Fascinating Villains

{21} - Scrambled Eggs

While I put my coat away, I inquire, "Are you cold?"

I noticed, back at the convenience store, that Cheryl was not wearing any kind of jacket, yet we are in late November.

She flirtatiously sputters, "Why? Do you wanna warm me up..?"

I revolve to look at her and, as I had guessed, she is reeling toward me.

"With a sweater or a cup of tea, maybe."

I jokingly retort, hoping I can fend her off if she... Wraps her arms around my waist. She slides them tentatively across my uniform, gazing up into my eyes. Laughing, she unsteadily tells me:

"Do you, uh..? Let... Um, you're... Sexy. Funny and sexy... And... Sexy. A lot sexy..."

I react to her incoherence with patience, while I undo her hold on me, bringing her hands back to the sides of her body and stepping away.

"I know. Wanna talk about something else?"

"Like how much I wanna bang you or..?"

The young woman is snickering without any restraint and so hard that she nearly topples over. At least, she somehow finds the initiative to drop onto my couch, where she rests, sprawled upon it. I have not turned on the main lighting fixtures, only a lamp in the hallway adjacent to the room, to ascertain no one will pay attention to my apartment. Therefore, I heedfully tread a path in the obscurity to sit on the floor in front of her stomach, crossing my arms upon the seat.

"Are you okay with sleeping here?"

I have decided that ignoring her messy attempts at seduction is my best play if I want her to accept my help.

"With you..?" She sits up, scarcely balancing herself, and grips my right upper arm.

"On my couch," I affirm.

"No need to act so shy... Peanut... Look at you..." She promptly strokes my cheek with the back of her manicured hand.

"Cheryl, please, don't touch me..." I beg her, increasingly panicking.

"I bet ya taste like peanuts, too... Tasty... Hm!" She bites into her lower lip, clinging onto my shirt for support.

God, make this stop. This is... Too much. It's uncontrolled and excessive.

"Do you want a glass of water?" I anxiously utter.

Cheryl dives down, either losing her balance or... To kiss me..? Regardless, I swiftly scoop her into my arms, raising from the ground and avoiding the collision of our faces. I look down at her, standing over my couch. Her head is resting against my shoulder, she is apparently unconscious and strands of her long hair still move when she breathes. Abnormally aware of my fingers anchored to the side of her exposed knee and across her rib cage, I quickly set her down on my sofa once more. I carefully lie her down on her right side, then I build layers of cushions behind her back, lining the front of her body and on the floor.

I do not plan to stay awake until she sobers up, therefore I must ensure that she will not hurt herself by falling off my couch or choking on her vomit in the middle of the night. My security system will activate if she tries to explore and I do not have a landline, preventing her from calling anyone.

Before I am done with my cushion barriers, Cheryl stirs slightly. Luckily, she does not destroy my meticulous work, and I can put the last pillow down. I am circling the couch to leave her when I feel a weak pull around my right wrist. I dislodge my arm from her frail grip, still bothering to kneel at her side.

"Wait..." she murmurs. "I like the way you... Touch me, again..?"

"I don't like being touched," I candidly inform her.