It took a moment for Lex to realise what he’d said, what he was holding, and when her brain finally caught up, her mouth was still miles behind. “Oh! My bag! What – How did you, what happened?”

Otis passed it to her, proud like a dog with the biggest stick in the yard. “I ran that guy down - it took me ages, but I got him on the ground and sat on him. I used your phone to call the police, hope that’s okay, but they said it would be about an hour, so I just chatted with him while we waited. His name is Ethan, a pretty cool guy actually, but he’s fallen in with a bad crowd, and they’ve got him doing stuff he doesn’t really want to be involved with.”

“Spare me,” she muttered under her breath; the guy stole my bag – his motivation isn’t really a big interest of mine. Lex sorted through her bag, checking for the phone, her wallet and credit cards. Not that there was much room on any of them; two were maxed out and the other had a balance of about one hundred dollars available, but still. “So, did the police arrest him?”

He nodded, his face empathetic. “Yeah, but I actually think it was the best thing for him. His mum was on her way to bail him out, and she’s going to send him to live with his dad in Victoria for a while, get him out of the city.”

Lex shook her head, incredulous that Otis could be so concerned about a common thief. “Okay, good then.” Reaching her hand out, she said, “Thank you. This is very much appreciated.”

He shook her fingers, and the instant their skin connected, heat flooded up her arm, electrifying her nerves. Perhaps it was his luminous eyes, or his random act of kindness, or his scruffy appearance, but there was something so foreign and exciting about him, Lex found herself fascinated. Besides the crush she’d developed on her Year 12 maths teacher, she hadn’t felt such girlish butterflies before, a sensation of being tugged out of her own body towards his.

She made up her mind: I want you. And what Lex wanted, she pursued and obtained, from promotions to auctions to conquests. Dropping her weight onto her left hip, she pursed her lips and sent a wave of feminine wiles his way, squeezing his fingers sensuously.

Otis seemed completely unaware. Seeing him up closer, she guessed he was a few years younger than her, but his blitheness and innocence made him all the more appealing. He dropped his hand and said, “Well, it was nice meeting you, Lex-”

“Come in,” she interrupted. Lex realised her invite sounded more like a command, so she tried to soften it by adding, “If you want to. I’d like to thank you properly. Do you want a drink?”

He hesitated, analysing her face to see if she was serious. “Well, okay. I could use a glass of water, if you don’t mind.”

She ushered him inside. “I think I can do better than water. I’m drinking Shiraz, do you want a glass?”

He picked his way into her house, staring around at the elegantly placed vases and landscape paintings. “No, thanks, I don’t drink. Just water.”

She closed the door behind him, and said, “You don’t drink?”

“Nah. Never been able to afford it since I was old enough to drink it, then I just figured I didn’t need to start doing something that’s such a bad habit for so many people. Besides, I’ve never needed to be drunk to have a good time.”

“Right…” Alcohol was about her only indulgence, the one way she could actually relax. Brushing the topic aside, she said, “Water it is.”

In the seldom used kitchen, Lex pulled down a glass, then opened her refrigerator, looking for the Waterford crystal water pitcher.

Otis grinned at her, his cheeks lifting upwards adorably. “So, waiting for pay day, hey?”

“What?” Any mention of pay or cash and her hackles immediately rose. Her income was high, but so were her expenses, and often she struggled to scrape through until the end of each month.

But I never let it show. Lex had big plans to be wealthy one day soon, and she knew in order to get there, she had to project an appearance of wealth; the right postcode, the right clothing, the right hairstyle, the right car. No one would ever be able to guess that there were angry overdue notices cluttering her mailbox, when she wore $2000 jackets and lunched at the most exclusive restaurants in Sydney.

Yet in less than 30 seconds inside her home, Otis had already called her out. Lex reacted defensively. “What are you talking about? How- Why do you think I need to get paid?”

His ivy eyes widened in puzzlement. “I just meant, your fridge is empty. I was kidding.”

“Oh.” Looking back to the open door, she took stock of her vacant shelves and expired dairy products. “I don’t eat at home much.”

“Right. That’s cool, I eat out a lot too, you know, Maccas, Hungry Jacks…”

It grew awkward in the kitchen, the silence stretching between them like sagging elastic. Otis accepted the water glass and gulped it hastily, while Lex tried and failed to stop herself ogling his strong neck and the hypnotising way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Pretty quiet here,” he remarked, placing the empty glass on the bench top.

