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Catcalls and laughter follow us as we walk through what looks like a bar towards a hallway. I don't see any other women around. I lick my lips, suddenly desperate for water.
Zep leads me down a hallway with closed doors on either side. He stops about halfway down and opens the door. A kid - no more than six or seven - springs up from the double bed that takes up most of the space in the room.
“Alex! What are you doing in here?” hisses Zep.
“Nothin’, just hanging out.” The kid is skinny with dark hair and big round eyes.
“Go and find your mother”—Zep stands aside to let him out the door—“and stay out of your father’s way.”
Zep closes the door as the kid escapes, locking it behind him. My face must mirror the question in my head. “It’s to keep others out,” he explains.
“Oh.” I collapse my hands together and look around the room. The bed is neatly made except for the imprint of where the kid has been sitting. Next to a built-in cupboard is a chest of drawers that holds a collection of books on top. A bar fridge hums beside it.
“Bathroom’s through there.” Zep is pointing to a second doorway. “Towels are clean.”
“Okay.” What else can I say? Everything about this day is surreal. I shrug out of the leather vest, or cut as he called it before, and lay it on the bed. “Thanks for letting me wear this.”
He nods, then turns his back and opens a drawer.
Not much is making sense to me right now but one thing I know is I need to get these clothes off and wash away the smell of milk gone bad. I walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I collapse against it and take a long, slow breath in. What the hell am I going to do?
A knock sounds on the bathroom door and I jump, shrieking like a baby.
“Sorry, I found you a shirt you can wear after you shower.”
I suck in another breath, hoping it will settle my hammering heart, and open the door. Zep holds a neatly folded shirt out.
“Thanks. Um, sorry about the screaming.”
He shrugs. “It’s not uncommon around here.”
I shut the door. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Exactly what kind of hell have I walked into? I take another deep breath and decide to get cleaned up and then talk to Zep about taking me home. This was a crazy idea.
The bathroom is just as clean and tidy as the bedroom. And just as sparse. The shower has only one tap and on a hunch, I pull it straight up without adjusting the temperature. Holding my hand under the spray of water, I wait as it changes from cold to lukewarm to absolutely perfect.
“Huh,” I murmur to myself. I strip off my clothes and step under the shower. Milk has dried in patches across my skin and in my hair. A three-in-one hair and body wash sits in the rack hanging from the shower head. That will do.
I lather up and soon the smell of sour milk is replaced with a fresh, citrusy, if somewhat chemically produced, fragrance. Being unsure of the hot water situation, and what I might be keeping Zep from, I wash and rinse as fast and as thoroughly as I can.
I shut the water off and reach for a towel. It smells of sunlight and soap, with an undertone of Zep. I take an extra sniff and bite my bottom lip to keep from sighing out loud. I might have escaped one hell for another, but at least this one has some benefits. The last time I had sex was months ago and the earth didnotmove.
I shake my head. I need to go home, regardless of what’s waiting for me, which means I need to stop having these lust-filled thoughts about Zep and ask him to take me back.
As soon as I’m dry, I reach for the t-shirt. It’s faded and black with tour dates for Faith No More on the back, and the logo fromThe Real Thingalbum on the front. My t-shirt, bra and jeans are filthy, but my underwear has not copped any of the milkshake - thank God. I slip them on and pull the t-shirt over my head. It covers my backside - just.
I comb my long blonde hair out with my fingertips and then fold my soiled clothes into a neat pile. Grabbing my sandals, I open the door to find Zep stripped down to his jeans, lounging on the bed. Tattoos adorn his upper biceps and a smattering of dark hair trails from his belly button to beneath his jeans. He isn’t built like Luci, but he is toned and his stomach is washboard flat. My mind goes blank and I cannot remember what it is I want to ask Zep.
“Here, give me your clothes and I’ll throw them in the wash.” He scoots up from the bed with an agility that makes me wonder what else he could do with that energy.
“Okay.” I hand them over, suddenly very aware that I am staring at the man while wearing nothing but a t-shirt and knickers. Zep seems along the same line and I catch the flash of a smirk before he heads for the door, shutting it behind him.
Who is this guy? Now he’s washing my clothes. The memory of his handkerchief pops into my mind and I wonder what I did with it? On the chest of drawers sits his cut, a soft cloth and a bottle of leather cleaner. If I hadn’t walked through an actual biker gang’s clubhouse and shaken hands with a dude called Lucifer, I’d be starting to doubt that Zep is a member of this gang. He really is an oddity.
The door opens and Zep steps back inside the room.
“I’m gonna shower.”
I nod, moving out of his way. He goes into the bathroom and I hear the shower start. Steam begins billowing out of the open door.Oh my god, he didn’t close the door.Naked Zep is on the other side of this wall, and the door is wide open. Heat immediately pools between my thighs. I sit on the bed and cross my legs.
