Nasira finally meets Holmes and Watson. Oh and Masturbation, so watch out for that if you're not interested? Idk how to warn for this kind of stuff when I've never really written a sex scene before. So yeah...
Celibacy was hard. It'd been almost two weeks since that unsatisfactory night in Central Park and Nasira couldn't remember going so long without sex before.
She wasn't a big fan of pleasing herself on her own, but she was thinking about going to those lengths in the past couple of days. Luckily, there were books and tv to distract her. She saw a computer in the living room, but didn't trust herself with internet access just yet, which is how she knew the moans filling the apartment couldn't possibly be from porn she forgot to turn off. Those moans were real.
Slowly, she crept out of her bed and onto the floor, crawling to the door to put her ear against it.
The two weren't saying anything, but were definitely having fun. Now that's what she liked to hear during the act itself, not guttural moans that reminded her of a cat coughing up a hairball.
They were keeping a rhythmic, deliberate pattern, intent on reaching their goal. 12 days without being touched by another human being can take its toll on an addict.
Nasira slept in her underwear for comfort, but now she was grateful for one layer of clothing being between her and her release. The woman's moans were getting louder and Nasira tried her hardest to imagine someone else's hand creeping into her underwear instead of her own.
She worked fervently, matching the pace of the couple downstairs. Nasira pulled her legs closer to her as she felt that familiar feeling at the pit of her stomach and she couldn't help but to be surprised. Never in the past had she come close to orgasming on her own, but the combination of voyeurism and stimulation through sounds only instead of being accompanied by visuals must've triggered something in her because she came just as the woman downstairs let out her last shuddering moan of relief.
Tuning out everything, Nasira lay completely on the hardwood floor as she continued to stroke herself down from her climax. It'd felt amazing, but she didn't want to have to rely on the act for the next six weeks.
A knock on the door brought Nasira out of her lax physical state and into a rigid and stiff one, promptly causing her to remove her fingers from where'd they previously been.
"Open up." The voice was british, male and not very happy. Maybe the couple had fled after being caught by this neighbor? Or housekeeper of sorts? Landlord maybe?
"Just a moment!" Nasira replied, getting up to pack as many things as she could into her large duffle bag so that she could make a run for it. "Shit." Nasira whispered, looking down at the only thing preventing her from leaving this place.
So instead, she opted to get dressed so she could talk to this man fully clothed. What exactly she planned to say, hadn't come to mind yet. Nasira'd never been one to talk her way out of a tough situation. Sex had always been her weapon of choice, not her tongue.
Slipping on her shirt, she heard the front door close, leaving her in complete confusion.
Convinced that a prank was being played on her, Nasira stayed in her room for the rest of the day, only sneaking out for a quick pee and or snack.
It wasn't until nightfall when she heard the door opening again and two sets of footsteps climbing the stairs. They both stayed in their respective rooms until the shorter steps made their way downstairs and minutes later, the pair that remained went up what she guessed to be another flight of stairs.
Nasira figured it'd be harder to kick her out if she were on a rooftop than the first level of the brownstone. Throwing on a hoodie, she followed the second pair of footsteps upstairs.
She crept up there slowly, but she was pretty sure he could hear her coming. If he did, he made no effort to acknowledge her presence, allowing Nasira to tip-toe closer.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Nasira walked into his line of vision which happened to be a few feet away from some sort of large wooden beehive. "How come you're not kicking me out?" Not that she wanted him to, but after hours of paranoia, she needed to know.
In the time it took him to answer her, Nasira spent looking at him. She was sure this was the man who was at her door. He hadn't spoken yet, but the other pair of feet sounded like heels. "You took the room I wanted." He didn't take his eye off the hive which only unnerved Nasira further.
Not knowing what to say to that, she shuffled her feet, not knowing if she should stay or return to the confines of her room where everything made sense. Nasira chose the former, taking a good look at this weirdo.
Even though he was seated, she could tell he was shorter than her. And he had the same British accent, confirming that this was the very man from earlier. His hair was messy and he hadn't shaved in a while. His nose was narrow and pointy and on either side were very wide, very beautiful eyes. She just couldn't tell what color they were at this angle.
"It's not as if you could leave anyway." He stated, finally taking his eyes off the hive to look at her ankle before directly into her eyes. Blue, they were a light blue.
"How'd you know?" She asked, finally gaining some confidence with him.
"I heard about the peculiar arrest of a nymphomaniac a few weeks ago in Central Park. With the addition of the scent permeating out of your room, it wasn't hard to figure out." Nasira cringed at the term Nymphomaniac and blushed at the mention of her odd combination of eavesdropping and masturbation. Her gut finally dropping at the realization that it had been his moans she heard this morning.
"Sherlock! Who is this?" Lost in her thoughts, Nasira had failed to notice a third person join them on the rooftop. A woman; a very attractive woman with long dark hair, high cheekbones and freckles all over her face. At this point, Nasira was sure she'd entered her own personal hell.
Two attractive people that definitely fell into the category of her type, invading the safe haven she'd been using to wean herself off her little addiction. "Nasira Layton, 25. Born in Chicago, Illinois to a Betty and Jonathan Layton."
Nasira's eyes widened, startled by how he knew so much about her. "Ok… but what is she doing here?" She tried to speak up for herself, but Holmes was having none of it.
"When I am not consulting for NYPD, I need to remain busy. Nasira is a natural apiculturist, aiding me in the writing on our observations of the segregation of the queen." All she could do was nod, but the woman looked at her expectantly and 'Sherlock' didn't look like he was going to say anything else on the fabricated matter, essentially leaving her hanging.
"He wants me to stay here for short notice observations since bees have such short lifespans you know." Nasira knew she didn't sound convincing, but it was the best she could do. "I'll stay out of your way, don't worry. You won't even know I'm here."
And with that, Nasira removed herself from the awkward situation, breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn't getting the boot as she'd originally expected. But she wasn't so sure living with those two was going to be any easier than having her ankle bracelet go off.