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The “Sunset Hills” apartments were considered one of the best places for guests to stay — not without reason. Even an empty hallway here looked like a piece of minimalist architecture. Narrow and long, it disappeared somewhere in the distance, in the half-dark of golden lighting. Soft panels on the walls muffled any sound, as if the building itself didn’t want to disturb the peace of its residents. Everything here was perfect and of course expensive, but what else do you expect. You always have to pay for comfort.
But this silence, glowing with gold, was still from time to time broken either by the voices of guests, or by the noise of a cleaning vacuum, or, like now, by the rhythm of footsteps coming from the entrance that led to the dining area. Heavy and confident steps practically shouted that they belonged to a man — big and strong, one of those who walk like the space itself steps aside. The rhythm of his soles echoed through the hallway with a deep, booming sound, as if someone had appeared in this perfectly balanced place who didn’t fit into the silence.
However, in the background, though barely noticeable, you could also hear a light trace of other footsteps — they were soft, but very careful, as if afraid to disturb the harmony of this flawless space. They followed behind, slightly uneven in rhythm, which gave them a tone of uncertainty, shyness… or, possibly, a habit of yielding.
At the same time, from the other end of the hallway, another set of steps sounded. The same confident, massive stride, as if that self-assured male had somehow teleported to another part of the building and started walking straight toward himself. The same heavy, precise rhythm — like a reflection of the first in a mirror, only with a barely noticeable difference in tempo, as if the steps belonged not to a copy, but to another version of the same man. And behind that stride, just the same, quieter heel-clicks followed. Only these were much sharper, louder, and not fitting into any attempt to match a steady rhythm.
— Jax, baby, what the hell are you so damn stubborn for! — a slightly husky, yet still naturally erotic female voice stretched from that side, and Lena appeared from around the corner — a petite blonde in short shorts and a white top, far too provocative for this flawless place. Her steps echoed with a sharp clicking, as if every note of her walk was purposely meant to irritate, and she kept spinning around her man again and again.
He walked beside her and was a real brute — huge, bald, in a perfectly white T-shirt and jeans, with that same heavy, precise rhythm that had already sounded from the other side of the hallway. His face was calm, but behind that calm you could feel some unnatural emptiness...Full story (16 500 characters - 6 parts) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon