Despite being blue balled and having a beautiful half-naked woman sleeping next to me, I got the best sleep of my life.
People say sleeping like a rock, but it was so deep it felt more like someone had bashed my head in with a rock.
But it seems like I'm going to need a good night's sleep if I have to put up with this woman.
"Wake up, Cafune. You're going to be late."
"Hmm... five more minutes."
Despite her actions yesterday, it still feels a little odd touching her, she's practically a stranger.
With a defeated sigh, I pick myself up from the bed.
Beside the nest of a bed is a bulletin board. A vibrant yellow note is posted to it.
It reads:
43 Falum Rd.
Moxie Maine.
Odd...
"Cafune, did you write this? What is it supposed to mean?"
She is finally getting out of bed, her hair is disheveled, she's halfway topless as the tight shirt fits diagonally, her breasts hanging out.
The morning sun glistens off her shiny bare navel. Without paying any mind to the fact that I'm looking at her, she stretches, causing the other breast to break free of the shirt's shelter.
As much as I want suck her breasts and have her call me a good boy as she pats my head, she's got an interview and I've got... I don't actually have anything.
So maybe there's a chanc- oh, she just pulled her shirt down.
Yawning, she walks over and leans on my shoulder.
"What were you asking about?"
"Can I suc- I mean, did you write this note?"
Squinting her eyes, she tilts her head. "Moxie? Who is that? Like the soda?"
So she didn't write it either?
I'm not really sure who was the last one here, maybe they left it behind?
"Now, can you make me breakfast?" She groans.
"Firstly, you haven't even paid rent, secondly
"Ehhhh? But I'm hungry..."
"Even if I wanted to, there's no food here, I just moved in."
"But if I don't eat, I'm going to wilt into nothing and die..." her words trail off into a whimper.
"If you get ready in 5 minutes, we can stop somewhere on the way."
"Yippie!" She jumps up and hurriedly strips with no concern for the fact that there's someone of the opposite gender standing right next to her.
Despite the volomptious milf right next to me, half of me manages to hold back my primal instincts, the other half of me is to awkward to make the first move anyway.
****
"Hmm, that trench toast was so good!"
She's 40, yet she acts like she's 20.
Humming, she happily struts forward, her expression as blank as a piece of paper, as though she isn't currently broke and kept off the streets by pure charity and sensual desperation.
"I've been meaning to ask you, what is this even an interview for?"
She pauses, tilting her head up as she puts her finger on her lips. "...I do not know."
After spending more time with this woman, I got my answer to yesterday's question... she could give a pebble a run for its money in a brain lacking competition. "You... don't... know?"
An attractive air-headed woman being offered a random job; what could possibly go wrong?
Arriving at the building, it seems to be an office. Yet it looks more like a prison with its tiny windows and concrete frame.
At least it doesn't look shady, just depressing.
Entering the building, every person there looks like their already on their eighth coffee despite it only being 9 in the morning.
A green-haired woman in a suit walks over. "Are you Cafune?"
For some reason, she salutes. "Yes ma'am!"
With a nod, the tired green-haired woman waves her in.
Whipping around Cafune gives me a thumbs up, her blinding excitement like a torch in a cave. "Wish me luck, Mr.Graves."
That's not how titles work.
"I'm sure you've got this." I lie.
With a wave, she enters.
Well, what do I do now?
The joy of unemployment, nothing on my mind except the crushing weight of next month's bills.
Oh shit!
Now that I own the whole 78th floor, I have to pay those bills too!?
I need to find tenets, the first one I found doesn't even have 100$ to her name, and I still have no food in the fridge!
Kneeling on the ground, I feel the dismal expense of reality.
Jumping up, I take a deep breath. I have never been one to dwell on my misfortune!
...actually yes I am.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the note.
"43 Falum Rd."
I should know better, but my curiosity is killing me more than my other dilemmas.