I anxiously looked around the apartment trying to avert my eyes from the clock mocking me with its 'ticking' sound. I knew it was past 7:30pm, and I sat awaiting the stranger in my secret space. Maybe he figured I was joking? Maybe he was joking and is currently laughing at me with his mates. Making crude remarks about the amount of cellulite that can be found on my thighs. I smoothed my pants. Subconsciously knowing I choose pants to hide said thighs from the strange apartment sitter.

Urgh, this was not how I had envisioned my Saturday night, and by the looks of things I should calm my nerves and disassociate myself from having a visitor just for tonight. I was clueless as to which apartment he was supposed to have been 'sitting'.

The knock on the door, me peeping through my peep-hole happened in sync. I pulled away and started counting mentally. Breathing a sigh of relief, I saw it was 10 minutes away from the time allotted. I thought hours had passed. How 10 minutes seemed like more I mused and calmly opened my door to welcome in my sexy stranger.

"Welcome to the building siren's abode once again"

"Thank you for having me"

We smiled at each other and the anxiety could be felt, let alone snipped by the scissors I knew that was looming in my kitchen draw.

He dipped his head and briefly grazed his lips on my, once again my face flushed. Thank goodness it was not easily seen. He also came bearing gifts including his flip-flop feet. I secretly became quite inquisitive about his flip-flop usage but refused to ask any questions and fought the curiosity off with a big stick. His flip-flops weren't a shock to me. They were gratifying to my eyes. If he can take care of his feet, just imagine what he will do to a woman. My writers mind concocted delicious scenes of him caring for, not just any woman, but me.

I did cook up a storm trying to impress him with my culinary skills but totally forgot to ask about his eating habits as he was and is a boxer. It was too late but I still asked what his diet should entail. Making a mental note of whatever special dietary needs he may have. He explained it was 'off-season' and he could indulge a little until further notice. I was glad as I had enough to feed the whole building and still a few neighboring buildings in the area.

We settled on my couch, indulging with wine and conversation before I served the main course. Our chatter skimmed everyday topics as we both refused to acknowledge the tension that had been built by the exchange of sms earlier.

I did notice, however, that he tried to touch me anywhere he can without being very blatant.He would touch my hand or brush his leg against my chunky ones. I encouraged every pilfered contact. Even created opportunities for his hand to brush against mine at different intervals.

After our dinner I invited him, once again, to the couch that could only accommodate two people. We settled with ice-cream and cake as our dessert.

He looked at me and ask who had taught me how to cook.

"My aunt did and the rest have been trial and error. Mostly error". We both laughed at my confession and all laugh came to a complete halt when he answered with, "Its refreshing to meet a woman who can handle herself in the kitchen and also enjoy her creations".

I froze, feeling the ice-cream melting on my spoon and in my tummy.

"Why is it the building siren does not have a line of suitors?"

It's like he was taking his speech from Shakespeare's book, if Shakespeare wrote in these modern times.

I shrugged as a reply to his inquisition. "There is a line, just you have to squint and tilt your head a special way to see it". Taking comfort in my sarcastic replies. It's the way I protected myself from men and the world.

"Hmmmm, maybe I should become a part of that line. What number would I have?", he continued his prying.

"Today is your lucky day. You can choose whatever number you want. No one would mind if I take away their number"

"Can I get all the numbers? In case I mess up in the beginning, I'll have some more chances", and I see white teeth sparkling in the dimness of the light.

My tongue got caught again. Stuck to the roof of my mouth as I was rendered speechless and without a smart come-back. Not an everyday occurrence. Not one I was happy about. I prided myself as the goddess of comebacks. My walls of protection became higher, as I projected every negativity toward a certain well pedicured boxer.

We looked at each other and I wanted to ask straight out "Why?", I know I'm not the typical girl, with a typical size, and a typical body. I was not fully sure that this man actually found my curves desirable. I seriously wanted to find out why he wanted more chances, but those were just my thoughts. I never voiced them. My anxiety held on like a baby duckling from its mother's teat.

Again I shrugged my shoulders, ignoring the comment, and offered to take his bowl to the kitchen sink. He was not ready to give up his bowl just yet and refused my gesture. I stalked to the kitchen becoming a bit angry with myself for not having a reply and also for thinking that he was just interested in the DoubleD cups that were 'au naturale'. Lol. My french came out now. Why does my mind think so low about itself and I unconsciously washed a few dishes before realising what I was doing.

I turn to walk out the kitchen and was startled as I saw my stranger watching me in amusement.

"Thank you for such a hearty and sumptuous meal".

"You are most welcome". I answered, leaning on the sink a little.

"I must say, I do love to watch a woman in the kitchen, even if they are washing dishes and getting suds all over them"

"Well then that explains why you are single sir for those are not qualities usually found in the women of today"

I see the amusement and another expression flit across his face. Was that hurt? Did I wound him with my haute remarks?

His eyes twinkled as he said, "Touche" and it's as if he mirrors my love for different languages.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to upset you".

"No worries, you are correct as that was indeed a small issue with my recent ex".

'Where did this well mannered guy resurrect from?' I wondered as I peered at him as I would a puzzle. Trying to fit the different pieces together, and coming up with an extra one, and no place to put it.

"What made you get into boxing?" Not a conversation one should have in a kitchen, but we were both here and there weren't any 'topic protocols' we should follow, so I delved and questioned.

"I always got myself into some kind of trouble which usually included fighting, so I figured I would train to become better at fighting. I knew I had the raw talent once I started. The rest is history, as they say."

"Always nice when you find your niche," I say and turn to take a step towards to living room. Hoping he followed. Before I could step away he slithered closer to me, raised a hand and brushed my face ever so gently then placed a chaste kiss at the corner of my mouth.

My legs turned to jello in that silent moment and I had a barrage of thoughts juggling in my head. The winning thought was, 'how sweet that felt' and I smiled accepting his gesture.

"You are beautiful," I heard him say through a raspy voice.

"The extra fat does add more sexy, I know," I heard myself say, knowing full well that this was my coping mechanism being brought to his attention.

"No, You are beautiful," he added and stepped closer to hug me.

In my mind I was just placed into 'the friend' zone and accepted his platonic hug unaware of his eyes glazing with more than just a platonic stare.

Luc was using all of his willpower not to twist Jennifer into his arm and kiss her senseless. He had made a vow and now this building siren sang a song to dismember all his plans. He also knew that another fight was coming up and he had to abstain until after. This will be a most difficult and trying 60 days and so the count began