Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Whit

What just happened? I stand alone in an apartment I know nothing about other than what it costs to stay in one room per month. I look around me. The place is stone silent since the little bundle of energy left.

"Yeah, I should…I should leave." Talking to myself. Again.

I turn around to walk the hell out the door only to come face to face with my friend, Spade. "You talk to this Kash guy yet, bud?"

Ah shit. I'm going to take so much shit over the fact I was an idiot. Spade is going to fucking love this.

"Actually, I…"

"I got the movers out front waiting, and they are not patient men."

"Yeah, okay. Tell them to come on up." Why tell him now?

The facts are still the same. I need a place to stay for a couple of months and I did pay in advance to stay here. I can stay long enough to find another place. Afterall, she did say she didn't mind if I didn't.

As soon as Spade leaves, I start down the hallway to find which room was intended for me. The first room I come to looks like purple married a fairy and then exploded. That's her bedroom. I fight back the urge to snoop and make my way to the other room. I don't really have time to do recon if I want to keep the whole Kash thing from Spade for a little while longer.

The second room is empty, so I have the movers put most of my shit in there. It doesn't take us long to get all my shit situated how I want it.

"So, you think this Kash guy is going to be cool? I mean, I can come over next Saturday and watch the game with you and we can lay around and just chill."

Shit.

"Uh, I don't really know. I just didn't really have a chance to properly meet…Kash Ford." Or K. Ashford either.

"Huh. Okay, okay. I get it. You want to make a good impression to start with." I think the time for that is already passed. "How long do you think it's going to take to build your house?"

"I don't know," this I can answer without having to think too hard, "maybe a couple of months. Maybe longer. I don't mind waiting as long as it's done right."

Spade nods in agreement and I offer beers to the movers. We order a pizza, and I can't help but wonder when my little secret is going to come back home in all her pink wonder. How long do weddings usually take anyway? I was under the impression they only took a couple of hours, but I also can't remember the last time I went to one. It's not like me or Spade are running down any aisles. And neither are our friends.

When it starts getting dark, my mind drifts back to the Secret once again. Is she coming back tonight? Do women go to weddings and hook up with guys there? What the hell am I even thinking? I have no reason to act like a fucking boyfriend she's left behind. Yeah, she might be the curviest, sexiest thing I've seen in a long time, and I've always been a sucker for a redhead, but that doesn't mean I need to start thinking with my dick and not my head.

Once Spade leaves, I take the time to do a little digging into the life of my little Secret. I find out a lot about the elusive redhead, like the fact she needs to make a grocery run because all she has in her fridge is something that's growing fur and about a finger's width of orange juice that has a questionable expiration date. The apartment doesn't have very much in the way of furniture and her bedroom smells nice. Hell, all her things smell nice, but her bedroom is where the smell is strongest, making me think this is where she spends the most time.

In one of her e-mails, she did say her old roommate was her best friend. She didn't really tell me why she moved out and at the time I didn't ask because I didn't care. Now I want to know. Was there a falling out? Did the friend have to leave for some reason and is my little Secret sad about it? She was going to a wedding today, maybe it was for her friend.

I stay up quite a while thinking about the woman who will be living just down the hall from me but finally, I go to sleep. But even in sleep, I don't escape her. She follows me into my dreams. I give up and head for the couch sometime around three. When I step out, it's to find a ball of pink tulle and woman, cuddled up on the couch, looking uncomfortable and worn out.

Well, shit.

I don't feel right leaving her on the couch. She already looks uncomfortable as a mother fucker. I shake her to wake her up but instead of waking up she just swats at my hand and mumbles something I don't quite catch. I straighten and think of my options. I could leave her here which seems like a douchey thing to do…or I can just carry her to her room. If she woke up halfway there I could sit her down and help her the rest of the way and if she didn't I could leave her flopped on her bed, which has to be more comfortable than the couch.

I go with option number two and scoop the little redhead up into my arms. She doesn't weigh very much and I'm doing pretty good…until I make it to her room. Then I come to my first problem. Me and her -and the dress- won't fit through her door. I turn us and look at the door of my room. It's wider by a couple of inches.

Double shit.

Guess I'm going to have to take the fairy room after all. I work us through the door and lay her down on my bed. Once I have her where she won't roll off, I stand back and look at her, her red hair half up and half down, her makeup a little smeared and her chest rising and falling as she takes a breath. I find myself staring at the soft mounds of her breasts and turn my back. What the fuck am I doing? That was a truly perv-tastic thing to do. I need to get the hell out of here and let this poor woman get some rest.

She tries to roll over, but the weight of the dress is causing her some trouble. And I feel what little resistance I have melt. Taking her dress off wouldn't hurt anything…right? Surely, she has to have underwear on under the damned thing. I maneuver her so I can work the zipper down and wiggle the damned thing off her. Or at least I try to. I've never had so much trouble getting a woman out of their clothes as I am having now with this little redhead.

I eventually work the damned thing over her hips and slide it the rest of the way off, leaving it in a pool on my floor. The answer to does she have things on under the dress is yes. Even if those things look like they could be taken right from the costume rack of a porn movie. Who even wears the little things that connect to the stockings outside of porn and women's underwear ads.

I tell myself to turn around and leave her. That she is plenty comfortable enough. But find myself turning back again and figuring out how to get her fucking stockings off, then how to take the thing holding the stockings on off. I can tell by how much of her cleavage is showing that she doesn't have anything under the corset which holds me back…for all of five minutes.