*COMPLETED* (18+) MATURE
Wrong number...usually a person would delete the number, right? A mistaken text leads to blood money and danger. Chris Johnson, a gender fluid male, receives a text from a mystery guy who shares a card number. Aware that i...
By the time I get to Sam's place, it's pouring down cold rain. Great there were already twelve inches of snow. Now there is a mushy, load of white shit on the ground. I have no umbrella, so I take off my sweater and use it as one. I'm not messing up this wig or my makeup bag! I run up a flight of stairs to his apartment: 301. My hands bang on the door.
The cold wind blows my wig, causing clunks of hair to come undone from the top knot, throwing it all crazy over my head. I push the hair behind my ears, dropping my makeup bag in a puddle of water. Great....just great. The door opens. "About time! I'm drowning out here!!" I swoop my makeup bag from the ground and toss it on the welcome mat inside.
"Chris?" He says, stunned at my visit. I push my damp hair back, passing him and throwing my soaked sweater out on the porch; it makes a wet plopping sound when it hits the brick's foundation. I shut the door, feeling drips of water run down the bare part of my chest that the garment shows, squeezing my breasts. "You look so-"
He tries to compliment me, his eyes in a daze, but I cut him off. "I'm hiding out from that card guy...he found out where I live."
Sam slaps a hand to his forehead. "See! I told you, didn't I? You should've listened and stopped! Have you called the cops?"
"No..." I walk to a wall mirror in his clean dining room, wiping runny eyeliner from around dark brown eyes.
"Why not?" He crosses his toned arms and puts on a stern face.
"Cause I didn't." I avoid his eyes, looking around the uppity apartment instead. He was too clean, my place looked like a crackhouse and his like a nun's sanctuary. "I did see him, though. I could call," I inform. "Despite being a psycho, he's hot."
"Did you talk to him?!" Sam gives a harsh scoff.
"Yeah...but in a girl voice tho. He had no idea, so chill. Do you have an umbrella? I need to buy a new phone."
"Umm, yeah, I do." He sighs behind me.
"I need a shirt too."
Sam leaves to a hall on the left, going to his bedroom. I almost follow him, but I stop my feet after a few steps. That's not a good idea. I fix my makeup instead, using my hands to pat it; my hair was now wet and wavy, bushy too. I let it down from the knot; it flows past my shoulders. I kind of like the look; it has a model from the 80's type of vibe. Big puffy, blown-out glamorous hair, all I need is glitter to complete the look.
Sam comes back and hands me an over-sized graphic tee of Wonder Woman. He's taller than me, think Captain America and Black Widow. We have close to that kind of size difference. I'm not juicier than Nat, tho. Queen. "Cool, thanks." I put on the shirt; Sam grabs an umbrella hanging beside the door. "Keys?" As I smooth out the shirt, I head to the door and take the umbrella from him and grip the knob.
"You're going by yourself?" Concern drowns his voice.
"Yeah."
His shoulders tense. "What if you were followed?"
"I didn't see a car," I reply stubbornly.
"I'll come with you, just in case." He takes a coat from a side closet.
"You mean in case guys hit on me?" I tease. I look down at his hands as he separates what I realize are two black coats. He drapes one around me, which is not my size, it's baggy. I blush when I feel the warmth of his hands on my shoulders...dick be calm and carry on. I clear my throat to break a scolding heat building between us. "Thanks." Rain pounds the ceiling of the apartment while Sam nods and grins crookedly. I pull on the hood of the coat and zip up. His dark green eyes lock on my brown ones. The sensation of butterflies tingles my spine and lips, watering my mouth and forcing me to swallow. "Yeah, let's go."
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