Sinful Mates 1-3 novel Chapter 2

　　I groggily wake up, the sun just breaking through the windshield of my beat-up Honda civic. I stretch my body, trying to get into a comfortable position. For nearly three months, I have been living in my car, and my body is really starting to protest. Sitting up, I pull my blanket around myself, trying to warm my freezing cold skin. An empty vodka bottle falling off the seat and into the footwell of the passenger seat. Now I know what you are probably thinking: I’m an alcoholic. Well I’m not, nor do I ever drink and drive.

　　The first night I had to sleep in my car, it was minus three degrees. I was freezing. Luckily for me, my mother liked a few drinks, and seeing as I couldn’t leave flammable liquid in the storage locker where my stuff is currently stored, I had no choice but to leave the boxes of spirits in my car. The bottles of spirits inconveniently took up half my boot space. I wasn’t lying when I said she liked a drink.

　　I was going to dispose of it, but I’m now glad I didn’t. Her favourites were vodka, second by tequila. I wasn’t much of a drinker, watching her was enough to deter anyone from drinking. But on that freezing night, I decided why not. I grabbed a bottle hoping to help myself sleep and forget that I was now homeless and having to live in my car. So, I decided it couldn’t hurt. My life was already at a pretty crappy crossroads.

　　I learnt that night being drunk helped me get through the cold nights. You don’t feel the cold when you’re intoxicated, in fact you don’t feel much of anything. My alcohol tolerance has become rather impressive. I don’t drink myself to oblivion, but on nights like the first night I spent in this cramped car and like last night, I knock a few back to help chase away the cold.

　　I watch as the sun slowly comes up. There is one plus side to living in your car. I am never late to work, seeing as I am currently living in the workplace parking lot. No one knows but the janitor Tom. He is a sixty-year-old man, who is balding on top, has kind eyes and a cuddly figure, and he has a grandfatherly nature.

　　He stumbled upon me sleeping in my car one night. I told him it was only temporary, so he has kept my secret between us. My bosses just think I’m an eager and enthusiastic worker. I am always the first person to work besides Tom, who opens the car park and the building, and I’m always the last to leave. I am not going to correct them; they can think whatever they like. I need this Job.

　　Reaching for the ignition, I turn my car over, my phone instantly lighting up and charging through the lighter socket. It is 7am. Getting up I lean over the passenger side and grab my outfit for the day that is hanging from the hand hold on the roof above the door.

　　Sliding my seat all the way back, I slide my track pants off and grab my panties. Sliding them up my legs before putting my black suit pants on and buttoning them up. I then grab my bra, and ducking down behind the steering wheel, I quickly rip my shirt off and clasp my bra into place before putting my white button up blouse on.

　　I just finished slipping my heels on when I see Tom walking up the driveway to the top level of the parking lot. Swinging my door open, I greet him.

　　“Hey Tom,” I say, waving at him before reaching in and grabbing my handbag from the passenger seat. Tom walked over holding two paper cups. My favourite part of the morning, it has kind of become a morning ritual. Every morning Tom walks all the way to the top level of the car park, brings me a coffee, and we both walk back down to the entry together.

　　“Hi love, how was your night?” Tom asks, concerned.

　　“It was fine, a bit chilly but nothing I’m not used to by now,” I tell him, grabbing the cup from his hand.