Read Held Captive By Love Online
Authors: Sandy Anton
Held Captive By Love
HELD CAPTIVE BY LOVE
By: Sandy Anton
Copyright © 2015 Sandy Anton.
Copyright: This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously
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“Just... one... more,” Jenna grunted, giving the heavy suitcase another tug. It lurched onto the landing, joining its partner by the apartment's front door. Jenna leaned heavily against the baggage and gave a heavy sigh. She had only walked up one flight of stairs, but she'd also (attempting to save a little bit on cab fare) pulled the two suitcases twenty blocks to her new place in West Harlem. She'd heard New York City's blocks were short, so had figured the task would be easy, not that it had been the hardest thing she'd ever done (thirty minutes of Pilates was much harder than walking a few blocks), but it hadn't been a piece of cake either.
“Home sweet home,” She grinned, barely able to hold back the squeal as she rifled through her purse for her keys. The only view she'd ever gotten of her new apartment had been through pictures on the Internet, and she couldn't wait to see it in person.
This was it. She was finally here. Twenty-four years old, two years out of community college, a hundred or so beauty vlog posts on YouTube, and dozens and dozens of non-believers back in Wharton, Iowa telling her she'd never be able to do it.
But she'd finally done it, even though she had never been to New York before or had never lived alone. And even though she knew there were hundreds- heck, maybe thousands- of other hopefuls just like her in the city looking to break into the beauty industry, she'd made the commitment.
She, Jenna Smith, had decided years ago, after giving her friend Nancy her first makeover in sixth grade, that she was committing her life to the bettering of women's souls and hearts. One of the ways you could do that, Jenna knew, was by worshiping your body like the beautiful temple it was. And so, last year, she had started her vlog, Jenna's Beauty Blog. The going had been slow at first, but then, a few months ago, views and subscribers had suddenly begun ratcheting up. Jenna had gotten her first paid advertiser a few weeks after that, and with that came connections and advice from all sorts of people all over the blogosphere.
Soon it became clear to Jenna what she had to do if she wanted to be truly successful: She had to move someplace where not only the professional connections were, but where the excitement was.
Iowa had been all she had ever known. And the only thing keeping her there after high school had been Brad. With his dazzling smile and Quarterback status at Oak River High School, Brad had been a catch- and people had never stopped reminding Jenna of that.
After walking in on him with the skanky brunette in the red strappy heels last year, though, everything had changed. There, Brad had been, screwing a near stranger on the bed that he'd shared with Jenna for five years.
She'd packed up and moved out of their apartment that very day, settling back into her childhood bedroom. A week later, after much sobbing, ice cream, and episodes of Gilmore Girls, she'd finally grown tired of being sorry for herself. She didn't want to wallow. No. She wanted actually to do something. And not just for herself, but for other people as well.
And so Jenna's Beauty video blog had been born.
Now life was changing radically, and it was barely giving Jenna enough time to thank God for all her blessings.
Finally finding her keys, she pulled them out of the purse and turned the lock. Slowly, the door creaked open. It was one of the most beautiful sounds Jenna had ever heard. It was freedom. It was the revelry of the unknown. One city. Eight million people. One Jenna. And all the possibilities in the world.
The door hit against the inside wall and came to a stop. A short, barely existent hallway gave way to a room with a single window. To the left was the open-spaced kitchen, and to the right was a tiny bathroom. Jenna could see her whole studio apartment from where she stood in the front doorway.
It was small. It was cramped. It was nothing like Iowa.
It was perfect.
The days passed unbelievably fast, and before Jenna knew it, she had been in New York for two weeks. It felt like she'd spent an entire lifetime there, though. After half a month she knew the subway lines like the back of her hand. Jenna had a favorite rock to go and sit on in Central Park in the afternoons when the sun hung low in the sky and teenagers played Frisbee and joggers ran huffing by.
When she'd first planned her move to New York, Jenna had thought initially that she would have to get a 'survival job' to help pay her rent. Then a stroke of luck appeared when a friend got her in touch with an actor who was going on tour for six months and needed to rent out his fully furnished studio apartment. Not only was the place cheaper than Jenna had expected, but she'd been getting an increasing amount of contracts with companies who wanted to either link their ads to her pages, have her use their products, or have her simply tweet about their new mascara or lip-gloss.
