Smile! You're on camera

Untitled Part 1

"...Is that my shirt?"
Oh god. Well, that was this lifetime done with, thanks folks, you'd just take your applause and die here and now with your stomach full of paralysing embarrassment and terror.
You were frozen on the spot, the only thing that moved were your shoulders slowly tensing and rising, as if looking as caught as you felt would give you any protection.
He was behind you. Somehow that sneaky old fuck was behind you even though you'd seen the whole Smiths/Sanchez family drive off in the station wagon forty-five minutes ago. The house to yourself for the weekend, with only the dog and yourself to worry about? Yeah right. You should have known it was too good to be true.
Rick – that was, mr Sanchez – cleared his throat behind you, signalling that once again a higher power had failed to wink you out of existence when you most needed it. You turned slowly with a mad, apologetic grin plastered on your face and forced yourself to look at him.
He was outlined by the light in the hall and it was impossible to make out his expression. You clutched your prize in your hands, the stained shirt, half wrapped around the bottle of wine that Beth had given you as a way to thank you for minding the house. The same wine that had convinced you that this treasure hunt would go off without a hitch.
Damn you, wine. At least help me think of an excuse.
"Mr Sanchez!" Stall. That was the only way. "...didn't I see you in the car just now?"

"Hey, you... you're the new neighbour, right? Th-the one with the uh..." He looked you up and down. "The terrible taste in music."
"I guess?"
Rick patted his pocket by way of explanation. "I had to come back for some supplies." He pointedly stepped aside to let you out of his room and now that he was in the light you could see his expression.
It was... calm. With the restraint that threatened worse if you didn't explain yourself to his satisfaction. Elbows still up by your burning ears you slipped past him and caught a whiff of his cologne on your way. That, combined with the drink and the embarrassment nearly pulled you to your knees.
"Is... are the others back with you?"
Rick reached up and pushed you gently but firmly against the wall and if that hadn't pinned you that dark glare and threatening finger under your nose would have done the trick.
"They're not," he growled. "Which means th-th-there's no one around to help you if I-if I don't like your reason for snooping."
He took the shirt from your unresisting hands, looked it over and tossed it to the floor.
"What-what the hell are you after? My DNA?"
You couldn't bring yourself to answer, couldn't find the words, couldn't even make yourself look him in the face. He was so close, you could feel the air between you shift as he moved, and heat up with his anger.
"You spying on me? Please, don't tell me there's people out there stupid enough to think I hide anything valuable in my bedroom... I'm depressed enough as it is."
You shook your head, tried to follow what he was saying and think of something to say to convince him you'd meant nothing wrong. Nothing very wrong, at least. He'd always seemed a little unhinged, but some of the things you'd seen around here... maybe he would have people trying to steal his secrets?
With a deep breath, you forced yourself to look at him. He was watching you right back, searching your features for a clue.
Rick stepped in, looming over you, and you couldn't help but whimper. He frowned in confusion. "You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"
Then he started a little, and looked down at the half empty bottle you still held.
A bemused grin spread across his features and you quickly shut your eyes so you wouldn't have to watch as he put two and two together.
"Fuck... hah. You can't be serious..."

You shouldn't have shut your eyes. You shouldn't have whimpered. You shouldn't have let him pin you to the wall, or smell the alcohol on your breath...
"It's not what you think, mr Sanchez, I was just... I was looking for something to wipe the floor with and this was in the-in your wash basket...."
Rick snorted. "Wipe the floor, is it? That's some evening in you've got planned..."
It was impossible not to laugh at that, not with the alcohol and the nerves and the final admission of this horrible little crush you'd nursed since the week after you moved in. And he reached over to touch your chin and lift it up. You gasped again and looked at him, saw him grinning back.
"Seriously? You-you're... you've got a thing for this old man, do you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"Oh god." Dutch courage. Here to carry you forward into disaster once more.
"Maybe a bit?"
His grip on your chin hardened. His voice was a low, gravelly purr.
"A bit? Just a bit? Tell me, then... what were you planning to do with my clothes?"
"I was... ahh..."
He squeezed tighter for a brief moment. A warning.
"I was going to polish off that bottle of wine and... and fuck myself on the couch... and use the t-shirt to keep myself quiet."
Rick grinned and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "What, really?"
He let go of you and stepped out.
Had it been too much too soon? Was he disgusted? You watched him carefully. Time seemed to stretch out ahead of you as he deliberated.
"Well, fine. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth... so are you gonna show me, or what?"
Fuck. You drew a quick breath with an audible gasp.
This... this was happening. It wouldn't matter if he didn't so much as touched you – just watching him watching you would be enough.
You nodded silently and timidly started walking through to the sitting room, turning every few seconds to make sure he was still stalking behind you.
That smug grin. He was at least thirty years your senior and half the time you'd spoken to him he'd slurred his words too much for you to even understand him. Even safely within your own house you'd heard the rows and the explosions and, urgh, his terrible singing that one time he relieved himself against your mail box like some stray dog. Did he really land a blow above his weight so often that your attraction to him wasn't any sort of shock? Did he own a mirror?
Well. That argument could be countered with the fact that you supposedly had eyes...
"Yeah," he said. Your expression must have betrayed you. "You're fucked, little thing."
Rick flopped down on the sofa and patted the seat beside him with a sleazy little laugh. You sat hesitantly and he immediately pulled you close.
His dark eyes searched yours for one last sign you wanted out and when he didn't find it, they slipped down to your lips.
He was so warm. The hairs on the back of your arms rose up, you shut your eyes and parted your lips and waited... then finally he leaned down to taste them.
He started out so soft, so gentle, teased your mouth open with his tongue and deepened the kiss once you moaned and relaxed in his arms. It was an obvious distraction. His hands already roamed across your back and tugged at the hem of your t-shirt. His touch was too firm to tickle. As soon as his skin was against yours you whined into his mouth, kissed him faster, helped him first get under the tee then past the zipper of your jeans.
Rick was calm and steady and laughed cruelly when your hands shook too much for you to hurry.
"Get them off," he breathed between kisses. "I wanna see what you look like when you're fantasising about this rickety old man..."
"Oh god..." You pulled away for a second and awkwardly squirmed yourself free from your pants and your top.
The dark, hungry look on his face as he tracked every inch of skin you bared for him burned any hesitation from your heart. He liked what he saw, that much was obvious.
As you spread your legs and he could finally see through the cotton of your underwear just how wet you were for him, he actually swallowed – you could see his Adam's apple move.
"I-I-I'm starting t-to believe you about needing a rag. Take them off. Show me."
Wordlessly you reached for his belt, just so you wouldn't have to be the only one naked in the middle of the room. Rick grunted when your fingers brushed over his hard on but pushed you off with a smile.
"Plenty time for you to take care of me later, sweetie. Now. Are you deaf or what? Show me."
Goddamn it. Of course you wanted to obey him, and not just because it'd finally give your starved cunt some much needed friction. Your pants actually made a smacking noise when they met the floor, and Rick cackled again, then roughly pulled your knee so you were spread open for him.