Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) by Lena Bourne

are crawling all over me, biting. I even try to jerk off so I could finally relax enough to sleep, but I keep seeing Gail, her face, her milky white skin, her long brown hair covering her full breasts, the hard nipples poking out. My hands are burning with the need to touch her right now, and I can almost feel her straddling me. No, I can't go there. It's bad enough I have those wet dreams about her almost every night. They’re probably the only reason I haven't needed the emergency room for the blue balls problem, because I positively cannot let myself jerk off thinking about Gail. Else I’ll go insane with the need to be with her.   But I can't do it without thinking of her. I’m such a mess.
    So I'm back to square one, staring at the TV screen and some dumb crime documentary, which is all I watch these days. Maybe it’s some subconscious attempt to figure out what to do about Mike, even though I'm pretty sure nothing can be done. Either I go along, or Gail dies. Or I die. Or go to jail. If only I could get to sleep, then at least I'd be able to see Gail.  
    My phone ringing wakes me sometime on Saturday afternoon, and of course my first thought is that it's Gail. Followed almost immediately by sickening disappointment when it's actually Mike.  
    "You staying in tonight?" he asks.  
    "I was gonna, yeah," I mutter.  
    "OK, well, just thought I'd ask," he says and hangs up. I don't know if I'll ever get used to these weird ass calls of his, but they’re starting to seem more commonplace now.  
    After a quick shower it's almost dark outside again, and I debate with to order take out or actually go out. In the end I settle for a couple of those noodle soups since I can't be bothered with anything else. I'm still tired like I haven't slept at all.
    The intercom buzzes at a little past nine. "There's a lady here to see you," the doorman informs me. I'm just opening and closing my mouth. It can't be Gail. Although she did track me down in Alaska. But there's no way she could know where I am now. This apartment isn’t in my name, and no one but Mike knows where I live.
    "Sir?" the doorman asks. "Should I send her up?"
    "Yes," I manage, and open the front door, staring at the elevators.
    It takes forever, but the left one finally chimes, and a tall brunette gets out. And she could be Gail. Her hair's the same color, her legs are long enough, her breasts full and round. But the face is all wrong. She smiles as she approaches, her hips swaying.
    "Who are you?" I ask.
    She smiles wider and brushes against me as she enters the apartment.  
    "I'm Amber," she purrs into my ear. "But you can call me anything you like."
    What the fuck's that supposed to mean?
    I take a step back and keep the door open. "What are you doing here?"
    She's wearing one of those charm bracelets the escorts Mike likes wear. It looks like the one Gail lost by the pool that first time we met. My stomach clenches at the memory. I want this fake Gail gone.  
    "I'm here so we can have a good time," Amber purrs again and steps closer, trying to force my hand off the doorknob.  
    "I never asked for you," I say.
    "I'm supposed to tell you Mike sent me," she says. "And that you can call me Gail, if you want."
    "Motherfucker!" I yell. She shakes a little, taking a full step back from me.
    "I think you should go," I add.
    She regains her composure, and slides her hand across my bare arm slowly. "Are you sure? Don't you like me?"
    There's something so sincere in her question that my anger at Mike ebbs away a little.
    "I suppose you won't get paid if I send you away, right?"
    She looks at me with serious eyes, all the seduction gone. "No, I won't. I might even get fired. This is only my second job and I didn’t do that well on the first one."
    It could just be a line and there's no way we're having sex, but I close the door. It's probably better if Mike thinks his little ploy succeeded anyway.
    "Want a drink?"
    She nods and follows me to the kitchen, her heels