LANA
I pushed the key into the lock, struggling with the last box of my life shoved between my knee and the doorframe. The landlord said she was an older lady, lived alone, quiet. So perfect. I needed peace, not another person who chewed loudly and asked questions about my love life.
The door creaked open and I stepped in.
I immediately regretted everything.
Because the first thing I saw wasn’t furniture. Or a kindly old woman offering cookies. No, no.
It was a guy lying back on the couch with one hand wrapped around his cock
And the absolute audacity of this man to be moaning-moaning—like he didn’t just hear the door open.
He kept going until he opened his eyes and met mine.
There was a beat of silence. Two. Then he blinked, like I was the hallucination, not the half-naked man jer
