"Son of a bitch!"
The words slip from Stacey's lips as the door shuts behind her and bumps against her ass. She clutches the white towel tightly around her body and turns around to bang against the door with her fist.
"Open the door, Claire!" she yells, praying that Claire will unlock the door and let her back into her apartment.
"Hmm, let me think about that... nope!" Claire said.
Her voice carries through the door and Stacey stomps her foot in a childish manner.
"Damn it, Claire. It's my apartment!" she pouts and continues to pound her fist against the door.
She quickly glances up and down the hallway, as she continues to drip water onto the hardwood floor of the hall. Just as she goes to open her mouth to yell at Claire again, she hears a snicker behind her. She whips around, her wet hair sticking to her face as she does. His tall frame takes up most of the doorway and Stacey has to crane her neck to see his face. He's leaning against the door in only his boxers and looking her up and down in only her soaked yellow bath towel. He wears a sly grin and Stacey feels her face flush pink. Of course, it would have to be him to find her outside of her apartment in nothing but a towel, embarrassing herself at 5 o'clock in the morning.
(Stacey has seen him around the building on a couple occasions and he's been the subject of her wet dreams ever since he moved in across the hall.)
Their mutual flirting whenever they see each other around doesn't help, of course. He's just so... dreamy. Dreamy, as in, every time she sees him. She wants him to push her against the wall and fuck her until she can't see straight. She musters up every ounce of dignity she has, lifts her chin and stares at him straight in the eye.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" the guy quirks a dark eyebrow at Stacey, the smile on his face becoming more amused.
"Don't mind me, continue on with... whatever you were doing," he says.
His deep voice sending shivers down her spine, as he waves his hand absentmindedly towards her door. His large, rough, strong hand... No, she thinks to herself, focus.
"Oh, I will, thanks," Stacey says sarcastically.
"If you don't mind me asking... what exactly are you doing?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.
"What the fuck does it look like?" she seethes at him.
"I'm locked out." she sighs, pounding her fist against the door once more.
He glances down at the puddle surrounding her feet. She pounds her hand against the door three times and she feels her feet slide, no doubt due to the water now coating the floor. Stacey grips the handle, steadying herself before she falls.
"Careful," he says, "it's a little slippery down there."