Ever since my flatmate left for a new job on the other side of the world, it had been up to me to start looking for a replacement. I had a great apartment in Croydon, just outside of London. It was the first floor of a three story flat with two bedrooms, a full bathroom, a fairly large living room and renovated kitchen, off-street parking and a verandah overlooking a park. The rent was steep and I didn't want to move, so I put an ad up.

A lot of replies were discounted because they had pets, were smokers or just sounded way too weird. I was about to give up when I saw Harry's response. I never considered a male flatmate, but wasn't opposed to it either.

I set up a time for him to come and see the place. He was prompt. I opened the door to see a fit, handsome, tall, around 6 feet guy. He had stunning green eyes, a gorgeous smile and a head of messy thick curly hair. He was painfully stylish without trying. The kind of guy who was kryptonite to the average London girl.

"Vivian?" He asked in a melodic baritone.

"Yes." I responded.

"Harry." We shook hands and I let him in. We sat down and soon jumped into conversation.

After about two hours of excellent rapport, I was convinced Harry and I knew each other from a previous life. He informed that his flatmate was getting married and would be taking over the entire flat where they lived. He worked as an environmental monitor in London and my location would be an easy commute. He was easy to talk to and lovely to look at. I hoped I could adjust to having a fit guy living in my flat.

I had some misgivings about sharing my space with a guy. I always had female roomies. I wondered if it would be awkward. What if I brought a guy home? I laughed. A slim chance of that with my recent dating history. What if he brought girls home? Well, I wasn't his mother, so fuck that.

By the first week of June, he moved in with the help of his old flatmate and his fiancé. They carted in all his belongings and helped him get settled to an extent before leaving. Harry spent the rest of the day settling in.

When evening rolled around, I offered to get some pizza and lagers and he readily accepted. Later as we sat in the living room we began to fill each other in on backgrounds. He looked dubious when I informed him that I was a publisher. I assured him it's a lovely job with a great pay-check. He worked strange hours, so he might work three, twelve-hour shifts in a row and then be off for three or four days.

We settled into a simple routine. I was usually up and out as late as eight. On the days he worked, he had to be at work in the evening, so we didn't see too much of each other. On his days off, we usually had dinner together in the parlour.

Soon enough we started becoming good friends.

After about a month, the weather turned warm. The flat had no air conditioning, so we tried to keep cool by a couple window fans, open windows and by not wearing a lot of extra clothes.

I couldn't help but admire Harry's body. In running shorts, his favourite Nike ones, his long, thick legs were nothing short of awe-inspiring. He favoured running shirtless, exposing multiple tattoos, not-overly-broad chest, pecs, toned abs and v-line. He looked especially phenomenal covered in perspiration.

We both enjoyed running and would often take a four mile run in the evenings. One night it was really hot and humid and we returned drenched. I said he could take his shower first and after mine we could hit an air conditioned neighbourhood pub.

I had just finished a tall glass of water and was headed to my room, when Harry came out of the bath. He held a towel in front of him and we almost ran into each other. We apologised and he turned to head into his run. His back was completely exposed. I looked at his butt and blurted out, "Fuck me."

He looked over his shoulder and said, "Sorry?"

Flushed, I stammered my explanation, letting him know it was just a common phrase I was accustomed to, not an invitation.

He immediately dashed to his room and closed the door. I went into the bath and stripped off my wet running clothes, struggling to maintain my composure after seeing him partly naked.

Once we were both clean and dressed, Harry and I walked the few blocks to the pub. The cool interior was a relief as were the tall draft Sam Adams we had. We sat at the pub and paid a little attention to the game on the telly, but mostly drank, ate peanuts and didn't talk. That was unusual for us, because we talked to each other all the time.

Finally I broke the ice. "Harry, this is awkward. I didn't expect you to be naked. I didn't see anything if I'm being honest."

He had a wide grin that lit up his entire handsome face, and turned it on full blast. "Vivian, you said 'Fuck me'. So I'm pretty sure you noticed my arse."

"I was frankly surprised. Sorry."

"It's alright."he answered as he sipped his jug of lager. "I've come to the understand that living with the opposite sex flatmate has its challenges."

"Challenges?" I asked.

He nodded and said, "Don't think about this in some crude perverse way but before I moved in, I was sort of a let it all hang out guy. My former flatmate was perfect about it too. We'd get home and feel really grubby from working late nights, so we'd just about get in the door and start stripping."

I didn't know where this conversation was going so I did what would be best, kept my mouth shut and drank some more.

"We'd throw our stuff in a big laundry basket and walk around absolutely naked drinking until we each had our showers. Most days, it was boxers around the house—at the most. When his fiancé moved in, we discussed it and said we weren't going to alter our habits. I can guarantee you he never complained." He offered that bit with a grin. "I guess what I'm saying is, I should've checked with you before baring it all out. Not all flatmates are the same."

"You didn't exactly bare it all out," I teased and he laughed.

