He worshiped her.
Most days, it seemed like she almost hated him but he didn’t care. He was addicted to the smell of her, the taste, the texture of her skin.
Other than delivery people, she was the only person he ever saw or interacted with. It had been that way for almost two years.
Every time she appeared on his porch, he knew what she wanted and he wanted to give it to her. Like a junkie, he didn’t say no because he didn’t have the strength of will.
The shakes were too bad the moment she was within touching distance. He needed his fix of human contact, just for a little while.
Each visit, she brushed past him without a word, walked to his bedroom, and took off her clothes. Reclining on his bed, she waited for him to crawl between her legs and deliver as much pleasure with his mouth as she could physically stand to receive.
He never undressed. They never had sex. They didn’t talk.