Interview (NSFW, WIP)

Lucy took a deep breath. She stared at the black door in front of her--the longer she gawked, the more fuzzy her vision became. Her bright, blue eyes traveled down to the doorknob which, despite being a polished gold, looked like it would burn her hand from the slightest touch. She really, really didn't want to do this. If she had any self-respect, she would turn around, go home, and finish writing that 'article' on what makes a Teddiursa so cute and fluffy. She could go home, get into her pajamas, and eat ice cream with her Psyduck.

She could do literally anything else and likely have a better time. She gulped nervously and slowly reached out, turning her trembling hand into a fist before lightly tapping at the door. If no one answered, she could use that as an excuse and leave. That was likely why she knocked so quietly; her brain was trying to convince her that this was a stupid idea. It wouldn't be worth it just to possibly get a good scoop and graduate from writing fluff blogs about cute Pokemon.

What if this story she gets is too much for her? What if her boss thinks she still isn't worth promoting and she's done all this for nothing? Most importantly, what about her dignity? Her self-respect? Being able to look in the mirror in the morning--her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the door creaking. It was quick to open, but to Lucy it felt like each second was longer than the last.

"Uh, can I help you?" A man asked her. Lucy was still staring at the door, as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She shook her head, composing herself and looking up at the taller man; he was the spitting image of her boss, Roger Clifford. Rather than being his exact copy, this man had blonde hair as opposed to her boss's brown locks. She couldn't tell if they shared the same eye color, as he was wearing a pair of small, round sunglasses. Why was he wearing shades in the middle of the night, inside a lit building?

He wore a full suit, black pants with a black coat and a white button-up shirt underneath. If Lucy had to describe him to someone, she would say he looked like some kind of secret agent. For some strange reason, he wore gloves in addition to the suit; they were fingerless gloves with a strange, light purple color and went just past his wrists. She would have expected black to match his outfit. Oh well.

His whole look was somewhat weird, or so she thought. Unfortunately, she had heard through different stories that the man's personality didn't match up with his looks at all--even if he did look like a clone of Roger.

"I'm Lucy St-I mean, I'm Lucy Smith." Lucy corrected herself. If she was going to get this story, it might be best for her reputation that this guy didn't know her actual name. The man smirked and pointed down, directing Lucy's vision to the CMN badge pinned to her coat.

The badge was the only thing that proved she actually worked for a news source. That same badge ruined her whole plan.

"Says Lucy Stevens right there, Miss Smith." The man said with a tone that oozed self-satisfaction, as if just seeing her name badge was some kind of huge hit against Lucy's pride. Well, it sort of was to her, but she wasn't going to let him know that. How could she be so dumb as to forget something that simple? Trying to be sneaky was now out of the question, apparently.

"Well, uh, yes." Lucy replied, trying to wave away the subject. "Slip of the tongue, sorry about that. Anyway, I wanted to ask you some questions about a tenant that used to live here." Holding her hands behind her back, she crossed her fingers in hopes that this would be easy. The man looked her up and down before smirking. It looked like the stories she heard weren't entirely just that. The man stepped back and opened the door, motioning for her to come inside.

Lucy hesitated, but stepped inside after him. She could still ask her questions and bolt before anything bad happened. As she walked into the apartment, she glanced at the man--he was quickly tapping a cell phone's screen faster than anyone she had ever seen before. Even Lucy herself couldn't text someone that quickly, and part of her career relied on quick communication. Just as soon as the man sent whatever message he had furiously typed up, he turned to face her.

"Lucy Stevens, huh. You're a reporter, I'm guessing." He said. Lucy paused--as much as she would love the title of 'reporter,' she hadn't reached that level yet. If he actually thought she was one, pretending it for a night might be fun. "Please, take a seat."

"Yes sir, I'm a reporter for CMN." Lucy replied, sticking out her chest so her badge was more obvious. She sat down a black leather couch, keeping her eyes on him. "I'm investigating the disappearance of Harry Goodman, and I heard that he lived here before he came up missing. You're this building's manager, right?" Before the man could reply, he had returned to typing something. He paused and pressed his thumb on the screen, looking back up at her.

