Gia and I act like we aren’t roomies, which is fucking fantastic. She treats me like I’m her boss, and I treat her like I always treated her—I scold her for sending the wrong flowers to my ma. When she isn’t shooting me hate glares, I check out her ass, gawk at her tits, and fantasize about laying her over my desk, feasting on her pussy.

How long is she going to keep up this charade that she doesn’t want me?

Good thing she didn’t choose acting as a career because she would suck at that job too.

At seven, I let her go while I finish signing off on some of the new policies that will be enforced in the next four months. Nine o’clock creeps up on me, so I lock up my office and head to my apartment.

The only women I’ve ever lived with were my ma and sister, so I don’t know what to expect from Gia. To say that I’m nervous is an understatement. I’m sweating my balls off.

When I unlock the door, the smell of garlic and butter hits my nostrils. I haven’t used my kitchen since I bought this place five years ago, even though my ma keeps my fridge and freezer well-stocked. I’m not much of a cook. The only time I cook is when I visit my ma and she makes me help her out in the kitchen. Takeout from Thai and Chinese restaurants are my best friends on lonely nights. I don’t live like most of my rich friends where they have hired help to wait on them hand and foot or wipe their asses. I was taught to clean up after my own self, so Gia better do the same.

I stroll through the living room to get to the kitchen. I set my keys and wallet on the granite counter. Gia bends over with her hands on her knees, facing the stove. She’s no longer wearing the brown dress she wore earlier for work, but hot pink shorts and rainbow knee-high socks.

I can see the outline of her panties, and my dick is raging hard, ready to explode.

Fuck me. My life would be so easy if she looked like the green witch from the Wizard of Oz. That way I wouldn’t think about fucking her every five minutes.

I adjust my dick, clear my throat, and she spins around. The yellow tank top clings to her torso, and I can see the outline of her polka-dotted bra. She looks like a fucking rainbow, reminding me of the song She’s a Rainbow by The Rolling Stones. How can she fit so many colors in one outfit? It’s beyond me.