The warm sun pours into the room kissing my bare skin as I turn over in the bed. A comforter is hugging my body, soft and fluffy as it consumes me. I cuddle into it, curling my toes a little as gentle touches linger on the pad of my foot.
Wait.
Sitting up abruptly, I come face to face with a man at the end of the bed. Squinting a little as my eyes focus in the bright room I first make out his black hair, then his dark eyes watching me. In one hand is a small bottle of mauve nail polish and in the other is my left foot. My body is frozen, scared that if I move then something could happen. I'm not sure what exactly, but my instincts and unfamiliarity are kicking in. Who is this man with his strange aura and foot fetish? What is this room that I'm in?
Too scared to move my head from his direction, I skim through our surroundings quickly, sucking in a breath when I do. I had been too focused on the strange man that it took me a while to notice, but this has to be a penthouse. Usually my nightly expeditions cause me to end up in a dingy motel, but never something like this. The walls are a dark grey and the bed is a king size. Floor to ceiling windows allow the rising sun full access past the tall, soft blue drapes. A navy tufted ottomon rests at the end of the bed, serving as the current seat for the strange man, with a matching seating area behind him close to the windows. Attention landing on my left, I can see a door. I turn my head finally, looking at it intently. How fast could I get there? I wonder if I could make it before he catches me.
"Whatever you're plotting is unnecessary." His deep voice fills the room, causing my focus to go back to him. He's going to kill me, he's threatening no escape. No, I still have to try.
I sit up a little more in bed hesitantly, his eyes trained on mine. He really is handsome, but that doesn't mean anything. Ted Bundy was considered handsome, too. Attractiveness means nothing if you're a bad person or serial killer.
A pillow to his face is an effective way to distract him, it may give me enough time to sprint to the door. As I finally prop myself up fully, the blanket falls down off me, revealing my bare chest. I quickly pull the blanket up, face flushed as I realize. I'm completely naked, this is definitely a fault in my plan…
The man sighs and grabs my foot, pulling it back towards him as he twists it so he can continue painting. "I don't know what's going through that head of yours, but I need to finish these. It'll look weird if I don't."
"Is this some weird kind of ritual? You appease your foot fetish before killing me?" I crumple the blanket up in my hands as I hold it up under my chin.
"Foot fetish? You asked me to do this, don't you remember?" He looks up at me, raising an eyebrow.
"Look, I won't charge you for whatever happened last night, and I'll keep my mouth shut over you keeping me here…" Bargaining is the only thing to do, this man seems insane, this maybe my only way out.
"What exactly do you think happened last night?" His voice has an amused tone to it, an incredulous grin growing on his face as he tilts his head.
"Well…" Should I say all that I think? Well, I suppose if he's going to kill me it doesn't matter if I'm going to explain all the possibilities. "I was black out drunk, we came back to your place where we probably had sex…"
"We didn't."
I stare at him for a long moment, "we didn't? Then why am I naked?"
"Do you want to play 20 questions, or should I just fill you in on everything that happened last night?" He closes the nail polish bottle and places it next to him before leaning back on his palms. A playful expression sits on his face and I wiggle my toes, looking down at them as I start to feel a bit embarrassed. They look pretty.
"Full story."
"Then I'll start with how we met, since you apparently don't even remember that far. I walked into The Club Azule and made a b-line for the bar. I had a long day at work, and I was wanting to unwind a bit with a glass of straight bourbon-"
"Good choice, that's the best of the cheap whiskeys." I nod in approval, it's my drink of choice when I'm feeling a whiskey. Mainly because of the price, I'm a cheap drinker.
"Yeah, cause you're a cheap drinker, we went over this last night, you started the conversation with that same line." Whoops. "So you actually started up the conversation, and we discussed our favorite drinks for a while. All the while you kept drinking drink after drink like you were trying to drown something out of your head with liquor. At some point a man appeared from the crowd and grabbed your arm. He said he was your ex and was getting really handsy with you."
My blood turns cold under my skin, goose flesh rising as I look down in my lap. I grasp the blanket tighter, I don't remember HIM appearing…
"You made that same expression last night," I look up at him, a look of concern lining his features. "I could tell something was off. He was being really rough with you and you were trying hard to fight him off. I got between the two of you and he backed down, running off to somewhere else in the bar. I asked you if you were ok, but you downed the rest of your drink and said you needed to leave. I didn't want to leave you alone because you seemed really inebriated, so I offered to take you home and you accepted. Well, that ended up being problematic, because the moment I got you in the taxi, you passed out. I ended up bringing you home with me, and I put you in my bed while I took the couch."
"That doesn't explain why I'm naked…" My voice is small, I feel even more embarrassed now, I made a lot of mistakes while drunk but they usually ended in irresponsible sex and a plan B pill the next day. Not a nice guy sitting at the end of the bed.
"You threw up on the floor in the living room, then claimed you felt dirty and threw off your dress. It turned out there was nothing under it, and you tossed it into the vomit pile. I didn't feel comfortable dressing you or touching you after that, so I led you to the bed and you fell onto it. After that I just wrapped you in the blanket."
I bury my head in my hands, I'm a fucking mistake.
