I got up, excited for some action, and put my ear to the door. “Shut the fuck up!” a male voice yelled from his room. The trumpet grew louder, as ...f the person playing it just walked passed my door. “I swear, if I have to come out, there’ll be hell to pay!” I held my breath hoping for some excitement: Like the man to come out and maybe start a fight with Miles Davis. Anything. Any relief from this crushing boredom would do. He didn’t though, and he was smart not to. No one was allowed outside. Nonetheless, I liked it. There was no other way to describe it. I had forgotten how good it felt to be totally objectified by a stranger.I did not move my body, except to turn my face to the right towards his. I closed my eyes and puckered my lips.“You like this, doncha?” The biker whispered swiftly in my ear.Goose bumps formed all over my arms and torso. I could only reply “Yes”, although it probably sounded more like a lustful hiss than a word.At that instant, biker boy miraculously. More

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