I slowly wake up, still face down on my bed. Groaning I roll over onto my back, realizing I slept in the clothes I wore to work. The blanket is a rumpled mess at the foot of the bed and the sheets twisted under me probably need washing now. It's a fitting end to my exhausting day yesterday.
It's still light out so I wonder how long I slept. I feel like I finally got enough sleep. So it's probably morning since I think I passed out around 4pm. I pull my phone out of my pocket and unlock it. I stare at it for a moment before it sinks in. It says 4:04pm.
I slept for 24 hours! I was scheduled to close tonight at work. This isn't good. I want to find a new job but not by being fired from my current one. Suddenly panicking I jump out of bed and pull off my shirt, throwing it carelessly towards the hamper by the door. Socks follow and then my pants and underwear.
Yanking my dresser drawers open to grab clean clothes I accidentally pop a handle off again. It was a cheap thrift store find and does that sometimes. I hastily pull clothes on, struggling to get my morning wood stuffed in my briefs.
Once I'm dressed I dig through my dirty pants to find my wallet and keys. I hate panicking and rushing like this. Especially when I finally felt well rested for the first time in months. I pat my pockets for the usual trinity of wallet, phone, and keys. I come up one short.
Looking around frantically for a minute leads to finding my phone on the bed under a fold of the blanket. I quickly check to see if I have any missed calls or texts from work. They've done both before to tell me to come in to cover a shift or tell me my schedule changed for the next day. Surprisingly there aren't any texts or calls. Unusually there are no notifications at all. Looking closely, my phone isn't even connected to wifi, data, or even a cell signal. Great, another thing to worry about.
I look at the time to see how late I am and I'm very confused. It still says 4:04pm. Something isn't right here.
Belatedly realizing something was different I pat my pockets again. Sure enough I have an extra item in with my wallet. I pull out a slightly tarnished old metal stopwatch and the memories of yesterday after work come flooding back. The weird antique store, the amazingly beautiful and dangerously sexy woman/succubus shopkeeper, and the stopwatch that somehow affected time.
That's when it hits me, there's no other sounds. The only thing I can hear is me. No noise from the busy road, no random house noises. Nothing. After leaving the shop the second time I used the stopwatch again to cross the road and must have left time stopped. The date on my phone confirms it. Although how my phone is even working right now is something of a mystery.
I carefully press the right button on the stopwatch. My phone gets a signal again and the sounds come rushing back. The road noise, the random house noises, and the sound of my housemate Brady talking loudly to a woman in the next room over. I flop back on my bed letting the panic die down.
He's a Junior at college who somehow got kicked out of the notorious party fraternity on campus. I never got a straight answer out of him about it but I get the impression it had to do with sex somehow. Our other two housemates think the same but Brady has never confirmed it. Given how much he focuses on sex and getting laid it wouldn't surprise me.
Sometimes his escapades annoy me but being a voyeur, they sometimes turn me on if he brings a sexy sounding woman to bed. And today his partner sounds pretty sexy. In-between Brady's brashness her voice carries through and makes me wish she was in my room instead. I wonder what she looks like.
I'll frequently imagine what the women look like based on their voice and then see if my guess is accurate when they leave. I start to do that when I realize I don't have to imagine it. I sit up with stopwatch in hand and freeze time.
With everything silent again I get up and leave my room, walking the few steps down the hall to Brady's door. I pause a moment. Should I really be doing this? It seems wrong but somehow feels so right. I get the feeling my better judgment is fighting with my lust and growing arousal. My internal debate rages for a few moments until my horny exhibitionist/voyeuristic side wins.
I open the unlocked door to see Brady's surprisingly clean room. Well, sort of surprising. He's told me many times that a clean room makes you more likely to get laid.
He's leaning back on his bed with his usual cocky, borderline narcissistic, smile. He likens himself to being almost as good and good-looking as the famous football player he shares a name with, but that he's probably better in bed than the star quarterback. I don't really care about the last part and the first part is sort of laughable since he let slip he was on his high school JV team and he certainly isn't on the team now that he's in college.
The woman is a beautiful blonde perched on the edge of his computer chair. She's in a tight short skirt and baby doll T-shirt combo with classic red heels. It's clear they were on a lunch date or something and ended up here. Her outfit really shows off her lean toned body and smooth, light golden skin.
Her long legs are crossed and her chest looks to be moderately big, maybe a C or D cup, depending on what kind of bra she has on. Her face has tasteful makeup highlighting and accentuating her naturally pretty face with her straight blonde hair falling past her shoulders. I really don't know how a loudmouthed arrogant guy like Brady keeps bringing such beautiful women home.
I ignore Brady and walk over to his guest to have a closer look at her. Again knowing it's sort of wrong but really arousing, I crouch down right in front of her and look up her short black skirt. I can just see a hint of red panties. Shakily I pull the bottom hem of her skirt up to get a better view. It's a little triangle of red with thin little strips that make me think she has a G-string or thong.
Surprised I actually just did that I let go of her skirt and it stays pulled up. Not wanting to give Brady a free show I smooth the fabric back down, inadvertently rubbing over her crotch and the smooth bare skin of her upper thighs. I get a big jolt of arousal from touching her and my cock is again straining in my jeans.
Thinking I should maybe leave I quickly stand up. Now I have a great view staring down at her cleavage and my arousal jumps again. I just love boobs and she has a nice set of them. From standing over her I can see a bit of white bra under her white shirt. I move around to the side of her to get a better view. Staring at her cleavage I get an increase in both my arousal and the temptation to touch her more.
Again part of me knows this is wrong but a louder part of me, the horny lusty aroused part, thinks this is an amazingly sexy opportunity. I reach down and caress the warm, smooth skin of the exposed top swell of her breasts. It's amazing and after more caressing of her skin I reach further down to grope her firm breasts over her shirt, squeezing them a few times.
Her arms are partially in the way since she's on her phone. I glance down at it out of curiosity to see she's texting someone, I'm guessing a close friend named Megan by the content. Seems this woman's name is Jessica.
Megan: How's the date going? Make it to dude's place?
Jessica: At his place. Thought he was nice. Douchy wannabe frat boy. Ugh!!!
