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Saint Dirty Face

Tag: #TheNeighborNextDoor

  • The Neighbor Next Door (After Hours, Part IV – The Aftermath)

    Robert

    18+ Only – Saint Dirty Face After Dark

    Morning crept through the blinds, slicing the room into bars of gold and shadow. Clothes were scattered like confessions across the floor—whiskey glasses tipped on their sides, smoke curling lazy trails from the ashtray on the nightstand.

    Sarah lay sprawled across the bed, red hair tangled into fire, emerald eyes half-hidden but still burning. A cigarette in one hand, my crumpled bills in the other. And when she spoke, it wasn’t the tease, or the dare, or the pool shark anymore. It was something else.

    Her voice carried a softness wrapped in steel:

    “I never planned on this. Thought it was just another Friday night—another whiskey, another game, another neighbor too slow to catch the hint. But then you… you made me laugh. You made me forget the clock, forget the hustle, forget myself.

    I fooled around… and damn it, I fell in love.”

    She smirked then, brushing hair from her face, her tone snapping back to wicked.

    “Don’t get cocky, Saint. I still beat you. But maybe you won something after all.”

    I just watched her in the morning light, realizing every game we’d played—the hallway smiles, the pool shots, the breadcrumb bills—was just leading here. And for once, I didn’t care if I’d won or lost.

    Saint Dirty Face Closer

    Funny thing about games—they end. But sometimes the night doesn’t. Sometimes it just changes who’s holding the chalk.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Wicked. – Saint Dirty Face

  • The Neighbor Next Door (After Hours, Part III – The Walk Back)

    Robert

    18+ Only – Saint Dirty Face After Dark

    The neon glow of O’Malley’s bled into the night behind us, traded for the quiet streets and the echo of Sarah’s laughter. She walked a step ahead, hips swaying like the rhythm of a song I couldn’t get out of my head.

    Every so often she tossed a glance over her shoulder—just enough to remind me I was following, not leading.

    That’s when I noticed it.

    Dollar bills slipping from her back pocket, fluttering down onto the sidewalk one by one. Like breadcrumbs. Like a dare.

    I bent to scoop them up, each one more ridiculous than the last. She didn’t stop. Didn’t even look back. Just let them fall and kept walking, her grin growing wider with every step.

    By the time we reached her apartment building, I had a fistful of bills and a head full of questions I already knew the answers to.

    She turned at the door, green eyes glinting under the hallway light. “Careful, Saint,” she teased, her voice low, velvet wrapped around a knife. “Some debts can’t be paid back with cash.”

    The door opened. The air between us cracked.

    Inside was another world.

    Saint Dirty Face Closer

    Some games aren’t about money. Some games start on the sidewalk and end heartbeat against heartbeat. And by then? Winning doesn’t matter.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Wicked. – Saint Dirty Face

  • The Neighbor Next Door (After Hours, Part II – O’Malley’s Bar)

    Robert

    18+ Only – Saint Dirty Face After Dark

    The night air buzzed as we walked, neon signs bleeding color into the pavement. Sarah moved fast, like she had a destination burned into her blood, while I tried to play it cool. But every glance she threw me over her shoulder carried that spark—the kind that makes you forget your own damn name.

    “Think you can handle me at pool?” she teased, brushing her hair back, emerald eyes glinting.

    “Handle you?” I smirked. “I’m more worried about handling the whiskey.”

    She laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut through the street noise, and before long O’Malley’s swallowed us whole.

    Inside, the place throbbed with jukebox classics and the low hum of half-drunk conversations. The scent of spilled beer and cigarette ghosts lingered in the air. I grabbed us two whiskeys; she grabbed a cue.

    “Ladies first,” I offered.

    She leaned low over the table, red hair falling forward, eyes locked on me as much as the ball. “Oh, I know,” she purred, sinking the break clean like she’d rehearsed it in her sleep.

    I tried to focus, but whiskey burned my throat and the sway of her hips burned something deeper. Every shot she made wasn’t just a ball into a pocket—it was a nail into my coffin.

    By the time the eight ball rolled home, I was down cash, pride, and most of my ability to breathe.

    Sarah grinned wickedly, scooping up the bills. “Told you I was a shark.”

    But instead of pocketing them, she slid the money back across the table, fingers brushing mine, her voice dropping low enough to drown the jukebox.

    “Relax… let’s go home. I’ll give you a chance to win it back.”

    Saint Dirty Face Closer

    Relax? Not a chance. I say stay dirty, stay wicked. The night was just getting started.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Wicked. – Saint Dirty Face

  • The Neighbor Next Door (After Hours, Part I – Dirty Cut)

    Robert

    18+ Only – Saint Dirty Face After Dark

    Sarah McGillicuddy—28, fire-red hair brushing her shoulders, emerald eyes that caught light like stained glass, pale skin that looked both soft and dangerous. She wasn’t your cliché girl next door. She was the neighbor who made the hallway feel alive every time she passed—smiling, laughing, carrying that restless energy like a secret.

    Most days it was nothing more than polite nods and quick hello’s. But underneath? I knew there was more. I just hadn’t found the nerve to ask. Until one night at the mailbox, I finally did.

    “Any plans tonight?”

    She leaned against the wall, tilting her head, lips curving into that sly, playful smile that made it hard to breathe. “Not really. Thought about grabbing a drink, maybe hustling someone at pool. But my friends bailed on me, so… it was shaping up to be one of those rare boring nights.”

    That was all I needed.

    “Well, I’m not busy. What do you say we go? Whiskey, pool, just… something more than hallway small talk?”

    Her eyes flicked over me, quick and deliberate, like she was letting me know she’d thought about this before. That grin spread wider, soft but wicked.

    “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask. Yes. Knock on my door at eight. There’s a bar a few blocks away—O’Malley’s. We can walk.”

    I grinned. “O’Malley’s? Perfect. Been there a few times.”

    She brushed her hair back, voice dropping into a whisper meant just for me.

    “Good. Wear something comfortable. I play pool fast, I drink whiskey slow… and I like winning.”

    She winked, then turned and left me standing there with my pulse hammering in my ears. Eight o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

    Saint Dirty Face Closer

    Sometimes the fire’s been right next door the whole time. All it takes is asking, and the night burns wide open.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Wicked. – Saint Dirty Face