Prologue:
Mike, or Mikey as he liked to call himself, and I were not the greatest of friends. He used to be part of a larger group of friends; more of an acquaintance - a friend of friends, and I came to know him and his ex-wife at social occasions arranged by mutual friends. In my view, Mikey was a typical ex-footballer, a brash loud-mouth, and even during his marriage, he was known as a bit of a player. After their divorce, I did not see either of them, as our mutual friends seemingly found it awkward to invite either of them to parties. When I broke up with my girlfriend some months later, Mikey decided that he would be the friend I needed, and started inviting me to go out with him to football games and card evenings with his buddies. Gradually, I came to like him - his huge voice matched his huge frame, and as before, he liked to be the center of attention. He was just like a big, friendly dog that would always be wagging his tail, and sometimes jumping up against you, but who would desist immediately at a sharp "NO!". Outings with Mikey invariably involved drinking and (sometimes) girls, and I discovered that he was an easygoing companion.
Chapter 1
:
It all started on a Friday afternoon, playing pool.
Mikey dragged me along to a slightly seedy bar to play pool on a Friday afternoon. It was the first day of a long weekend, and with nothing better to do, I went along. The place was fairly dark, save for the lights over the pool tables and a wall light here and there. Maybe "seedy" was the wrong word - although the bar was old and the furnishings slightly worn, the food was good, the beer was cold, and the Country music piped through the speakers was quite pleasant. Mikey and I each had a burger and potato skins at the bar counter, and then got stuck into playing pool, first against each other, and as the place started filling up during the course of the afternoon, we were challenged to doubles games with other teams.
True to himself, Mikey opened a bar tab, and kept the beers coming. Mikey was an accomplished pool player, and he regularly pocketed five or six balls in a row to win a game. The alcohol appeared not to affect his abilities - if anything, he seemed to get better and better the more he drank.
At some stage during the afternoon, we noticed that there was a young girl hanging around in the shadows, sitting on her own on a bar stool, just watching the pool games. Mikey invited her to move her chair closer, and bought her a drink. In the better light closer to the table, I noticed that she was quite attractive, although not beautiful. She had a cute oval face, framed by light brown shoulder-length hair and a pale skin.
We learnt that her name was Rosie, short for Rosalie, and that she was 19 years old. She wore a slim-fitting white T-shirt and denim shorts, and short cowboy boots. Her body was slim, almost skinny - like a runway model, but her biggest asset was two prominent, pert breasts sticking out from her chest under her t-shirt.
Between shots, we started chatting with Rosie, and learnt that she came from small rural town, looking for work as a hairdresser. As the afternoon wore on, and the beers kept flowing, Mikey took on one-on-one pool games from other challengers, and I found that I had Rosie to myself. I bought her another drink, and we retired to one of the small oval tables next to the bar counter. I discovered that her dad was injured in a work accident a decade ago and was laid off. The family had to survive on her mother's income with the result that Rosie had to leave school at 16, just as her older brother had. She qualified as hairdresser but was unable to find work in the rural town she grew up in, and came to the city to find work. She was supposed to stay with her older brother, but upon arriving, she learnt that her brother was sharing a room in the hotel with another guy, and she had to sleep on the floor, since there were only two single beds in the room.
The gentleman deep inside my beer-muddled brain must have taken over, and I invited her to come and stay with me until she could find work. To my surprise, she agreed. I gave her my number, so she could leave a note for her brother where she could be found, and five minutes later she was back, carrying a small overnight bag - no bigger than an oversized handbag. At my apartment, I offered that Rosie could sleep on my bed, and I would sleep on the couch. She initially argued that she would be happy to sleep on the couch, but I insisted, and she settled down for the night. (I am reconstructing events, as I cannot recall all the details of that night but I do remember waking up on the couch the next morning, and found this slim young girl fast asleep in my bed, wearing only a white T-shirt and panties). I let her sleep and slipped out for my pre-arranged surfing session with Mikey.
Mikey was his effusive, loud self, peppering me with questions. "Where did you disappear to, you man-slut?" "One moment I saw you chatting up this hot young thing, and when I turned around, you were gone. Did you take her home? Did you fuck her? How was it?"
I told Mikey that I had not touched her, and merely offered that she could stay with me until she could secure a job.
"You lazy bugger! Did you play with her tits at least? She's got a nice pair, doesn't she?"
Again, I denied doing anything untoward.
"Oh, Bro - you should give her a few. Don't be such a prude. You should charge her rent; tell her that you'll take payment in kind!" Mikey offered helpfully. "If you don't, maybe I should come over to give her a few," he said, making a lewd pumping motion with his fist. I could not help but laugh.
Mikey and I enjoyed a long morning of surfing, washed down a pizza with a few cold beers for lunch, and spent the rest of the afternoon lazing about on the beach, waiting for the next set of good waves.
When I arrived home in the early evening, I was greeted by cooking smells. I discovered that Rosie had found a frozen chicken in the freezer, and had that on the broil in the oven. She must have spent the day cleaning my apartment from top to bottom. I'm no slob, but a little dust here and there never bothered me. I realised that she cleaned and vacuumed the whole place; even the loose coins on the kitchen cabinet were placed in a neat stack in a corner.
I protested that this was not expected of her, but she replied "You are very kind to me, and I wanted to show you that I appreciate it".
I had a shower, and we shared a bottle of wine with the chicken. Afterwards, I relaxed on the couch with a book. I could hear that Rosie was busy in the bathroom.
A few minutes later, she peered around the corner into the living room, wearing purple pajamas consisting of a pair of shorts and a matching spaghetti-strap top.
"Brian?" She was either flushed from her bath, or maybe she was blushing a little.
I looked at her over the top of my book.
"Don't you want to sleep in your own bed?"
I must admit that she looked quite alluring in her nighties, and I decided to tease her a little.
"Where will you sleep then?"
"Also in your bed" she responded. She seemed to blush even more.
"Aren't you worried that it could lead to sex?" I was enjoying her embarrassment.
"I wouldn't mind."
What the hell,
I thought.
I may be a gentleman, but if it gets offered on a silver platter, how can I refuse?
I stood up from the couch and walked over to her. She remained standing where she was. She was obviously not wearing a bra under her top, and her breasts were pointing straight out under the thin fabric of her nighties.
