More Than You Know

I watched the speedometer on my white Toyota Camry climb and fall steadily as I searched the row of look-alike-unsold houses to sell to find the one that I was showing. I William Eugene Beckett am a real estate agent. Do I hate it? Yes, but every once in a while I get some clients that I get to know very “personally”.

I pulled up to the house that I was to show, and stepped onto the cracked driveway. It’s a charming two story house with a pool, and a bay window. The paint is fresh and the previous owners kept it in perfect condition so it needed no repairs.

The couple I was showing was a group of strictly religious parents and their nineteen year old closeted son. When I met him, he followed me around and got my phone number off of the stiff business card his parents stuck to the fridge with a magnet picture of their small dog.

He’s a handsome kid with shoulder length black hair and a black metal lip ring. His preferred wardrobe reveals slightly faint body shapes and stubby legs, next to my long graceful ones. All in all, he’s an okay looking kid. Definitely not screwable though.

We went through the house slowly as the kid’s eyes drank my figure in like I was his last glass of water before he died. He never took his eyes off of me, not even when his parents asked his opinion about the house, in which case, he nodded blankly. One incident in which I had to bite my lip to hide laughter was when he agreed that the bathroom closet would be a perfect candidate for his bedroom.

At one point in the tour, he attempted to grab my hand, but I pulled away and frowned deeply in his direction. There is no way I want to lose my job over this boy. He’s not worth it.

No one has been worth it yet. They are all one night stands who lose interest the next day, if I haven’t left in the middle of the night.

I rushed the rest of the tour by faking an emergency phone call as an excuse to go home. I told them my cat was in the emergency operating room from getting stuck under the recliner in my living room and the operation was an attempt to straighten Mr. Meowsky’s tail out.

I don’t even have a cat.

After I got home I deleted all my unread text messages from the unattractive, religiously sheltered teen and sat on the couch to stare at the wall.

I must have dosed off, because as soon as I sat down, my cell phone started ringing loudly.

“William Beckett.” I answered groggily, attempting to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

“Hi William, my name is Michael Chislett, I just moved here from Australia and some friends of mine told me you could help me find a place to live. I was wondering when you would be available to show me around.” A husky voice, laced with a very delicious sounding accent asked from the other end of the phone.

I jumped over my low coffee table and grabbed my planner book off the entertainment center to flip through my appointments.

Ten o clock tomorrow.

“I can do it tomorrow around ten, you could meet me at my place and we’ll go look at some houses around the area and see if we cant find something you like okay?” I asked trying to keep my composure towards the voice on the other side of the phone.

“Ten o clock sounds fine. I’ll see you then. Have a goodnight.”

I gave him my address and put the phone down to examine my shaking hands.

That voice was just. Wow. I can only imagine the body that voice comes with.

I growled as the kid from earlier began blowing up my phone again.

At least I can look forward to tomorrow.