“Well, I live alone.”

“No housemates? That must be awesome! I was living with these two guys up until last week, and there was always some new hassle, and no one ever did dishes and the bathroom was about ten kinds of disgusting. I swear, there was a wash cloth in the corner of the shower that was so mouldy, it had grown legs and was moving on its own at night.”

His voice rose in excitement as he painted the picture of his bachelor life, and Lex realised the gap between them was wider than she’d thought. Otis was young, focused on the now, broke and apparently happy that way. She was future-driven, older than her years, balancing between horrendous debt and generous pay. She wasn’t going to change who she was, and he had years left before he thought about getting a real job and growing up.

And yet… I still want him. Despite the logic, Lex felt the pull in her lower belly, her needy, tactile body calling to his. Unwilling to let him go just yet, she said, “Well, my fridge is empty, but we can order some food, if you like?”

Lex saw him waver, and realised the source of his hesitation. She might not have cared about people, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t perceptive. “My shout, of course. The least I can do for the man who single-handedly ran down my bag and returned it to my door.”

He smiled, and it felt like sunshine on her face as he said, “That would be awesome! I know a great Indian place around the corner.”

Within fifteen minutes, Otis had made himself at home in her terrace house; he commandeered her laptop and placed an online order for delivery, then began hunting through the cupboards for plates and cutlery, chatting in his animated way about how clean her house was.

Slightly dazed, Lex sank into a bar stool beside the bench, and watched him, unsure of how this had unfolded. Sure, she’d asked him to stay, but the only thing on her mind had been somehow dragging him upstairs and into her bed. Playing house wasn’t in the picture.

And yet, there they were. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang, and she made to stand. Otis leapt up, gallant. “Sit, my lady. I’ll get it.”

It was odd how the smallest act could sometimes seem so wonderful. “Thank you.”

Lex heard his enthusiastic conversation with the delivery guy, then he returned bearing two plastic bags filled with food. “Grub’s up!”

Conversation dwindled as they ate; not from a lack of topics, but because her unexpected guest barely drew a breath as he devoured four full plates of Indian fare. Lex picked at a Vindaloo and watched him, fascinated. “Enjoying that?” she asked as he chased the last of the mixed sauce around his plate with a sliver of naan.

“Awesome,” he said, the word muffled through his full mouth. He swallowed and spoke earnestly. “I hope you got enough – sorry, it’s sometimes a long time between decent feeds for me, and I tend to go into a food trance.”

He mimed being a zombie, but she was stuck on his last statement. “Wait, you’re not eating well? Or you’re not eating at all?”

“A bit of both.” He began to gather the plates up, his long defined arms clearing the clutter away. “When I was living with the other guys, we all pitched in for food when we could, but sometimes there just wasn’t enough. And now they’ve kicked me out…” He shrugged good-naturedly. “Well, I’m just trying to scrape together enough for rent somewhere new, and that doesn’t leave much left over for dinnerables.”

“You got kicked out? Where are you staying then?”

“Oh… Here and there, you know…” He trailed off, embarrassed, and continued to stack her sliding drawer dishwasher.

“You’re homeless.” She said it as a statement, and he nodded.

“For now. It’s okay, though, I just need to get my guitar back and I can earn enough to get back up on my feet in a few days.”

It was on the tip of her tongue; I have your guitar. But before she could answer, Otis asked, “Hey, Lex… Can I take you out on a date sometime?”

Again, he’d thrown her off balance; she’d been about to ask him if she could take him - full stop. “What? Why?”

He drew closer, his body heat radiating towards her. “Because, I think you’re a beautiful, intelligent woman, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

I’d like to get to know you Biblically, screamed her rampaging hormones, blazing at his nearness. She swallowed thickly and tried to regain the upper hand. “I don’t date.”

“How come?” He leaned on the counter, angling his chest towards her.

“Because, dating is time consuming, and I don’t have time to waste playing games.” Lex boldly reached out and allowed her fingers to trail down the front of his shirt. “But right now, I do have time to strip you naked and shag you senseless.”

His face turned a bright red under his tanned skin. “Uh… Yeah, I’m not- that’s not my thing.”

“I’m sorry?” Her voice had turned hard, her hand frozen halfway between his belt and his belly.

“I don’t sleep around.” Otis’ voice was firm and he stepped backwards slightly.

Lex couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But… you’re a musician!”

“Just because I’m a muso, it doesn’t mean I sleep around. I want to get to know any woman who shares herself with me.”

