Free Behind His Lens by R. S. Grey Page A

be disgusted, so we should probably not have ‘the sex’ if that’s okay.”
    I laugh, completely losing myself in the drunken allure of this woman.
    “Alright, Charley, guess I’ll just have to settle for a rain-check then,” I retort, wishing my words weren’t a joke.
    Her smile spreads across her cheeks, highlighting her little dimples , and I lose myself in the innocence of them.
    But the moment washes away when the cabdriver pulls up in front an old townhouse. I pay his fare quickly and then help a clumsy Charley out of the backseat.
    It’s hell trying to get her from the cab to her front door. Once were there, she leans against me as she rifles through her purse for her keys. My neck cranes back to see the view of the two story house. Ivy winds up the brick facade and friendly plant holders dot the outside of each window. Does she live in this place by herself? It’s huge.
    A frustrated sigh breaks through her throat and I glance back down. “Charley, do you want me to get the keys for you?” I ask lightly, not wanting to push her amiable mood.
    Her tongue peeks out of the edge of her mouth as she focuses on finding the keys. I have to fight the urge to just take the damn purse out of her hands.
    “No. No, I can get them,” she slurs. If this was any other girl… no. I do n’t even know what I’d be doing because we wouldn’t be here right now. We’d be at my apartment finishing up so I could call a cab and send her on her way.
    Suddenly a light flicks on in the foyer and the image of a short, gray haired woman appears through the frosted glass.
    “Mrs. Jenkins!” Charley shouts, much too loudly for the middle of the night.
    The door creaks open and the woman I assume to be Mrs. Jenkins eyes me with cold skepticism. If Charley doesn’t drink often, then I’m sure she usually brings guys home in a much more sober state. I don’t know why I care, but I don’t want this woman thinking I’m trying to take advantage of her.
    Old hinges squeak to life as the elderly woman opens the door wider and steps back so that I can help Charley through.
    “Thank you for your help. Charley isn’t feeling well so I wanted to make sure she got home okay,” I offer as Mrs. Jenkins eyes me up and down. She nods slowly and waves her arm for us to follow without a word. She’s wearing a patterned muumuu and well-worn house slippers. Her back slumps over at a sharp angle as though her spine can no longer support the weight of her upper body.
    “Mrs. Jenkins, you don’t have to worry. Jude, here, doesn’t even find me atttractiveee!”
    I snap my gaze to Charley. Even in her drunken slur, her words annoy me. It doesn’t help when Mrs. Jenkins sends me a glare over her shoulder. What? What am I supposed to do? Confess what I really feel for Charley while she stumbles drunkenly through the hallway? I don’t even know where she’s getting that idea from anyway.
    When we arrive outside of a cherry-red door at the end of the hall, I begin to piece together that this is a boarding house of sorts. Mrs. Jenkins uses her set of keys to unlock the faded copper lock and then turns around, keeping her concerned gaze on Charley.
    “Do you want me to come down and check on you in a little bit?” she asks, her warm expression makes it clear that she adores Charley . Suddenly I don’t mind her as much. I’m glad someone will be here to check on her later.
    “No. No. I’ll come over in the morning if you want.”
    “That’d be lovely. Good night, Charley. Feel better.” She offers me a tight-lipped smile as she moves around us and heads up the old wooden staircase in the corner of the foyer.
    “She seems nice,” I note with sincerity as I hold the door open for Charley to enter.
    But Charley doesn’t answer. The moment we’re inside, she runs to the toilet and collapses before it with a heavy groan. I bolt over and lift the lid and seat, brushing her hair away from her face. She isn’t sick right away. She sits