Hot and Bothered

I leap over the couch to rush to the kitchen as soon as I hear the pot whistle. I had everything set up beforehand. My mother likes it scorching hot. She asked that I add a little extra ginger and less sugar than usual. I almost burn myself from yanking the hot pot from the stove. ‘Oh man. Oh man’ I whisper to myself, pulling my flannel shirt up to look at my watch. ‘How long has she been waiting?’

I add the tea cup and the sandwich to the wooden tray. I wanted to run up the stairs but I needed to stay balanced, lest anything spill over and I’m forced to make a second trip back to the kitchen. I knock on her door and enter into the dimly lit room, “Good night!”

“Woah,” she whispers a laugh. Major facepalm moment. I woke the sleeping dragon. Had I known she was already knocked out, I would have shut the door behind her. She half opens her left eye to take a peek at me. The other half of her face was buried into her purple satin pillow, “You seem excited.” She remarks.

I try to play it off. “Oh, no! Haha. I’m just…” but I couldn’t think of an excuse for my yelling. But I suppose she was still so sleepy that she cared little to interrogate me. Not wanting to excite her any further, I lay the tray on her nightstand and take slow steps backwards. As I was about to close the door behind her, she says to leave it open. Damn. Yet another obstacle.

My phone vibrates. I gird myself for what surely would be a string of angry messages. I read the latest notification. I text back that I’m on my way. I’m responded with a red, irritated emoji. I reply back with a laughing face to sort of lighten the mood — ‘we’ve come too far, we’re almost at the finish line!’ I whisper to myself, almost like I’m trying to convince her telepathically. ‘We can’t let a little inconvenience get in our way.’

I was about to run downstairs but remembering that my old lady could rise at the drop of a feather, I decide to walk slowly. There’s a light echo downstairs and so even unlocking the door could resound through the hallways. As silly as it may sound, I actually considered putting cooking oil all over the locks. What episode of Tom and Jerry was that? In retrospect, that would have done nothing to nullify the sound. I put the key into the hole and start turning. Slowly. Slowly. ‘Crack!’ ‘Damn!’ I felt my eyeballs protrude outwards. This door is trying to ruin my night!

I… was frozen at the handle. My shirt, sticky from sweat. I remained with the key in the door for what felt like an eternity, willing my ears wide open to hear what could be going on upstairs. The house was dead silent. I didn’t perceive any reaction upstairs. I was stuck between flinging the darn door open and waiting a few minutes more. I gave into my impatience and I opened it. The inside of the house was pretty dark but the street lights gave her all the glow she needed.

I couldn’t see her too well, but I could see her lips. The light reflecting off her glossy, round lips. The light contouring around her neck and leading into her chest. I think this is the same red top she had in her picture — so small, it can barely cover her bosom. A little tug would expose her completely. I could have pulled down her blouse right then, but we needed to hurry upstairs.

We greeted each other very shortly. I quickly scanned her expression. I wanted to brace myself for how much irritation I would have to pacify later. But I had explained to her the… current situation beforehand. Hasn’t she ever done this before? After all, she did look like the type to jump out the window at the turning of a door handle — sneaking her way to her car on the other side of the street, in the early hours of the morning, with nothing but an oversized sport shirt and no shoes. And that’s how you know she’s a good time.

We made our way upstairs slowly. When she entered, I carefully closed the door behind her — this time the old thing was more cooperative. I held her by her tiny waist and guided her upstairs. I could have pinched her wide hips but I didn’t want her to shriek. When we got to the corridor, the one that goes past my mother’s room, my chest began to throb. Perhaps I could close her bedroom door for a short while so we could pass silently by? Perhaps I could play some music in the living room to mask the noise of our walking?

“She’s snoring!” She whispers. I whisper to her to be quiet. Ok. Ok. I decide to try to narrow the door. Not close it! At this point I whisper to her to head to the door at the end of the corridor as I peek from into my mother’s room to verify that she’s knocked out. I follow suit. We both make our way inside and I close the door.

I turn on my lamp. It’s an awful yellow colour. I wanted to really look at her in full colour, but the ceiling lights are much too bright and I didn’t want to alert you-know-who. I sit on my bed. I take her by the waist and I pull her to me. I look right at her, her furrowed eyebrows melted away. I gently move her brown hair off her shoulders, brushing her soft brown skin with my hands. She gently uncrossed her arms. She laughs as I put my hands under her blouse to feel her warm body. I gather some of her blouse fabric from around her tummy area into a clenched fist and pull it down with a jerk. I think it snapped. I bury my head in her large breasts, squeezed together by her bra. She bends her head backwards.

“Mmm Jennifer…” I mumbled.

“Hehe… my name is Alicia!” She said, pulling my head upwards by the hair to look up at her, unbuttoning my shirt. She bites her lips before bending down to kiss my chest. She drops to her knees and she pushes me so that I lean backwards on the bed. When I tried to sit up more horizontally, she forced me back again with one hand. “Sit back!” She said with her teeth clenched together. She lightly scratched me from my chest to my belly with her long sharp nails all the while she stared me down.

She takes her kisses lower. She used her teeth to unzip my pants. She looked like a biter. I would have told her that I’m not really into that but she looked like the type to do it on purpose just to vex you for even daring to tell her what to do. I hear a creek coming from the hallway and I leap forward! She falls backwards and slaps my leg. “What the hell!” she did not have to shriek! I would have turned around to signal to her to get under the bed but my eyes were stuck on the door.

I swear I could sense her eyes roll as she looked at me from behind. “Oh my gosh…” Didn’t I tell her about the echo?

“Stop. Be quiet.” I said, turning to her. My voice was low but my face was screaming. I know that look — it’s the ‘how dare you!’ look. How do I describe it? The mouth, obviously, opens up in a gasp. Her eyebrows turned up but only slightly. The head sort of bobs backwards. I brace myself for what I knew was going to be drama.

“Why did you even call me if you knew your mother would be home!?” She screams, standing up. Ok. Now she is begging to be backhanded. She picked her blouse up from the floor. She used it to cover her chest area — lucky she still had a bra. She tried to make her way out my bedroom door. When she passed me, I snatched her blouse with one hand and spun her towards me with the other, grabbing both her shoulders. I could feel her muscle become tense. She went from a tigress to a kitten. Her wide eyes were even more charming than her sultry ‘bad girl’ look. I pull her away from the door; she allows herself to be guided. She stood in the centre of the room, quietly and she didn’t move. I remove my bed sheets and pick up my mattress. I place it against the door.

I turn to her and gently pull her by the arm, placing her in front of me. I unzip her pants and she just stands there — I’m focused on her zipper, but her gaze lingers on my face. As I bend down to pull her pants off, I feel her head bend down and her eyes looking at me from above. I lift each leg, one by one, she lets herself be moved like a doll. I pick her up so that she is sandwiched between my body and the mattress. Her mischievous smile didn’t return. She only lightly wrapped her arms around me.



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