My new life: Moving In - Sex Stories

My new life: Moving In

... caused me to say something else. “Got any hot water?” I asked. “Shit! Did we use it all? Sorry about that, Sophie was in here for almost an hour.” “Oh yeah, tell her to put some clothes on for supper, It may be casual Friday, but not that casual.” “Will do, see you in a bit.” I’d withstood all the cold shower I could take. It’d done its job, and I was clean. I turned off the shower and stepped out to dry off. I looked at the clothes Clara had picked out for me. It was my typical casual wardrobe for this weather; Jeans and a T-shirt. I slipped on a pair of clean boxers and got dressed. I brushed my hair forward with my fingers. Good enough, I figured. I took some advil for my muscles out of the medicine cabinet. Advil alone wouldn't be enough but hopefully it’d help me get through the night. I stepped out of the bathroom and made my way towards the kitchen. I realized Abbie must be back when I saw the mountain of alcohol on the table. There was enough alcohol to supply an entire party, and it was just for the four of us. I saw that Clara now wore the clothes that I had brought back for her. She was wearing a pair of capris, and a light tan blouse that together accentuated her curves perfectly. Sophie, on the other hand, was now wearing a purple dress that didn't even make it halfway to her knees and had a neckline that plunged so far that it seemed I should be able to see her belly button. Abbie was still wearing the same shirt and jeans that she’d had on before. Seeing the ...

... trio of them. I was unsure how I had remained single and not asked any of them out before now. Clara broke away from the other two to come over and ask, “How was your shower?” “Cold and wet.” I said drily. “See I told you, Sophie. You used all the hot water.” Clara accused her friend. “And I told you that’s not possible since this apartment building has a water heater of, like, a hundred gallons!” Sophie protested. “Actually, Clara, it was you’re fault I had such a cold shower.” When she shot me a puzzled look. I motioned back to the hallway to talk privately, prompting a chorus of, ‘Oh’s from the peanut gallery of Sophie and Abbie. Something told me that now was the right moment. It was a gut instinct, granted my gut was also growling in hunger, so how was I supposed to know if it was right, but David had told me not to over think it. And I thought, no, felt that now would be the best time. I should ask her out now. When I saw the look of concern and worry on her face, I started to second guess myself, but I was going to do it now, or I would likely never do it. “Felix, I don’t get it, how is the cold shower my fault. I swallowed and cleared my throat, probably my two most common nervous tics that still plagued me. “Clara,” I began, “the water heater wasn't empty.” “But you said-,“ I raised a hand to gently interrupt her. “Please let me finish,” She nodded. “Thanks. Before I tell you why the cold shower is your fault, I want to ask you a question.” This was it. My heart was ...