Through the Floorboards

1

Sweat dripping, heart racing, feeling the warm and wet sensation of his mouth kissing mine, making my toes curl with my breath caught in my throat, knuckles white from the grip I had on the sheets, and my cheeks a shade of pink that was slowly burning the rest of my face. I was in a wonderland of ecstasy as he reached one of his hands up to cup my breast, playing with my erected nipple ever so gently as if he wasn't fiddling me like a bagpipe at this very second below.

———————

I shot up out of bed as a bucket of freezing water was thrown over me, and a figure appeared at the end of my bed to greet me with a devilish smirk and a now-empty bucket in their hand.

"What the fuck was that for?" I asked as I did a little fidget dance, trying my best to not allow any more wet fabric to touch my skin. She shook her head and laughed at me as if I should know why I deserved water being thrown at me in the morning. I don't think it's the best way to get someone up without causing a bad mood first thing.

"You clearly were having a good dream, and you made sure everyone, and I mean everyone in this block could hear you, I had Mrs. Evans come knocking at the door asking if you could keep it down as her son Felix thinks you were watching that Netflix programme you two are watching without him, she said he asked if he could join you so he doesn't miss out!" She explained, trifling through a laugh, while I looked at her confused "sex dream!, however, it was audible and everyone and their mum heard." My eyes shot open and quickly closed tightly as I mentally cursed myself. I had been moaning out loud since the dream started, which I couldn't tell you how long that was for.

After that intervention, I decided to get myself into a warm shower and prepare for my day and the walk of shame I would have to do to get to work, and poor Felix, what to tell him about what I was doing? You never want to scar a child, especially when it's not your own.

Collecting myself at the door, giving myself two minutes of thinking and breathing time before I eventually opened the door and made my way through the corridor that was slowly becoming busy with schoolchildren and their parents heading to school, as well as the elderly, who apparently like to shop real early in the morning. I mean, it hadn't even hit half eight yet, and here they were trolley in hand, walking slower than a snail before a dog gets hold of it.

Weaving through the disappointed looks from those parents and the curious stares from the children, I managed to make it down to the main gate. Finally, in the clear, I can go about my day guilt-free.

———————

I worked as a journalist for the local paper in Jersey Town; nothing really interesting went on here; the land of Hollywood's unknowns; we write about all sorts of dodge, hoping that one day we would catch our big break; with a population of about 500–1000 people, there isn't much we can write about; there are a few burglaries here and there from people who have been offending since they were little; one guy I wrote about even stole from his own mum, I mean, balaclava, and everything claims he didn't want his mum finding out it was him behind the offence. Madness.

Recently, I got called out to report on a party that had gone wrong and was being used as a cover-up to sell a specific type of drug to partygoers. That story slowly fizzled out once we found out that it wasn't anything but a bunch of lowlifes getting revenge. Pixie sticks! Pixie sticks with dust in them.

So you can see that my job requires little outings and the bare minimum of writing. I am looking for more interesting things and trying to shoot for a bigger, better story, but you can't write much when you can't report on much.