“Well, I’m not looking for a relationship,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest to hide her hardened nipples. “But sex is on the table.”

“No. Thank you.”

They stood, both refusing to give an inch. If it had been any other man, she would have accused him of being gay and kicked him out immediately.

But suddenly, Lex felt like a spoiled little girl; she couldn’t have him, and she wanted him more. I will get you into my bed, starving artist…

“So, I should probably get moving…” Otis shifted his weight towards the door. “Hey, I meant to ask, do you know what happened to my guitar? I dropped by the coffee shop on the way here, but that guy wasn’t there, and no one knew anything about it.”

If Lex knew anything, it was supply and demand. Her job was all about seeing a need and being able to fill it at a premium cost. In that moment, in her kitchen, she saw a way to fill a need, her need – as long as Otis had a need she could fulfil in return.

If he didn’t have a way to immediately make cash, his prospects were limited, and suddenly the woman with the warm bed would seem like a much better options than his stupid rules about not shagging on the first date. Then, in the morning, she’d tell him his guitar was at her office, he’d potter off and everyone would be happy.

She looked him straight in his glorious green eyes and said, “I meant to tell you - your guitar is gone. I looked back when you ran after that guy, and it had disappeared. I guess someone took off with it when we were looking the other way.”

“Ah, dammit…” His shoulders slumped, his light dimming. “Even the case? My coat…”

What had started out as a small fib to trap him into staying the night already felt like a vile betrayal. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Great. Just great.” For the first time since she’d meet him, his energy diminished, and a pulse of guilt pushed around her temple for causing it. Otis looked up at the ceiling and said softly, “Well, thanks for dinner. See you.”

He walked towards the front door, clad in only his thin shirt, headed for a night on the street or a bus shelter. This wasn’t how this was meant to go!

“Otis, wait!” Lex raced after him and caught his arm just before he walked out the wrought iron gate. The chilly night air traced icy goose bumps up her bare arms as she said, “Stay here, with me. It’s my fault your guitar is gone; I should make it up to you…”

He looked down at her fingers, which were drawing sexy circles on his inner elbow, and he shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Lex. I’ve already told you, I don’t have sex with people I’ve just met, and I don’t want to give you the wrong idea by staying.”

“Oh my God!” she said, dropping her hand and clenching it in frustration. “Stop being so freaking noble! Who are you, anyway? Rescuing bags and defending my sacred honour. Look, you’re homeless, for God’s sake! I’m offering you a place to stay - what’s the big deal?”

She saw him waver, and in that moment, Lex caught a glimpse of his internal battle; he didn’t want to sleep on the streets, but for whatever deluded reason, he was holding firm to his moral high ground. “That’s really nice of you, but-”

“I have a spare room.” She wasn’t sure if it was guilt over the situation that caused her to relent, or if she was simply adjusting her plan to a longer timeline, but she said, “It’s empty and it’s yours if you want it. I’ve been thinking about getting a housemate for a while now, so if you can help out with cleaning and cooking, you’re welcome to it for as long as you want.”

“Really?”

The hope in his voice almost broke her, and it was such a strange emotional response from Lex, the self-proclaimed ice queen. “Really. Please, Otis, come inside.”

She rarely used the word please unless she was being sarcastic, and perhaps the depth in her tone was the final push. Otis nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Okay.”

It was late and they were both tired from their long days. Silently, Lex led him upstairs to the small room across from hers, and together, they made the bed up with a spare set of buttery Egyptian cotton sheets.

“There’s a bathroom downstairs you can use,” she said, standing awkwardly by his door.

He bowed his shaggy head towards her. “Thank you. This is… It’s more than I expected.”

His genuine gratitude made her uncomfortable. If you’re so thankful, have sex with me already!

But in her heart, she knew that ship had sailed, for tonight at least. “You’re welcome. Good night, Otis.”

“’Night, Lexi.”

She left him and crossed the hall, leaving her door open a crack, just in case. As she pulled on her cutest set of Peter Alexander PJ’s, with the tiger-print tights and cropped top, she realised she was feeling something strange; comfort? Calm? Yes, Lex was frustrated by the unscratched itch under her skin, and she’d been thwarted by almost everything all day, but laying under her covers with the knowledge that Otis was only a wall away, she fell asleep with a goofy grin alighting her face.

A vote for your thoughts? Is Lex a horrible person? Or is she just truly pramatic?