I suppose I should tell you about the footsteps.
I've been hearing them for a few years now, off and on. At first it kind of drove me nuts trying to figure out where they were coming from, but now I've gotten to the point where I pretty much ignore them. I don't think the house is haunted or anything, but if you're...you know. Sensitive about that stuff. Then you should probably know that you'll hear footsteps sometimes.
I'd say they started around the time Ryan moved out. Well, I say 'moved out', but I really don't know what happened to him. Sorry, that sounds melodramatic and weird when I say it out loud. I'm probably creeping you out, what with the footsteps and the disappearing roommates. It's not really that strange when I sit down and explain it, I promise.
Ryan was my last roommate. No, you never met him. He moved out before I met you. He was a co-worker of mine, he needed a place and I was looking for someone to help me make rent on this place because my first roommate was moving in with her boyfriend, and it just kind of worked out, you know? I wasn't crazy about having a guy roommate at first, but he and I had a long talk about it to clear the air really early on, and it was smooth sailing after that. We got pretty comfortable with each other-he was really a nice guy, the kind you could really relax around-but it was never, y'know, romantic. He was just easy to talk to, you know?
But then he changed jobs to something that involved a lot of travel, and so I wound up seeing less and less of him. Most of the time he wouldn't get home until I was too sleepy to do anything more than chat for a few minutes before I started nodding off on the couch, and he was usually gone when I got up in the morning. After a few months, I wound up having the house to myself a lot, which was actually pretty nice because-
Um...okay, look. We've known each other for a while, right? You don't get weirded out easy, right? I just...I kind of feel like I should mention this now, like the footsteps, because if there's something about all this that makes you want to back out we should probably know before you sign your name to a lease. I mean, it's just us girls and all, but I don't want you to be surprised if you come home unexpectedly and I'm...
I like having the house to myself, is what I'm saying. Like, I really like it. Maybe it's because we lived in a really small house growing up and I went straight from there to the college dorms and I went straight from that to having a roommate, but something about knowing I've got complete privacy really makes me want to, well, use it. You know what I mean, right? It's like, I'm sitting all by myself on the couch in the living room with nothing particular to do for a while, and it suddenly hits me that nobody can see me. Nobody's watching me. I can do anything I want. So I take off my clothes, because it seems kind of silly to wear all that uncomfortable stuff when there's nobody around to see me naked. And then I'm all alone, and I'm naked, and it just feels really natural to, um, explore. You know, just kind of let my fingers wander and see what feels good. And then before I know it, I'm getting all hot and bothered and there's only one way to take care of it, and I wind up frigging myself until I can barely see straight. That's not...weird, is it?
Oh thank god I'm not the only one who feels that way. I mean, I'm not an exhibitionist or anything like that. It wasn't until Ryan got his job and I had the house all to myself that I even realized I...enjoyed it so much. It was just really liberating, realizing that I could do anything I wanted to and nobody would see me. It kind of got my motor running in a way I never knew it could; I'd get home from work, and as soon as I walked in the door and didn't see Ryan there, bang! Off went the clothes and in went the fingers. For two, three hours sometimes.
But I want you to know, I wouldn't do anything like that in front of you-like I said, I'm not an exhibitionist. And we're not like...um, like that. With each other, I mean. Not that, you know, you're ugly or anything, but I've never been with another girl, and, um...anyway, I just wanted you to know in case you walked in and I was flicking the bean on the living room couch or something, so that you wouldn't think I was some sort of perv. Because I'm not. I mean, I'm a healthy girl, I like to experiment a little, but I'm not doing anything I wouldn't do in the bedroom-it's just that as long as I have a whole house to do it in, there's something kind of exciting about playing with myself in the living room. Or the kitchen. Or, um...I'm getting sidetracked, aren't I? Right, so Ryan. No, I'm sure you never met him. At least not here, maybe you knew him from someplace else.
The point is, Ryan never walked in on me, um...having fun. He was always away. And then one day it just sort of hit me that I hadn't seen him in weeks. His stuff was all there, but the house just kind of had a different feel to it. An empty feel. I suddenly had this really powerful intuition that he wasn't there anymore. Not just as in "right now", but I felt a total conviction that he wasn't coming back. I can't even describe it. I've never felt more certain about anything in my life.
And I have to admit, I kind of got a little carried away with it. Like I say, I'm not a perv, but there's a lot of ground to cover before you get to the sick shit, you know? I stopped even wearing clothes when I was home alone-like, when I invited you over to talk about moving in? I had to remind myself to put something on before you got here. As in literally walk by a mirror and say to myself out loud, "Oh, right! I'm still naked!" And I also had to kind of make a pass through the house and make sure I...