She'd heard numerous times that New Yorkers were unbelievably standoffish, so she'd made a point of getting to know her neighbors. She didn't know just how many apartments were in her building (it seemed like every day she saw someone knew coming in or out), but she'd baked cookies and taken them to the two other apartments on her floor, plus the three above and below her. Not everyone had answered their doors, but Jenna had made a few friends. Right next to her was a lady in her mid-thirties named Tania, who had two dark-haired little boys in elementary school. Directly across the hall was a girl about Jenna's age. Sissy had short, curly blonde hair and colorful tattoos on her arms. She said 'dude' and 'man' a lot, and shared her apartment with her girlfriend. Who Jenna had still yet to meet, most likely because (as Sissy informed Jenna) Carolyn was working on her Ph.D. and spent a lot of time either in study groups at the library or writing papers in coffee shops. Right below Jenna, on the bottom floor, was an elderly man named Mr. Thompson, who was beyond friendly. Every time Jenna left the building, it seemed, he was sitting out on the front stoop, ready to share yet another story about his time in Vietnam or his adventures in Spain.
But that had been it. No one else had responded to Jenna's attempts at friendliness. Tania had, however, after finding out Jenna was single, mentioned a supposedly hot guy who lived on the floor above. “The only thing is,” Tania had said, “He keeps to himself. He's gone all day long and often most of the night. He hardly ever says hello. Maybe he's shy, though,” She'd shrugged.
Even though Jenna had been seeing loads of people coming in and out of the building, she was sure that, even after two weeks, she'd never seen this guy. According to Tania, he had black, wavy hair and the 'body of a Greek God'.
Yeah, she definitely hadn't seen anyone like that.
She had heard things, though. Starting the first night, there had been moaning coming from the ceiling right above Jenna's head. At first, she'd wondered if she was getting it wrong. Maybe it was the TV, and her upstairs neighbors had the volume turned up super high on some weird nature show about lions mating or something.
But the next night she'd heard the moaning and groaning again. And again the night after that. Soon it had been hard for Jenna to deny what was going on. Somebody not only was having good sex, but they were having it pretty much every night.
The nerve, She'd thought to herself, at first, appalled. Soon, though, she was more than appalled. She was intrigued. And for a girl who hadn't had any action in over a year she was, despite herself, unbearably turned on.
On Friday night, two weeks after Jenna had first stepped foot in New York City, she sat on her bed in front of her pink laptop. She'd just finished shooting segments for a video about five different quick and classy hairstyles a girl could do for date night. She still had her dark-gold hair up in the fishtail bun and was debating whether or not to unpin the do.
Maybe she should go out. It was the weekend after all. There were a million bars and restaurants in New York's five boroughs just waiting to be explored by Jenna and her new found freedom.
The thought of going out to a bar and trying to small talk with a stranger, though, made Jenna feel sickly empty inside.
Even though she'd been all too glad to get out of Iowa, she missed the few friends that she'd had there. And sitting in front of a camera and a computer all day in one's apartment didn't exactly provide ample opportunities for mingling.
No, unfortunately, the one thing that Jenna had been making the most contact with over the last couple weeks had been her vibrating dildo. Nancy had given it to her as a going-away present, all tied up in a big bow. Jenna had laughed when she'd gotten it, assuming her life-long friend had meant the gift to be a joke.
But once she'd gotten to New York and started hearing the noises from the apartment above... Well, the dildo had suddenly become very useful, to say the least.
Jenna bit her lip, debating...
And a muffled moan descended from above.
“Damn it,” She sighed. She was wet already, just after hearing one simple noise, and her panties were going to soak right through if she stayed in that apartment.
Another moan, and a loud, heavy bump. Were they moving furniture up there? Jenna shut her eyes, trying not to imagine what kind of banging could actually lead to beds sliding across the floor. She couldn't help it, though.
Giving in to what she'd already known was inevitable, she rolled to the side of the bed and pulled out the cardboard box that rested beneath it. The purple dildo was plastic with ridged edges and three different vibration settings. Another moan, even louder, this time, permeated the ceiling.
She should just go up there and say something. She really should. The whole situation was starting to affect her life seriously.
Yes, she would say something. But not now. No, she wasn't going to waltz right up there and knock on the door in the middle of whatever fuck-fest was going on.
Plus, she already had the vibrator on its lowest setting, and the tip of it was moving back and forth over her swollen clit. Jenna closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall. Another moan from above and Jenna gasped in pleasure. She hit the button, turning the vibrations up a notch. The moans from above grew closer together. Someone was reaching their peak.
And so was Jenna. She hadn't even put the dildo inside herself; hadn't even had the vibrator on for a minute, but a moan was escaping her lips as her hips were rising and pleasure was exploding through her entire body.
Jenna gasped and switched the dildo off. She was beginning to feel like a freak, what with the amount that she had been masturbating lately. Three or more times a day. Was that even healthy?
Somehow frustrated and satiated at the same time, she threw the dildo onto the bed. Something was going to have to be done about the whole situation. It had to stop.
Taking a deep breath, she craned her head. It was finally silent. Until...
Nope. Another moan. Jenna collapsed against her pillow. Jesus, was she really growing wet again?
“Inconsiderate,” She whispered, as she reached down to tug her panties off.