The Foster Girls #3: Elizabeth

Chapter 4: Rig

When I returned home from practice that day, I decided to return the cookie container to Elizabeth, possibly as a way to see her and spark her recognition of me. Why it was so important to me that she figure out who I was, I had no clue, but her lack of recognition was really getting to me. I knocked on her door and she answered after a few minutes.

"Hey," I smiled at her, the full wattage one that never failed me with a woman. "I wanted to return your container."

Without a word, she took it from my hands and shot out a curt, "Thanks."

And she closed the door in my face. For the third time.

What the everliving fuck?

The next morning, just as I was kicking out last night's redhead, Elizabeth's door opened, and her eyes widened until they were in danger of bugging out of her face. Again, she mumbled a "good morning" as she bolted down the hall to the stairwell. What the hell was her problem? Was she some moral, uptight prude? A nun in training? At that point, her attitude was pissing me off, so I decided to give her something to really react to the next morning.

I knew Elizabeth left for her run at 6:30 every morning, at least if the last three days were any indication. Sure enough, I heard her door open, and I opened mine. Elizabeth locked her door, turned around and came face to tits...and tits. "Thanks for a fun night, ladies. See you around."

The two blondes giggled a good-bye to me and walked down the hall. Elizabeth remained where she was, her mouth open as she watched them leave.

"Ya gotta love puck bunnies," I said to her, slouching against my door frame. "Always up for anything."

Her attention snapped back to me. "What bunnies?"

"Puck bunnies," I said slowly. "Have a good run. I'm going back to bed. Long night." With a wink at her, I shut the door in her face.

For once.