Chapter 4.
Moving Day
True to her word, as we stood at her front door once I'd sheepishly retrieved my clothes from the hall closet and put them on, Samantha had handed me a key.
We agreed I'd move in at the weekend, even though she wasn't sure she'd be home. Despite the unusual agreement we'd reached and the surreal feeling the events of the evening had all been some weirdly exciting sex dream, I was touched by her trust.
When I woke up on Saturday morning it felt even more so. Not least because I'd woken up several times during the night. I'd told myself I'd better start getting used to sleeping naked, since it was obvious I wasn't going to be allowed to wear my usual underwear from now on. But the constant friction meant I'd woken horny and restless. The recollection of what I'd agreed to did the rest.
Once I started actually packing up my stuff, I realised rather sadly how little I actually owned. I wasn't even going to need the rental van I'd booked earlier on - an Uber would do. Despite it being overcast, I was sweating by lunchtime and realising the jeans and shirt I'd chosen were probably not the smartest choices. But since I'd cleverly packed the rest of my clothes in taped up boxes, hunting through them for something better was more work than it was worth.
I was just getting my breath back on the bed when Dan appeared in the doorway.
I hadn't seen him all morning and he was clearly taken aback to see my room stripped of all the stuff that had made it mine.
"Damn, this is really happening isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, and managing such a sweet little smile while doing it I could hardly resent the fact it was down to him and his parents that it was.
In fact, as much as I liked my flatmate, I often felt a little inadequate by comparison. He was one of those guys who seemingly had it all; the rich parents, the good schools, always perfect hair and perfectly dressed for his perfect hockey and swimming trained body. And to make it worse, 5 years younger than me and with the kind of face that was both handsomely masculine and inherently likeable. Especially with that crooked smile of his. The guy was a 10 and it was impossible to feel anything but wanting to hug him and make him your best friend. Which he had been to me, letting me live in his apartment for over 2 years for below market rent. It also gave me the opportunity to watch him bring home a string of equally pretty, likeable dates. Dan was an equal opportunities dater too, and while most of his partners had been girls, there'd been a guy or two, and I'm pretty sure Cara was transgender, although of course I never asked. It was hard to tell which were actual dates and which were something else. None of them ever stuck around long enough to get to know, and Dan seemed perfectly happy to keep himself on the market while he had so many buyers interested.
"So do you need some help moving your stuff to Sarah's?" he asked.
"It's Samantha. And actually I was just going to book an Uber, but that would be great. If you don't mind putting my nasty supermarket boxes in your nice expensive car that is."
Since Julia - my other flatmate - and I came from very different backgrounds than Dan, we had developed a kind of running joke by teasing him about the things in his life that were obviously not the norm for people our age. His Tesla was certainly one of them. The thing was huge and cost 4 times anything I'd ever driven, and Julia and I only owned bikes anyway.
If anything, her parents were even more working class than mine, coming as she did from a tiny rural town all the way out in the east.
"It'll be fine smart ass." he smiled. "Plenty of room at both ends and besides, you're going to be vacuuming it for me after."
It was the way he said things like that, partly a joke, but basically true, that gently reinforced the unequal friendship we had. He was a couple of tiers above me in the hierarchy at work, but fortunately not directly my boss. I don't think my ego could have taken that.
After lunch, Dan helped me carry my things down to the car. I was grateful for his help, because despite not having any actual furniture to move, there were more boxes than I realised. I should probably have gone to the DIY store and gotten proper stackable moving boxes, but without a car it was not the easiest thing to do. For the last trip down in the elevator Dan had picked up the one box I hadn't taped shut.
"What the hell is in this thing, it weights a tonne" he said, dropping it on the floor of the underground parking space next to his shiny Tesla. Before I could say "books", he'd pulled open the top. I remembered too late I'd filled up the top of it with underwear so the box wouldn't get too heavy. Even though pretty much every guy I knew my age wore boxers - including Dan I happened to know from the rare glimpses I'd caught - I'd always had a thing for briefs. That's probably an understatement really. I had more pairs than any person reasonably needed. And there they sat, a part of my collection, neatly folded in colourful rows on top of the heavier books stacked underneath.
"Nice undies Andre. It looks like my nephew's drawer at my sister's place. She's so neat too."
His nephew was 8 years old, and I knew he was just trying to rile me up. But I still felt my face flush that he'd found out the little secret I'd kept so carefully to myself the whole time I'd lived there. He laughed to himself and dropped the box next to the others in the back of the car, closing it before I could fold the lid shut on the box.
