Safe and sound?

My lovely Eden had moral standards. That's my way of saying she refused to use sex to get a leg up over other people, or to take money for it; it was practical rather than moral, I suppose. After a bad experience with an older man who called himself a sugar daddy when she was nineteen she learned never to let anyone have something over her head. Now, Eden's definition of 'something' was very different than other people's. I know for a fact there are at least three videos of her in states of disarray floating around on the internet. That doesn't bother her one bit. She made her peace with it when she chose to live a life of hedonism. What she doesn't like is married men showing up at her door and begging her to let her in, saying they would leave their wives for her. On the topic of men she's very anti attachment.

The topic of women is different. You could call her homoromantic, but her idea of romance is also different from other people's. More than once I've come to visit her and found some live-in girlfriend staying for a season. Then things get boring and they split up. I considered it once myself, when I was really, really low on money. We've never had sex. It's too important that we can rely on each other in situations like

I buzzed her apartment. There were men staring at me again, but these were just the stoop gargoyle variety that have nothing better to do on a Saturday morning. I wasn't put out by that. But while the eerie feeling deep in my skull had faded during the cab ride, it was regaining its strength now that I was standing at Eden's door. Wouldn't it be funny if I had just pinched a nerve in my spine or something? That was a straightforward and reasonable explanation, but deep down in the pit of my stomach I knew it wasn't right. A pinched nerve couldn't explain the look on that guy's face. I wanted to slam the button for her apartment another three times. Like that would make anything happen faster.

*click*

I barged into Eden's building and took the stairs. Exercise is the cure to all ills. That, and I didn't, couldn't, wait for the elevator. At the top of the stairs I was more of a mess than before, but I'd bought seconds of peace by forcing my brain to think about fueling my legs instead of my paranoia.

As Eden promised, the door was standing literally open when I got to it. In my compromised way, I spooked, terrified that somebody had broken in and kidnapped Eden or worse in the ten minutes since I called her. But there was music playing over the radio, and when I came inside I saw a teapot boiling on the stove. A second later my friend came out from her bedroom. Eden is tall, dark haired and dark eyed. She never exercises, but I'd still kill for her legs. On this particular morning she was wearing a button up crop top and black gym shorts. Low key. I was thanking heaven already.

"Hey babe, you okay?" she said. And then, smiling earnestly, she said, "You look great!"

I smiled. Finally someone who spoke my language.