turned and handed her the keys, flashing a smile.

      “Thanks,” she muttered.

      “Hey, no wonder you couldn’t see,” he said with a laugh. “What’s up with the shades?”

      And