Gemotions

The doorbell’s shrill ring cut through the quiet of the night. He glanced at the stereo, the volume a little too high, maybe. He wasn’t dressed, just a pair of loose boxers. His chest tightened, a strange anticipation blooming. It was Mrs. Petrov, a woman who always wore a tight, fitted dress.

He tugged his shirt on, but left the top buttons undone. He opened the door, a slow, deliberate movement. Her face was flushed, her lips parted slightly.

"The...the bass," she began, her voice a little shaky, her eyes darting to his chest. He stood his ground, the cool air hitting his bare skin, making him shiver. A different sort of shiver.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice a low drawl. He watched the way her gaze lingered, the small movements in her face. The pressure grew. “I’ll turn it down.” He smiled.