I shared an apartment with my college roommate for a couple of years after we graduated. It was an older building without central air, but with spacious, screened sun rooms at the back of each apartment. In summer, I often slept in our sun room in the small breeze created by an oscillating fan. We'd acquired a few thrift-store couches and outdoor recliners to furnish the sun room, and for much of the year, we drank beer, listened to ballgames on an old radio, and thoroughly enjoyed the openness of the room. The dark screens ensured our privacy during the daylight hours, as well as, kept the room cooler than the rest of the apartment. Keeping the lights off at night made it all but impossible to see into the sun room after sunset. It was my favorite room in the apartment, and was outfitted as a perfect low-budget retreat. Unfortunately, the view from the sun room was mostly of the screened-in back porches and sun rooms of our neighbors, but there were trees and shrubs behind our building offering some relief from urban concrete.
One Friday in summer, at the end of a very long work week, I got home feeling grimy, hot, and tired. Jack was off on a business trip, so I had the place to myself. I wasn't feeling very sociable and was looking forward to the solitude. I felt more uncomfortable with each step as I ascended the stairs, and I could hardly wait to get out of my shirt-and-tie work uniform. After locking the door behind me, I tossed the junk mail in the growing pile on the small table in the entry way. I sat long enough to remove my shoes, socks and tie and carried them to my bedroom where I dropped them unceremonious at the foot of the bed. I unbuttoned my shirt as I walked toward the kitchen, detouring long enough to turn on the shower. I inspected the beer inventory in the refrigerator, reduced it by one, and held the dark glass against my forehead. I took a deep drink and set the bottle on the kitchen table. I needed both hands to continue unbuttoning and unzipping.
I left the kitchen with my clothes draped over my arm, the beer in hand, and wearing only my boxer briefs. I added the clothes to the pile I'd already started, and with my now free hand, pulled down my briefs and stepped out of them. Finally feeling some relief from the heat, I padded toward the shower as I drained the beer. I was light-headed from drinking so fast, and I lingered in the cool shower letting its spray wash away the fatigue and heat of the afternoon.
After a half-hearted effort to towel dry, I opened another beer and went back to my room. I put on a clean pair of boxer briefs and a loose tee after first considering wearing nothing. I turned on the fan and dropped down into a recliner in the bright light of early evening, turned on the radio and looked at the sky. I felt drowsy from the beer and the heat. I edged up in the recliner, thinking it would revive me. Instead, I dropped into a deep sleep.
"Are you waking up?" A feminine voice whispered. I started, not yet fully awake, nor remembering falling asleep in the first place. I realized a hand was resting on my thigh, almost imperceptibly stroking my leg through the fabric of my briefs.
"Easy...." She said, "Don't panic".
I turned toward her voice. It was quite dark and the night time insect and traffic noises floated in on the warm air. To my relief it was much cooler than when I feel asleep. A subtle perfume scent blended with the moist smell of the night air. The hand stroking my thigh felt soft and warm; the rhythm, more lively, but still very light, very pleasurable.
"Who?" I tried to ask. A soft laugh answered.
"It's Maggie. Don't you recognize my voice?"
"Maggie," I replied, still struggling to wake up.
"Sorry to startle you like this," she said, "Jack gave me a spare key in case I needed to get in when he wasn't here."
"Oh."
She laughed. "You're having a tough time waking up, aren't you cutie? Take a minute or two... I'll be quiet."