At least this conversation broke the ice and we started chatting normally. We ended up splitting fish and chips at the pub and drank more.

•••

I didn't see Harry for the rest of the week. He had two night meetings and went out with some of his mates. The next time I saw him was Sunday morning. I was being visited by my lovely friend, Natasha.

"Viv, he's far too bloody hot for his own good." She whispered as Harry walked, shirtless, back to his room.

He was in a pair of low slung gym shorts, showing off his sculpted abs and strong back. The usual. That was the typical effect Harry had on women. He was like catnip for pussy. Was I immune now? After living with him for a few months I had seen him posed drunk, crazy high he thought the walls were velvet and we had definitely farted in front of each other. So yeah. He was just Harry to me. Of course he was a handsome guy, but, he slept around like one.

"So...have you both...?" Natasha asked after he retreated to his room.

"No! No. Of course not." I responded.

"Why not! He's right across the hall!"

"I know but he's probably the best flatmate I've ever had and I'm not about to complicate that."

"Seriously?"

"What?! I'm serious. Try to find a good roommate in this city." I said defensively. Suddenly, we both heard a male voice behind us.

"Tell me about it." Harry answered, leaning against the wall next to the sofa we were sat on. Natasha let her eyes blatantly undress him.

"Yeah, it must be so hard." She said, her eyes lingering on his crotch.

Harry smiled, enjoying the female attention a bit before teasing back. "You have no idea."

Of course. I simply rolled my eyes. Natasha was exactly what Harry usually wanted. She was tall, slim, bleached dark blonde and stunning. She had no problem getting any guy she wanted. Especially guys like Harry. I was mostly adorable, and small with dark brown hair. I didn't have insane huge boobs like Tasha or legs for days. But I worked out and took care of myself.

"Is there something you want Harry?" I asked with a hint of annoyance.

"No. Just seeing what you lovely girls are up to."

"Work—" I started

"Nothing!" Natasha responded. "Just talking about boring publishing stuff, join us. Viv, you wanna grab us some beers or wine or...whatever?"

"Sure." I sighed. "Sure." Here we go, I thought.

•••

"Jesus fucking Christ," Natasha voice rattled through the apartment at half three in the morning and woke me right up. I was surprised the neighbours hadn't banged down the door yet. "Oh yes! Fuck me Harry, Fuck! Oh fuck."

It was getting ridiculous.

That was the third time she had been over this week. And knowing Harry, they'd been at it all night and they weren't done yet. Usually I'd just play some music and ignore it, but it was half bloody three in the morning.

Jumping out of bed, ready to go bang on his door to tell him to keep it down, I opened my door and walked down the hall. The noises got louder. I walked out to the living room only to see full view, again, Harry's ass as he pounded into Natasha who was currently bent over the sofa. My beautiful red sofa. I froze.

There was never any doubt of Harry's arse being perfect. And watching him slam in and out Natasha showed off his butt in rare form. The living room smelt like sex, which only made me realise how long it had been since I got laid, let alone fucked the way Harry was fucking Natasha. By the way she was whimpering it sounded like Harry was tearing her apart.

My breathing was getting shallow. I felt myself starting to get aroused watching the sight in my living room carefully and with such longing. Soon I resulted to lazily running my hand over my hardened nipples just to relieve the tension.

"Fuck! Don't stop. Please, don't stop. I'm coming!" Natasha whimpered.

He was fucking her so hard their flesh slapped together at a breakneck pace. Harry groaned as Natasha writhed around him, but he didn't slow his pace. He just latched on to her harder. I began to slowly caress my body, moving my hands south, getting hotter.

This was wrong, so wrong. If I got caught what would I even say? But it was so hot I didn't care. Their panting and grunting was getting more feverish and passionate until Harry pulled out, turned Natasha round, shoved her down to her knees, put his cock in her face and said, "Clean it."

Which she did. Then he held her head on his dick and moaned, fucking her face as he came. They were done or so it seemed. But I wasn't. My core was soaked and aching. I crept back down the hall to my room. I quietly laid in my bed, imagining that Harry was fucking me like that. With passion. With abandon. And then my hands wandered into my pyjama shorts.

•••

"Good Morning Vivian." Harry greeted cheerfully, sitting in his tight, navy boxer briefs on the sofa, eating cereal. He looked well rested and relaxed from last night.

"Where is Natasha?" I snapped.

"She had to go to work. What's up with you?" He asked, instantly picking up on my mood.

"I had to listen to the two of you going at it all night. I went to bang on your door. But instead, I found you two fucking in the living room and saw more of either of you than I ever needed to. Really?"

"Really? Fuck, I'm so sorry Vivian."

"I mean, she was screaming like a banshee. How could I not?"

"I didn't really think about it Vivian. I'm so sorry." Harry pleaded, pouting, setting down his cereal. He came over and bear hugged me. As he wrapped his half naked body around me I began to blush. "I'm so sorry roomie!"

