As usual, it was my mouth that got me into trouble. I shouldn't have even been home that day. But, I woke up with the runs and called in sick. By noon, I was feeling fine and regretting the waste of a precious sick day. So, on a bright, shiny Tuesday afternoon, my doorbell rang, and I was actually there to answer it. She was panting and sweaty when I answered the door. Her shorts - Daisy Duke short - were grimy, but her cream-colored t-shirt (also short) was clean.
As soon as the door opened, she pushed right past me and then closed the door, the doorknob slipping through my hand. She leaned back against the door with her eyes closed, her chest rising up and down with her raspy breaths.
"Uh," I began, but she put a finger against my lips. She held it there for a few seconds while she caught her breath.
"Are they still there?" she demanded.
"What --"
"Go look out the window and tell me if there's anyone there," she hissed.
Still off-balance, I actually did as she said. An old, seventies-green car crawled by, but the sidewalks were empty.
"Coast is clear," I told her.
"Let me see."
She edged over to the window and looked through without putting her face in front of the window. Seeing nothing, she got down on her hands and knees and lifted up a corner of the blinds just enough to peek out. Taking a good long look up and down the street, she let out a sigh and slumped down into a sitting position, her back against the end table under the window.
She looked up at me with deep brown eyes and asked for a glass of water.
"Are you leaving?" I asked her. I was getting the feeling that she was getting too comfortable in my home for this to be a temporary visit.
She carefully turned her head back and looked out the window again. Turning back to me with a resigned look on her face, she said, "Can I crash here for a while?"
"What?"
"I need a place to hide. If I step out of this door - they'll find me within minutes. I swear to you that it's a matter of life and death."
"I don't know you and I'm absolutely certain that I don't want to get involved with whatever's going on here."
She didn't look like she was about to leave. And that was when my smart mouth kicked in. I could have said "Get the fuck out of my house!" or "Please leave before I call the cops." But instead, I said, "I wouldn't let you stay here even if you fucked me."
That's when her eyes lit up.
"I would."
"And I just said that I wouldn't."
"I'm serious - every day that you let me stay here, I'll sleep with you."
Unfortunately, I'm a man. One that had been without sex for over a year. So I began to think about it. But I refused again.
"I'll blow you and let you fuck me."
She was cute. The soft and voluptuous kind of cute. I hadn't felt a woman's curves for so long. My hands ached to caress them. My mind latched onto that thought, and my eyes latched on to what appeared to be C-cup breasts, betraying the "no" that came out of my mouth. I could see the gentle swell of her belly poking out from underneath her t-shirt. All sorts of thoughts started to run through my head. She said nothing, sensing the battle inside of me.
I opened my mouth to ask her to leave, and then shut it.
"I'm ready to do it now, if you want," she said, managing to put a hint of innocence in her voice. Not once in my life have I ever refused sex. Even the horrendously ugly women. Even sober. This was no exception to the rule, despite the awkward situation.
So I nodded to her, trying not to leer. She got up and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Her breath was hot and smelled of ketchup.
She checked the lock and then turned and took my hand. She was about to lead me inside, towards the bedroom, but my hand closed on hers and I pulled her back. I led her instead into the kitchen where I got her a tall, cool glass of water. She flashed me a smile and tipped the glass back. I watched her throat pulse in and out as she drained the entire glass without putting it down.
When she had emptied it, she smiled again. There was something in the way that she looked at me that made me feel like she liked me. Or maybe it was just gratitude, but in any case, it was that look, more than anything, that made me decide to go through with the deal.
"I saw some beer in there," she said.
I laughed and pulled out two Coronas.
"No lime, I'm afraid."
She ignored me as she took a long pull from the bottle. She leaned back against the counter and held the cold beer to her chest, trying to cool off from the combination of her run and the summer heat. Some of her sweat had dried off in the air-conditioning and I finally took a good look at her.
She seemed to be in her mid to late twenties. She had dusky skin and light-brown hair with blonde highlights pulled back into a small pony-tail. Her face was cute, if a little round. She had enough extra weight to give her curves without being enough to qualify her as fat - or even "thick." I could see her belly button peeking out between her t-shirt and the top of her shorts. She was wearing pink sneakers and her legs were long, muscled and shiny from a recent shave.
She took another long pull from the bottle.
"Like what you see?"
"Does it matter?" I winked at her to take away the sting.
"I guess it doesn't. You ready?"
"You wanna take a shower first?"
"Yeah," she sighed and smiled. Then she screwed up her face and looked down.
"I didn't mean that you were dirty -- I just thought ... our first time..."
