"...with highs reaching the triple digits through the end of the week for the metro area..."
UGH, I groaned lethargically from my bed as I switched off the newscast. Frustrated, I sat up and attempted to blow my red bangs off my sticky forehead, finally roughly brushing my hair back and pulling it into a high ponytail at the back of my head.
The city was in the midst of its worst heat wave in a decade, and my air conditioning had quit three days ago. I picked up the phone and lazily punched in the numbers. I'd called Mr. Miller, my building's aging superintendant, every day, growing ever more desperate at his replies of "I'll get to you as soon as I can, Sarah. There are a lot of tenants and a lot of people have probl-" I hung up with a huff before he could finish his sentence. The heat was taking its toll on my patience, as well as my usually cheerful demeanor.
I struggled out of bed and pulled on a pair of cotton shorts over my pink thong. I stretched my arms over my head, silently begging for wind to cool my burning chest. Finding no relief in the hot, still air, I pulled a pink lace bra from my drawer and tucked my pert d cups into the garment, arching my shoulders while hooking it behind my back. I grabbed a thin white tank top from the drawer, feeling the soft cotton momentarily flash cool against my ribs and stomach before sticking to my flesh in a matter of seconds. UGH, I said again, and walked through the apartment to the kitchen for a glass of ice water.
As I gulped down the cold liquid, I heard a sudden, solid knock at the front door. The noise caused me to jump, spilling water down the front of my shirt, pasting the garment against my flat stomach and lace covered breasts.
"Balls!" I exclaimed, wiping my hands down my shirt and fanning the front away from my body in an attempt to dry and disguise the spill. A second round of raps at the door again adjusted my focus. If Mr. Miller was finally here to fix my air conditioning, I certainly didn't want to keep him waiting! I hurried across the room, feeling my damp tank top sticking to my stomach, pulling to expose the upper lace edges of my bra.
I reached the door, undid the chain and turned the deadbolt. "Thank goodness you're finally he-" I started but my words caught in my throat as I surveyed the scene awaiting me at the door. Familiar, 67-year-old Mr. Miller was not waiting for me at the door; instead, I found four towering, handsome black men, toolbelts at the ready, in a half circle in front of me.
"You been waiting long for us?" said the older among the group with a full, toothy grin. "I'm Mr. Freeman. My team and I are here to help you out." Mr. Freeman was roughly 35, but clearly fit, and roughly 6'1", though he was noticeably shorter than two of his younger companions. The other three chuckled quietly at his response.
"Yes. My AC has been out since Tuesday. I work from home, and I can't stand this with the weather being what it is!" I stammered, finding myself chattering on out of nerves.
"Well, why don't you show us where the problem is, little lady?" Mr. Freeman continued. The four of them entered my apartment, not waiting for my say-so and surveyed the inside of my home.
I wiped sweat from my brow, tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and tugged at my tank in an attempt to cover more of my generous chest.
"It's right through here," I said, pushing through the immense knot of humanity and leading to the utility closet in the bedroom. I opened the door and revealed the malfunctioning apparatus. "Any idea how long this is going to take? It's just... been a hot couple of days...and going to get hotter..." I trailed off, getting shy as the four enormous men fixed their eyes on me, suddenly realizing just how little I was wearing.
"Don't worry, Miss, we're not gonna rush anything, but we'll make sure everything's done right." Mr. Freeman replied. He then turned to introduce his team, "This is Reggie, John and Julian." He indicated along the line. They each waved, Reggie shyly, clearly being the youngest despite being the largest among the group at a well-muscled 6'4".
"It's nice to meet all of you guys. If you're all set here, I need to make a phone call." I walked to the kitchen, dialing my coworker and friend, Heather, to talk about work and mostly my most recent breakup not more than one week removed. Over the phone, she heard the clattering of metal parts echoing from my bedroom and inquired as to the source. "It's the workmen here fixing my AC... there are four of them... oh my God, Heather! No, haha, I mean they're good looking, but they're all black guys..." I said into the mouthpiece, and turned to find Reggie standing quietly at the entrance to the kitchen, smiling shyly. Blushing, I hung up the phone without further comment.
"We found this jammed in the filter, Miss." Reggie said, holding up a piece of fabric that seemed only a minute scrap in his monstrous hand. My eyes moved from his enormous grin, following his muscular arm up to his meaty mitt holding the miniscule bit of black... lace! Suddenly, I realized that Reggie was holding one of my skimpiest thongs; one that essentially consisted of string and a small patch of transparent black mesh at the front. I couldn't imagine how that would have wound up in the AC filter; I didn't remember wearing it recently. Looking down at me, Reggie grinned from ear to ear and raised his arm as I rushed to him and started jumping against him, reaching for the tiny piece of material. I jumped in vain, as he was more than a foot taller than me, with arms that nearly reached my ceiling; out of embarrassment and confusion, I still leaped at him. With my activity, I didn't notice just how much he was enjoying the "game", as my barely-clad breasts pushed repeatedly into his chest and my thin shorts rode up my legs.
