I Can't Own You? (BOOK 1)

4

I rush to a green apple and dark wood kitchen, feeling my pounding heartbeat. I grab a used pot from the cluttered sink, and kneel on the floor, having a sentimental struggle. "Fuck! " I grunt, taking in a shuddering breath, before placing my phone on the floor and using the pot in my other hand to demolish it. I bang the screen in five times, hearing the glass shatter, seeing the metal under-workings.

I then run to my bathroom, another junk area with clothes and shoes all over the floor. I open the medicine cabinet and get a pink makeup bag out. Contour bish! Here's the thing about me...I'm a boy with a baby face and a small Adam's apple, so when I do my shit, I legit look like a girl. I can even change my voice to sound like one. Desperate times cause for desperate measures. The card guy wouldn't suspect that because he heard a guy's voice on the phone.

I need to refine my nose and cheeks to look sharp but soft, not too harsh. I don't want to look like a drag queen. IT'S TRICK A BITCH DAY.

I open my MAC concealer and foundation, which were running low, and add the substances to my face thoroughly, using a beauty blender. Foundation first, then concealer under my eyes, in the middle of my eyebrows and around my nose. I blend the makeup evenly before opening a contour stick of a darker shade. Down my cheekbones, over my temples, under my chin, and a light amount on my nose.

Whew, being a girl is complicated!

Lastly, I blend my skin to literal perfection and add eyeliner and red lipstick. My eyebrows are naturally thick and full, so all I use is a trimmer for the wild hairs. I choose a wig from one of my stand displays in my light green bedroom, which, of course, is junky. I pick out an all-black, sleek, long and flowy wig.

Oh fuck, I won't be able to get the stuff I ordered. I frown as I use a pin-headed brush on the wig. Damn...maybe it won't arrive until Monday

I shake away the thought of not being able to enjoy pampering myself and proceed to the bathroom to place on the wig. I use a wig cap and an elastic band that is sowed on the inside for a secure hold. I place the unit on my head, adding powder to the parting.

In my closet, I take out gray boots, a blue sweater, and dark leggings. Before putting on the leggings, I tuck my tiny wee wee, using Trinity Taylor's, balls in, clear duct tape, and push back method. I apply adhesive sponges that resemble breast to a purple bra, which gives the illusion of cleavage to my chest. I slip into a girdle for a girly shape before crawling into the sweater. I have a stomach, so.... squeeze that fat all the way in, hoe. I put my hair in a high knot and make to get my phone...but pause and remind myself that I broke it.

I head to the door, about to leave. But MY dumb ass runs back to get my makeup bag 🤦🏻‍♀️stupid. I take a long look at my small, carpeted, pack-rat apartment. My heart goes weak.

I saved up months, pinched dollar by dollar, living off noodles, crackers, and baloney to afford this place. It may be super untidy, but it is mine...or was mine. I feel tears coming on. All my damn clothes are here...all of my bad hookups. Good sex. My shoe collection, pretty ass dresses too. I give a sweeping, savoring look to the apartment, almost crying. I jerk open the front door angrily and slam it behind me­, boxing away my home.

My feet descend a long stairway to a snowy parking lot. The sky is cloudy; chilly wind blows my hair like crazy, I shiver. I only have one place of refuge, even though I don't want to hear an "I told you so." I wait for the light to cross the street to a bus stop. I need to get away from this ugly ass card guy. How did he even get my number? Was Sam right about me being tracked? The numbers on my wrist were fading, but I know the digits by heart. As I wait for traffic to pass, a nice car turns into my apartment's parking lot; a shiny, blue McLaren P1 Coupe. "Damn..." My eyes glue to it in envy. "Damn..." I say again when I see the driver.

This dude looks like a bodybuilder on steroids, about in his 30's, early or late I couldn't tell. His hair black and cut short, close to a fade, and nicely textured. His beard well-groomed and appears so soft. The hottie spots that I'm staring. I divert my gaze quick. The car slowly pulls into the lot, its driver side window rolls down. My stupid ass stays frozen in place like a deer. I have the light to cross now, but I simply can't move. The driver's gaze makes my lips sizzle.

"Hey, you need to get warm?" he asks provocatively...my penis comes alive, even tucked, it jerks. I check myself out in the car's reflection. I look girly. Good. That gives me enough confidence to engage. I examine his classic face. My eyes carry out a mission of their own, sizing up his bulging muscles. I approach close enough to the car to see his waist, where I spot huge thighs. Hmm, daddy. I try judging how big he could be down there. "You want a taste, baby?" He bites his lip.

I giggle like a schoolgirl and lighten my voice. "I would, but I have a boyfriend and he's a nut case, so...." I lie to provide temptation.

"He doesn't have to know." I examine his face, noticing that his eyes are golden and fierce. He smirks flirtatiously before suddenly becoming serious. "You shouldn't be out looking like this; you'll get raped."

My eyes buck...what...what did he just say?!! I back away from the car. A defensive mode overcomes me. I try to cross the street, but the light is green, and cars zoom by. I can't cross, so I hurry down the sidewalk like a frantic penguin. I feel him watching; my skin flares with a hot throb. I glance back as I speed away, becoming more freaked out by the second. The fancy car is now parked in the lot, and he now exits it. I notice his height, he's tall, about 6'5, or 6'4.

I observe him, slowing my pace.

He's still hot...just a bit off. Who just brings up rape like that???

As I watch him further, my sex drive set its gears from horny to bothered. How he moves is even hot, powerful. My bones go skittish when he nears a complex building. Something is wrong. Where is he going? I watch as the driver heads up the stairs I just came down minutes ago, his destination: to a unit. My face goes numb and prickly when he kicks in my apartment's door.