He Calls a Mansion, Not a House, but a Tomb

I unlocked my front door, switching on the corridor light next to me, bothering my eyes for a moment until they adjusted. I shrugged off my jacket and hung it onto a coat rack near my shoe mat where I then placed my shoes.
I stretched silently, taking a deep, relaxing breath. I wandered into my living room, draping myself across my couch until I noticed the red flashing light of my answering machine across the room.
I stretched my back and arm as far as I could, begging myself to stay on the couch. I was too lazy for my own good sometimes. I sighed, giving up this impossible task and sluggishly stood up and walked towards the answering machine.
"Frank, hey, hon, how are you doing? It's Abby. I'll be in town next week and I just wanted to know if you'd want to get together. Call me, 'kay?" A woman's voice spoke cheerfully after I pressed the blinking button. The woman was my friend, Abigail. 'Abby', for short.
I had met her on the set of a movie based on one of my novels. She had been cast as the leading role. We became best friends after we met. Nothing more, because she'd been a huge fan and already knew I was homosexual.
I dropped myself down onto the couch again, stretching out comfortably, closing my eyes, readying myself to hear the next message.
"Hey, baby, how are you tonight? I know you've been a bit lonely and I just want to let you know you have a free invitation to sleep over--" I stopped the message as soon as I could reach the machine again. I groaned and sat on the floor next to the end table that held my stupid machine. I sighed and dropped to my back.
I hate when he calls.

"Fraaankieee." I groaned, squeezing my eyelids tighter, rolling onto my side.
Leave me alone, leave me alone... I repeated in my mind over and over again.
"I know you're in here, Fraankieee..." The voice became louder and clearer. I flinched as the lights turned off around me. The bedsheets shook as someone slid into the bed beside me. I whimpered, wrapping my arms around my head, as if that somehow if I squeezed hard enough, I might disappear.
Cold fingers tickled my skin in an eerie manner, leaving goosebumps in their trail as they made their way around my waist. I shivered as the entire hand came flat across my naval, pulling me towards its source.
I whimpered again, nearly crying even though I knew the worse wasn't over yet. I bit my lip, even though I knew he would think that's how I like it.
"I'll make you feel better, baby..." He whispered, leaving soft yet creeping kisses on the crook of my neck. A small squeak whistled through my throat. I found myself unable to speak.
And I stayed that way until it was over. Until he was done. And he somehow felt welcome to sleep in the same bed, cuddling into my chest afterwards. Not even noticing my frozen body, my sickened face, tears about to burst through my shut eyelids.

"Frankie." My eyes snapped open. I looked up to see Richard standing above me. I sighed with relief, wiping my damp forehead on my sleeve. "Sleeping on the floor again, boy?" He asked, kneeling down next to me. I chuckled, smiling weakly.
Richard is my literary agent. He's also a friend.
I looked at him shyly, watching as he picked up stray papers that lay on the wooden floors. I watched as his blue eyes gave off a small twinkle, reflecting off of the corridor light which made my shadow from behind me. His light brown hair was neatly combed, with a few strands falling into his eyes following the rules of gravity.
He looked up to me, handing me the stack of papers he had collected. I smiled briefly before taking them from his hands.
"No wide smile? What-- Oh..." He trailed off, knowingly.
I sighed, "I hate when he calls." I said, running my fingers through my sweaty hair. My mouth twisted to the side in disappointment, looking down at the floor I sat on. I'd need to shower and mop this part of the floor later on.
"So... How was your day?" He asked, sitting on the couch, making himself at home as usual. I smiled, sitting across from him in my armchair.
"It's was okay. The usual, for the most part. French class at the New School was canceled today so it gave me more time to research." I explained, leaving out the part of my evening when I hadmet saw the man from the bus. Hopefully Richard wouldn't ask any follow-up questions.
"Anything exciting?" Shit.
I'd always been horrible at lying. I never knew why. I had always gotten caught when I ever even tried to lie about something. I would always start out cool and collected and then I would lose my confidence, get nervous and just break down until I told the truth.
"I--No--No, not really. It was pretty boring today." I said the smoothest thing that could come out of my mouth.
Richard shrugged and nodded. I mentally screamed in delight, happy about my first victory ever.
"So, really, what happened today?" Richard asked.
My delight jumped off a cliff.
"Nothing." I said, nonchalantly.
"Okay, fine. I'm just here to pick up the updates on the next manuscript." Richard explained, standing up. I nodded and scurried out to the kitchen.
I assumed it was around ten 'o' clock at night as I turned on the light, looking at the dark window on the East wall of the kitchen. My eyes set on the kitchen table and searched for the small stack--if it can even be called a stack-- of 3 sheets of paper. I smiled and picked up the papers.
I traced my fingers over my pencil marks of notes I had made all over the typed up writing already on the paper in ink.
Despite the trouble I had been having writing good material lately, I have been able to write a few pages as a prolonged prologue for my next novel.
It's in the 3rd person. The plot is still developing and I still haven't stood strong on any of the names I had chosen for the characters. It's basically about a woman who had had a boring life, in her opinion. And only after she had forced herself to befriend the strangest group of people, her life had struck up an interest with all her past lovers. They seem more interested in her life, her body and more importantly, her recent luck with money.
I frowned to myself. It actually sounded pretty ridiculous after thinking it over to myself. Maybe I should ask for another week to work on the update.
"Frank, did you find it?" I turned to see Richard behind me in the doorway. I nodded shyly.
"Could I maybe get one more week to work on this?" I asked, looking down at the paper in my hands.
"Sorry, I can only give you just two days. The agency wants it in really soon." Richard frowned. I nodded.
"Thanks. I'll give it to you on Tuesday." I said, counting the days in my head.
"Thursday." He corrected me.
"Really?" I had lost track of the date, I guess.
"Yeah. I'll see you Thursday." He said, giving me a short hug, patting my back. I smiled and hugged his back, needing the support. "Do you want me to stay for a little while? I can make you something to eat." He said. I shook my head.
"No, thanks anyway. I'm just going to go to sleep." I said, setting my manuscript on the table again.
"Alright, bye." Richard said, heading back through the hall. I took a deep breath, crossing my arms, rubbing my cold forearms with my hands. I turned to look at the fridge for a second. I shook my head, ridding the thought of food from my mind and walked off to my bedroom.