I put my hands on his chest to push him away but he simply squeezed me harder.

"Ugh, please tell me you've taken a shower." I felt his muscles tensing, holding me as I struggled in his arms.

"Of course." He said refusing to let go.

"Cause lord knows I don't want to catch anything from you and your hoes."

"Ouch," He let go. "Burn, Vivian. Just because I enjoy sex and the women I have sex with enjoy it, doesn't make anyone a whore."

"Well...then...what's the point of a relationship?" I challenged.

"What? You won't have sex until marriage?"

"No. Just a commitment. You know, seeing the same girl for more than a week?"

"You got jokes, huh?" He smiled. But there was something else there. Something behind his eyes that seemed a bit hurt.

•••

"So, you work in publishing?" Aaron, my blind date, was going through the usual 'first date' questions. I smiled.

"Yeah, for graphic novels," I responded. He looked confused.

"You mean comics, right?"

"Sure. Comics." I smiled.

Aaron was cute. Incredibly cute actually. He seemed like a nice, put together and all around great guy. He was interning at a law firm, but he was next in line for a full-time position. He lived by himself in a flat in London. He had a pug named Matty and loved taking him for runs up. It was a bit of a trek, but it was worth it. He lived well because he had money from his parents and he wasn't embarrassed about it.

Aaron had picked the restaurant. It was an incredible seafood place in town where it was infamously difficult to get a table. We had just got our main courses. So far everything had been delicious. As I looked around the restaurant I wondered how I was going to afford to pay for my meal if he suddenly decided that he wanted to go dutch.

Natasha had set me up with Aaron. Hopefully, it was because she thought he was a good match for me. Secretly, I think it was to get me out of the flat so her and Harry could fuck in private. I didn't usually say yes to blind dates, but I knew I had to get laid and sitting in my room wasn't going to get me anywhere. When you are getting off to your friend and your flatmate fucking in the parlour, you might need a dicktervention.

So far, Aaron was charming and the more we talked and the more wine I drank, the more attractive he got. Before I knew it, I was pushing the remains of my chocolate cake around my plate with my fork. I wasn't quite ready for the meal to be over. As the waiter cleared out plates, I reached for my handbag.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Umm...getting my purse out for the bill."

"No," he laughed, "No, I took care of that before. It's on me, I know the chef."

"You're joking, right?" I laughed.

"No. Seriously, he's a friend of the family. His company caters our Sandbanks parties every summer."

Stunned, I slipped my wallet back into my purse before asking, "Do you always take girls to your chef's restaurant?"

"Only the ones who I think are worth it."

•••

"Tasha! Natasha! Tash! I know you're here." I practically bounded up the stairs to the flat. I ran in, slightly tipsy on wine, a good date, and an excellent good night kiss. I ran over to Harry's room and banged on the door. "Stop having sex and let me tell you about my date!"

A moment later I heard a girlish squeal from inside and Natasha emerged wearing one of Harry's shirts and nothing else. She gave me a huge hug and dragged me to the sofa. "Tell me everything!"

"So," I started, "we went to an amazing place in town, where he knows the chef, so we got the best of everything. He is so so so attractive and smart and sweet and his family has a house in the Sandbanks and he thinks I'm adorable and wants to see me again as soon as possible." I could not believe how giddy I sounded.

"That is amazing!" Natasha squealed, "I knew you two would get along. A classy guy for a classy girl."

"You seriously believe that shit?" Harry quipped. He was lurking at the edge of the living room in an old gym shirt and black boxers briefs. He had snuck out of his room and had, apparently, been eavesdropping on our conversation.

"Harry! That's rude!" Natasha yelped.

"Listen Vivian," Harry said seriously, "he just wants to fuck you as fast as he can. That's the only reason he did all that shit. He's trying to impress you. If you're smart, you will get what you need and get out."

"Harry that–" Natasha started.

"What if I want a relationship?" I interrupted, "What if I want to see him for longer than a week? What if I want an actual human connection? Not everyone just wants to fuck Harry. God. You are such a...such an arse. I had a great date and you just had to come in and just rain on it."

"I'm just trying to tell you the truth Vivian. Most guys are horndogs," Harry answered.

"You mean most guys are like you?" I spat, "Aaron is a great guy. He is a better guy than you'll ever be."

Harry's eyes narrowed on me. They were stony.

"I'm sorry that you're a cold bitch who can't get laid, but that doesn't mean that you can be naive about the way the world works." He spat.

"Whoa, you guys," Natasha said, becoming the moderator, "let's all just take a break for a second. Okay? Okay?"

The tension between us could have been cut with a knife. I was staring Harry down, but he was holding my stare. Things were about to get uglier and everyone in the room knew it. Finally, he backed down.

"Fine," Harry mumbled, "Fine. Just...don't let me say I told you so."

"Yeah!" I shouted, "And I'm telling you, not every guy is a tosser!"