"You're so beautiful."
I looked up warily. "Um. Thank you."
I was sitting at the kitchen table with an apartment guide, jotting notes and folding down pages. This was the second month in a row that we weren't going to be able to pull off Jackson's rent without a miracle, and though miracles tended to happen to us, they weren't a thing that should be counted on... thus the search for a new and cheaper apartment. Which I would have to follow up on, too. Between Layne's dreadlock mohawk, Hal's air of menace, and Jackson's tendency to wear pajamas everywhere, I was the most likely to pass as someone you'd want to rent an apartment to.
"Do you mind if I masturbate, looking at you?"
I put down my pen and looked at him; he already had his pants unbuttoned. I can't even remember his name now, much less his face - just that he had long brown hair. Jackson's place was full of random people; at the moment, it was just me and this guy. I was speechless, really. What does one say to that? "Um... I guess so. Just - I'm not gonna do anything with you."
"Yeah, that's fine. I just want to look at you, okay?"
Of course I was drastically uncomfortable. This was my life then - sitting at a dilapidated kitchen table comparing apartment ideas while a near-stranger sat in a chair opposite the stove and intently stared at me as he methodically stroked himself. I remember the light - the kitchen window was right over the table, and it made the salt shaker sparkle. I remember how cramped it was in the kitchen due to the cases of Hungarian champagne.
But for the life of me, I cannot remember that guy's name.