Reaction at 2:16:00 AM

After I thanked him, Dorian sped off and I stood there by the curb until his car was only a figment of my memory.  The moon had decided to begin to roam around, illuminating everything that surrounded me, making my broken down world appear beautiful. A red Camry was hanging out of my driveway and instantly I prepared myself for questions. I planned on bypassing my roommate, Tracy and washing away the day’s hardness with the steam and rapid downpour of our walk in glass door shower. The door quietly clicked shut behind me. The sound was softer than the sound of my shoes. That’s why I, as quietly as I could, slipped each one off one at a time, gripping the doorknob for balance. 

My bedroom was on the first floor, to the left of the kitchen and to the right of the living area, which was code language for the room where Tracy liked to lick, suck, pull, twist, pinch, tease, kiss, nibble, caress, rub, stroke, and experiment when I was out. I generally stayed out of there, despite the flowery and tempting scents that always flowed from the candles she kept lit. Tracy was the kind of woman who lived for flowers and candles and quiet dinners with boisterous laughter. We rarely entertained groups of any kind in our home so we had the luxury of making it as beguiling and as nontraditional as we pleased. There were no parents in the picture to barge in and lecture either. 

I looked around, peeped in the living area and both the sofas were empty. There were four candles burning on the black side tables though. I speculated that maybe she could have just had them lit for reading purposes because Tracy was an avid reader, read two books a week sometimes, but the red Camry came back into mind. Looking straight ahead now, the kitchen lights were out, but the illumination from the moon would have been enough to sit in there and feed her guest(s) and sex her (them) on the table afterwards. Quickly, I ran a list of names through my head, names that have popped in here in the past few months to predict who was here. Red Camry. I knew it looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it with a face, body, or voice. Then I saw a red strapless bra adjacent to my bare feet. It was a very expensive bra, high quality, no doubt part of a designer set that cost half my share of the mortgage payment. Too frilly to be mine. Too posh to be Tracy’s.

I exhaled as I placed my hand on my room doorknob and twisted it as softly as I could. It made a small clicking sound, but it was barely audible if Tracy was upstairs in her own room.

“Denise.” Damn. A shiver rocked my body as I closed my eyes. The sweat and rain that tickled my skin earlier felt cold and dirty. “Is that you?”

I looked behind and around me. I didn’t see her, but I knew it was Tracy from her booming monotonous voice.

“Yeah.” I said, my voice meek and barely audible. 

I felt like I was confessing a deep, dark secret. I wasn’t quite sure where I was responding to until I heard her bare feet clomping down the hardwood floor. She was coming from the one place I hadn’t looked: the staircase. It was obvious now. There was a pair of perilous pointy black pumps thrown about, three stairs separating each one and the matching thong to go with the sleek red strapless bra was in the midst of it all. 

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