Wanting You, Loving You

Chapter I

You are so beautiful... and nobody here respects your beauty like I do. You promote your new movie on the morning show while I have my coffee in the cafeteria. It's the first time I've seen you and it's through a television set at work. The way you speak and the passion you convey makes me more and more attracted to you. Your name is Ava Monroe and I love the way it rolls on my tongue. Nice to meet you, my name is Nathan Holloway. I didn't know you until I saw you for the first time five minutes ago in front of the television while you talk about the film you star to the interviewer who pretends to be interested. But I'm interested in everything you say.

Your curves make me hard. If you knew me, you'd know I'm showing you respect. If it's up to me one day you'll get to know me and be able to feel everything I have to give. I don't usually watch movies, but you can be sure I will see this one. I hope it's good but I know it's not up to you, you just act and don't do miracles. I don't care, if it's bad, for me it will be worth seeing you on the big screen. I'll go see all the movies you've been in, even the ones you've only been in for five minutes at the beginning of your career, like Brad Pitt in Thelma & Louise. Fortunately, IMDB exists and will make my life easier. And if you are naked in one of the movies that would be fantastic, so I can stop imagining your body and fantasize about all the details of your curves and wonderful breasts. With or without clothes, looking at you will always be a pleasure. I can't wait to see you at...

"Nathan!" says the asshole who coordinates the cleaning at the Filiost building, a well-known appliance company here in Virginia, but you don't need to know these things. "When you want to stop staring dumbly at the TV, you can start by cleaning the meeting room on the 6th floor, which they will be using in half an hour."

Yes, I clean rooms and hallways, Ava. I'm not proud of it, but it's the best I can get. Not everyone is born with talent like you or has the money to go to university like a lot of people who work in this building. This will all be behind us when we are together and happy. I promise you.

"I'll be right there, Mr. Curtis." Fuck you! Not you, but Mr. Curtis can go to hell and not come back. I'm not an animal and I value my job, so I don't stupidly insult him. But the urge to punch him and spit in his face is so big. I breathe calmly and think of you and everything becomes instantly better.

I go to that meeting room on the 6th floor, and all the time I think about you. I imagine a future with us together, happy and above all in love. Without Mr. Curtis, messing with my head and not having to clean this fucking disgusting building. I have to be patient, although the anxiety of wanting to touch you, hold you, hug and kiss you increases with each passing second. I can't wait to get out of here and look at you again.

It's five in the afternoon and I run out of this building so I can see you. I want to get to know you better, I need to get to know you better. I take the subway, and I count the seconds to be able to look at you. I arrive at my humble apartment running, even a neighbor got scared when I ran up the stairs. She wouldn't understand how I feel about you, but that's okay, what matters is you and me. Nobody else. I'll make sure no one comes between us. I enter my apartment. It's small. A small kitchen connected to the living room area, where I usually watch TV and read. My and only bedroom in this apartment has a bed, a wardrobe and a bedside table. And finally a bathroom with sink, toilet and shower. It's my little space where I live, now you're used to big mansions and various luxuries, but I'm sure you'd enjoy living here with me together. You would forget about all the luxury and money you have because you only need me.

I turn on my laptop and make coffee, I need energy for the next few hours. As the coffee cools down, I start checking your social media. I start with your Instagram. One hundred and three million people follow you. They are fans of your work and probably some creeps mixed in. None of your millions of followers love you as much as I do. I can guarantee you.