We Both Paid the Same Stranger to Sublet the Same One-Bedroom, and Neither of Us Would Move Out novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Plum Wine

The roof had two lawn chairs, a string of dead Christmas lights.

The whole of Chicago spread out below us like somebody had spilled a jewelry box.

Gloria had left the roof key on top of the coffee cake, with a note.

Take the plum wine up to the roof. It's what the last couple did.

It was midnight, and cold enough that I wore Randy's Carhartt jacket over my tank top.

We'd spent the day pretending to be married.

We'd eaten cake with Dolores, the neighbor across the landing.

She looked at Randy's forearms for a solid minute and said, "Well, good for you, sweetheart."

We'd filed a police report that gave us a number and a shrug.

Now it was just the two of us, a bottle with no label, and a view.

I took a swig from the bottle.

It tasted like plums and something that wanted to be brandy.

"Gloria's a menace," I said.

"She's a saint."

"She's a saint with a master key."

Randy sat in the nearest chair with his boots planted and his big hands loose on his knees.

I stood in front of him with the wine.

"Come here," he said.

"I'm good."

"You're cold."

"I'm fine."

"Tina."

I went.

I sat in his lap sideways, and he opened his coat around me and wrapped his arm across my back.

The heat of his body soaked straight through me.

He kissed me with his mouth full of plum.

It was slow and sweet and then not slow at all.

I put the bottle down on the roof without looking and pushed my fingers into his hair.

"I want to do something," I said against his mouth.

"Anything."

"Sit back."

He sat back.

I slid off his lap onto my knees on the rough tar.

He said, "Tina, the gravel," and I said, "Shut up and give me your jacket."

He spread it under my knees.

I looked up at him from between his thighs, with the lights of the city behind his head.

I undid his belt.

I undid the button of his jeans and the zipper, one tooth at a time, and I watched his throat move as he swallowed.

His cock was already hard, thick and heavy, straining against his boxers.

I freed it and held it in both hands.

"Look at you," I said.

"Don't tease."

"I'm not teasing. I'm admiring."

I licked slowly from the base to the tip, and tasted salt and heat and him.

His head fell back against the aluminum frame.

"Oh, fuck."

I took the head in my mouth, and swirled my tongue around it, and sank down as far as I could.

He was too thick to take all of him.

I used my hand for the rest, and found a rhythm that made him curse under his breath in two languages.

"Tina. Tina. Fuck. Your mouth."

I hummed around him.

His hips jerked and his fingers tangled in my hair, not pulling, just holding on.

I looked up.

He was watching me with his lips parted and his eyes black.

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