"Indeed I am. You can call me Mr. Norman." He said. Lucy found it strange that he didn't offer his first name, but this wasn't the time to worry about pleasantries. She nodded and gave him her best smile, trying to seem like she was actually happy to be in a stranger's poorly-lit home-for-one. Lucy was beginning to wish that she hadn't left her Psyduck to 'guard' their own home.

"I wanted to ask you some questions, if I may." Lucy continued, hoping she sounded as professional out loud as she did in her mind. "Were you close to Harry Goodman? What can you tell me about him? Did he have any strange habits, like leaving at a certain time every day?"

"He lived in one of the upstairs apartments, that's right." Mr. Norman started, seeming to become lost in thought as he absentmindedly tapped on his phone screen. "I'm not sure if he had any habits, I don't like to pry into my tenants' private lives unless they're causing trouble or something like that."

"I see, that's actually kind of admirable of you." Lucy said, retrieving a small notebook from an inside pocket of her coat. A yellow, ballpoint pen covered in pictures of Psyduck was clipped to the front cover. "A lot of apartment managers can get really annoying when they try to make friends with everyone that lives in their building," she commented as she quickly wrote Mr. Norman's answers down.

So far, this had been a relatively easy interview. Mr. Norman seemed eager to answer her questions, and the apartment's spooky atmosphere faded once Lucy became relaxed. She looked up from her notepad, seeing that Mr. Norman was staring at her--or she thought he was. His sunglasses made it hard to guess. Mr. Norman reached out towards her and grabbed the front of her coat. He rubbed his thumb against it, as if he had never felt cloth before.

"Are you okay, Mr. Norman?" Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's just my coat. Are your glasses messing with your sight?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Miss Stevens." Mr. Norman replied with a smirk. Lucy looked down at his hand--her eyes widened when he gave her coat a firm yank, pulling it further open. She wore a black shirt underneath it, so it wasn't as if he had stripped her, but she was confused regardless. Lucy stood from the couch and backed away, turning for the door. She didn't take a step towards it before Mr. Norman stood up after her. She casually pushed his hands into his pants pockets, looking at her with a frown. "What's going on, Lucy? I thought you wanted answers about Harry Goodman's death."

"His d-death?!" Lucy stammered, her wide-eyed look returning. "He's just missing! What do you mean, 'his death?'" Lucy stared at Mr. Norman. He chuckled and started to walk towards her. Lucy tried to step away, but her feet seemed to be stuck to the floor. Damn this man's enchanting smile. His smirk turned into a wide, unusual-looking smile for just a moment before returning, but it changed so quickly that Lucy didn't notice it. "What answers do you have? What do you know?" Lucy held up her notepad. She tried to seem composed, but watching him slowly approach her made her increasingly nervous. As Mr. Norman pulled her coat from her body and slid his hands up her shirt, Lucy welcomed to the idea of just having to give him a peck on the lips.

"Let me guess, you heard that I didn't give up information without a price." Mr. Norman said as he groped Lucy's breasts from under her top. Lucy nodded and remained quiet, cursing in her mind about her decision to forego a bra that night. It was just another way she hoped she could get information easier. As Mr. Norman continued to fondle her, Lucy wasn't sure exactly what she expected from the night; a kiss, showing off her breasts from a skin-hugging black top, or giving herself to whomever she met for the interview.

"I ... didn't think you were that kind of man ..." Lucy muttered through gritted teeth. Her body betrayed her--her nipples were growing erect from his touch, despite her thinking Mr. Norman was nothing more than a slimeball with a pretty smile. "If you stop right now, I'll act like this never happened. I won't tell anyone."

"But don't you want to know all about Harry's death?" Mr. Norman asked as he pulled up Lucy's top, revealing her perky, small breasts to him. He grinned at the sight of her nude chest and resumed fondling her, squeezing her breasts in his hands. Lucy bit her bottom lip, keeping herself as quiet as possible. A single moan or any sign of enjoyment would just make this guy think he had the upper hand on her, and she wouldn't allow it.

"I do, b-but ..." Lucy stammered, looking away from him. She sighed, hanging her head in shame. "What do you want for it? You're already touching my boobs."