We drove the short distance to Sam's place more or less in silence, although Dan was rather irritatingly singing "I'm too Sexy" under his breath. But I was too preoccupied by what I was actually about to do to let him bait me. All morning I'd been more or less convincing myself that Sam wouldn't be as strict as she said she would and it would all sort of even itself out. I wasn't exactly embarrassed about what had happened last night. I liked her too much for that, and I suppose I didn't feel as sexually vulnerable as I might have done if she'd been a male friend instead. I knew she wasn't interested in me in that way, so if my naked body pleased her for whatever reason (I'd more or less convinced myself) I was ok with her wanting to see it from time to time. Even if that thought still made me shiver, especially when I remembered the rules she'd said she expected me to follow.
The key fob she'd given me also had a remote for the garage gates. We pulled in, and I pointed out the 3 spaces belonging to Sam's penthouse. Two were empty, and Sam had apparently again taken the brand new Porsche she'd driven me to her place in last night. I'd never seen the other vehicle because it was always covered, but I knew it had belonged to her father. Dan's Tesla did not look at all out of place amongst all the other impressive cars.
We unloaded in batches, dragging everything to the lift, which was more than large enough to allow us to take everything up at once. It felt very strange to be unlocking the door to Sam's place with my own key, knowing she wasn't there. The place was silent and I caught an awkward glimpse of myself in the same mirror I'd seen myself in last night. Surreal.
It didn't take long to carry everything to my new room, which was right there by the front door. If anything, it seemed even more spartan than I remembered. The bed was stripped, and without curtains or anything else on the walls, except a striking painting I didn't recall seeing before, it was almost monastic. The dark wooden flooring was polished to a gloss, giving the only sense of luxury to an otherwise very empty room. Stupidly it was only now, with my clothes stacked up in boxes, that I realised there was also no closet space.
Last night, Sam had had me drop my clothes into a basket in the hall closet, but surely that wasn't all the space I had? I needed more than that just for my underwear.
Dan was apparently a mind reader, because he vocalised exactly that as I thought it. He was out in the hallway, as he called out 'all these doors are locked too'.
He stuck his head around the doorjamb, pulling a face to add in his deepest voice "straaaange." Of course then he also noticed the door was immovable, bending down to scrutinise the little brass bracket screwed into the floor. He looked up at me more seriously now.
"Andre, how well do you know this Samantha? I mean, did you know about this?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
"No closets in your room I can understand I guess, but why is the door -"
"You must be Dan," a quiet voice spoke from the hallway. Samantha. My heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason. This was going to take some getting used to.
"Yes, I's Dan, pleased to meet you ma'am" he said, spinning around and cracking that famous grin.
Sam looking him up and down and extended her hand cooly, almost as if she expected him to kiss it. It was the first time I'd ever seen Dan with someone apparently immune to his charm. But then this was exactly as I knew her - a women so used to being deferred to that it seemed almost indecent not to.
"Is this everything?" she asked demurely, making a circle with her finger in the direction of my sad collection of boxes. I saw her eyes skate over the still (stupid!) open box with my underwear clearly in sight and felt my face flush for the second time in the space of a morning.
"Yes Samantha, but I just noticed there's no storage space in here. Where do I put my clothes?" Saying nothing she turned and walked back into the hallway.
"Your closet space is out here, next to your bathroom. I took a step toward the closet with the basket, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me the other way. Taking out a small key chain from her bag, she unlocked a narrow cabinet next to the bathroom door. It turned out to be a closet with a single rail and some shelving underneath. No drawers.
She could see the question on my face, but before I could ask she stated flatly,
"I have other space you can store the things you won't be using using often. Don't worry Andre, I have everything under control." I was starting to see what she meant.
"Unpack the things you need for work and put them in here. We'll sort out the rest of your things later." I could hear the same direct tone she had used last night and felt my heart rate rising again. Surely she wouldn't, with Dan here?
But before I could react she'd taken Dan by the arm and began guiding him toward the kitchen. I could just make out "You know I think your parents are members of my golf club.." as they turned the corner, leaving me with nothing to do but what I'd been told. Of course by the time I'd hung up my work shirts and put my my pants and t-shirts on the shelves, along with a few pairs of shoes and - help - some agonisingly chosen undies, I'd barely emptied the first box. I looked around helplessly at the rest and decided I was just going to have to trust I'd made the right decision. It was a little late to back out now right?