"And the toenail polish thing?" I ask in my hands.
"Earlier in the night you were telling me something about how you just want someone to do your nails. And you said that you'd cook a whole ass meal for someone if it meant they'd do that one thing for you. A bit of a strange trade, but it seemed like a fun one."
"So I didn't necessarily ask you to do it, I mentioned I wanted it so you decided to do it? For a trade?" Drunk me has some weird ideas of what she wants, but it leaves me curious over this guy as well, what made him want to do this apparent drunk trade?
"You're right… I supposed I did it because you mentioned it, you didn't directly tell me. But… Yeah, the trade sounded nice. A homemade meal with someone sounds tempting, and I thought if I did the nails as you slept it could be a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect you to not remember last night and become startled. I suppose it is really weird." He lifts an arm and ruffles his hair, the long black locks flowing through his fingers. I look at his sleeve and a bit of nailpolish is on the white sleeve.
I chuckle and throw my legs over the side of the bed. "Yeah, it was definitely weird. Even if I remembered, that was a weird gesture. But, you finished your side of the trade, I should do mine. If I can borrow some of your clothes, that'd be great. And you may want to change yours, you made a mess on your sleeve."
He looks down at the stain and pouts a little, "I thought I didn't make a mess for once." Standing up he pulls it over his shoulders and tosses it into a waste bin on the other side of the room.
"Oh, wait…" I jump up, wrapping the blanket around myself as I run to the bin, pulling out the shirt. The fabric is soft and warm from having been on his body. "Why did you throw it away? You can get the stain out." I lift it up to him to show emphasis.
"It's ok, I can buy a new one. I don't know how to get the stain out, and I've already worn it once out." He brushes me off, standing up off the ottoman and walking over toward an open closet door at the right of the room. "Let me get you something to wear."
I pout a little, how weird, who just buys a new shirt when you can fix it? That seems like a waste on money. "I can wear this shirt." I call out to him, pulling the fabric over my head. It's a button up, so instead of putting my arms through the sleeves, I wrap them around my chest to turn it from a shirt to a dress. Since he's a good many inches taller than me, the length is comfortable, going past my butt.
He comes back out with clothes, but stops when he sees me. "Well, that works…" He still tosses me a pair of his boxers, and I pull them up. They don't show under the shirt dress, but it still feels rather comfortable to have bottoms on.
"So… breakfast? Do you have stuff for it?"
"Ohh… that's a good question…"
Looking into his fridge, this grown man's fridge, was an utter disappointment. He had nothing except protein drinks, 2 bananas, and water bottles. Which, come on, it's 2021, who still uses water bottles? Get a filter or a filtered water bottle… This is just ridiculous.
"I forgot that you need things…" he trails off, scratching the back off his head. I look at him, letting out a large sigh. I take a moment to look closer at him, examining his features closer. He has small, dark moles sprinkled on his face. One right on the right tip of his cupid's bow, one of his nose, one under his left eye and one on his right lower cheek. They're rather cute and give some nice contrast against his soft tanned skin. Speaking of his skin- it's flawless, it looks like he has no pores.
"What's your skin routine?" It comes out before I can stop myself.
"Huh? My skin routine?" He laughs, looking down at me confused.
He's really tall, even compared to me. I'm about 179cm, I can only assume he's over 190cm… easily over it…
"Yeah, sorry, your skin is so nice." I blink a few times, then look away quickly, suddenly feeling intimidated by his long eyelashes and brown eyes as they stare back at me softly. A man shouldn't look as pretty as he does, and the longer I stay here and look at him the more insecure I get.
What's gotten into me? I wake up and immediately think he's some foot-fetished-weirdo wanting to kill me, and now I'm in his kitchen blushing? Maybe I still have some alcohol in my system, this is just too bizarre of a situation.
"Since I can't cook for you, I think… I think I should get home. I have a roommate, and she's probably really concerned over where I am…" I back away from him and the fridge, hitting my back on the grey granite island behind me. Initially I was hoping to cook in here, his kitchen looks like one out of a cooking show with all shades of blacks and greys for the appliances. His whole penthouse apartment had the colour scheme; blues, greys, and blacks. Sleek and clean with the typical modern touch to it. I feel very out of place.
"Oh, yeah, sure, but…" He hesitates, gesturing for a room behind him, "oh, wait, let me get your clothes…" Rushing off, he disappears into the room. I rub my arms and look around a bit more, heading over to the open windows, identical to the ones in the bedroom. They overlook the entire city, the people down below running to and from, jumping in taxis and rushing through the busy streets. It feels weird to be so high up, to look down on people who are in the same position as me. Rushing to work, rushing in life, rushing everywhere and into anything.
I don't want to rush anymore, I have to remind myself of this.
A door opens behind me and I don't think much of it, assuming it's the guy returning with my clothes. I stay in my spot, too focused on the small people below. Watching them, observing them.
"Ha-Jun~ get up, we have an interview at 11am and Manager told me to come get-" A new voice booms through the house, causing me to whip around. I meet the surprised look of another man, this one also tall but with his hair dyed a soft blonde. "-you… who are you?"