I was the bachelor of the office. No big deal. Thirty three years old. My life was solely composed of working or working out. I had mostly gotten the results I wanted. Eighty a year with benefits, insurance, the whole package. After work I'd go to the gym and train for a fight that would probably never happen. I stood six-foot two at 195 lbs of muscle, and even dressed business-casual my sleeves were clinging to my arms.
If you asked me about women when I was twenty-three I would have coughed and pretended you didn't say anything. Now it was pretty easy. I'm glad I got to know the difference. I had a type. I generally liked my women thick. When you're in the shape I'm in that meant pretty easy pickings. But something happened a little while back, something I never would have thought would happen: I got bored. I got tired of the little lies: "No you don't look fat. Yeah I like your politics. You're the only person I'm talking to."
My sex life peaked when I was half a loser; when you're attractive enough to fuck but too low for her friends to see you with, that's when you get the most ass at the nightclub. These days, as soon as I slept with a woman she was calling me back the next day, practically expecting a wedding ring. Couldn't do it anymore. So I took my contacts out and put my glasses back on and went back into work.
When my coworker Kenneth asked me to watch over his house in Avalon, I didn't make a big deal out of it. He was going on a camping trip and needed someone to feed the dog. His place was a lot nicer than my apartment on the South side and I needed the time to work on my spreadsheets for work, I had a whole quarter that I needed to balance in Microsoft Excel. Three days. No big deal.
I pulled up to his driveway around 7:00 PM. Parked my Chevrolet Challenger Demon right next to his Jeep Grand Cherokee, its trunk flung open, Kenneth hauling camping gear back and forth while his middle school kids sat in the back seat. "Finally here, thank god," he said.
"Sorry, had to hit the gym. Got the keys?"
"Here you go." Kenneth handed me the keys to the house. His house was the kind of place a governor would tell people he lived in. Two floors of old brick and warm yellow light. Nice neighbors. Nice school district. His wife brought the last of the bags from the doorway. She had the gait of a woman who was used to being overweight. Besides the few extra pounds, she looked good for fifty one.
"Hi David," she crooned. His wife gave me a familiar hug, squeezed my deltoid as if to take stock of me. Kenneth was too old to be jealous. "It's so nice to meet you."
"You as well. Thanks for letting me crash here."
She laughed. "Anytime. Come on, I'll show you inside."
Kenneth's wife showed me the pantry for the dog food, the living room, and the master bedroom. The house reminded me of my childhood except that the pictures were of strangers. There was one photo on the fridge that caught my eye.
"Who's she?" I pointed at a graduation photo of a young brunette. Perfect teeth, brown eyes, busty even in her gown--probably Kenneth's kid though. Simmer down.
"Oh, that's Casey," she said. "She didn't want to go camping with us, said she's 'allergic'". She made air quotations for effect. "So she went to spend time with her friend over at Southern."
"That's tragic," I replied dryly.
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Forty minutes later and Kenneth and his family were on the road, and I was free to enjoy his 4K TV and blu-rays. Die Hard, The Matrix, Apocalypse Now. Theatrical or Redux? I thought to myself. Better feed the dog first. Santa Paws, or Santa, for short, was a white labrador that even an asshole like me could get to like. I didn't even get the movie started with all the petting he was getting.
After Martin Sheen had killed Marlon Brando it was time for a shower and maybe some spreadsheets. I went upstairs to use the master bathroom and noticed there was a door left open on the second floor. I peeked in. It was clearly Casey's room. Pink walls. Clothes everywhere. Next to her door was a hamper of dirty laundry. A bra strap was hanging out.
This should have been the stop sign for me. It's one thing to help myself to the TV. Creeping on his eighteen year old daughter's room was completely different. I decided to spare myself just this one indiscretion and see what this girl was packing under that gown. I picked up the bra and turned it over and my jaw nearly hit the floor. 26H. No fucking way. That's skinny and top heavy. There's no way she had an ass.
Finally, a moment of clarity overcame me. What the hell was I doing here? I put the bra back in the hamper and went to take my shower. I made it a steamy one. When I was done I didn't put my shirt back on, I just put my legs through some basketball shorts. I admired myself in the mirror for a bit. Six pack abs were not easy at this age.
As soon as I came back downstairs I knew something was amiss. In the kitchen Santa the dog was running in circles and yapping.
"What?" I asked the dog. Stupid.
And then a shadow appeared at the stained window by the front door. The lock turned. Did Kenneth forget something? Why would he turn around to come back here at midnight?
The door opened and she came in. Casey. She looked like a fucking rapper's white girlfriend. She was in the sort of slutwear you only put on when you're going to a Halloween party or a Latin club. Full makeup, foundation, eye liner. Her breasts were barely being held by a midriff with no straps. Her waist went inwards like an hourglass and her hips opened up wide. She stared at me. "Oh shit," she said.
"Hold up, you're not supposed to be here," I said, puzzled.
She almost got mad, and then she looked me up and down. Taller than her by five inches, muscles everywhere. "Neither are you, who are you? A stripper?"
"I'm your dad's friend. He asked me to look after the house."
She rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Of course he would do something like that. Well, I'm Casey."
"Yeah, it's nice to meet you. I'm David."
She closed the door behind her and walked past me into the kitchen. Jesus Christ, I couldn't have been more wrong about her butt. Her ass was squeezing out of some high trim booty shorts. Ridiculous. I looked around for my shirt but it was probably upstairs. "So I'm guessing you didn't make it to your college huh?"
Casey went into the fridge and came out with two bottles of liquor. "No, that didn't work out. So I'd figured I'd at least come home and chill out alone."
I raised an eyebrow. "You chill out alone dressed like that?"
