Chapter 1: Blush

From my makeshift bed on top of Naomi’s bedside drawer I can just barely see the screen of her laptop. She’s looking through facebook photos of Miranda again.

Eventually she snaps her laptop shut and reaches over to the lamp above me. As her arm swoops overhead, she offers me a quick glance. Her giant green eyes entrance me for a second and then the light goes off.

Soon, after my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can make out the slightest movement from under her blanket, accompanied by the unsteady rythm of her breathing. This time I’m sure of it, she’s fapping. I wasn’t sure if I had been dreaming it last night.

I listen to her breathing, the long intakes and breathy exhales, the occasional tiny gasps, probably unnoticeable if hadn’t been paying attention. I pull my blanket down and touch my erection. I picture her long, smooth fingers working in and out of her wet pussy. I pretend I’m there under the blanket, right between her legs. I picture her face, eyes closed in ecstasy up above me. Then I’m down by her feet, she lifts up her toes and I’m under her warm skin, the ball of her foot pushing me into to the bed. I look up from between her toes, she’s going to orgasm. My breath is short, I can feel myself about to cum...

SNAP.

The light comes on above me and I snatch my blanket up over my crotch in surprise. Naomi’s huge freckled face is staring at me in the light of the lamp, her hand frozen on the cord above me. Her green eyes are wide and her mouth is slightly open in surprise. Neither of us moves a muscle. I feel the cum dribble out of my now flaccid penis.

   The smell of sex is suddenly very strong around me, and I look up at her hand on the lamp cord. It’s shining wet with cum. She suddenly blushes profusely and quickly stands up, sucking on her fingers as she walks to the bathroom.

   As I hear the tap running, I finally let out my breath.

Chapter 2: Smaller

   It has been almost two weeks since Naomi took me to her apartment. We never talk. I don’t think she quite knows what to think of me. I feel too intimated to talk. She might be a little bit intimidated by me. It’s strange. I really don’t know. It seems like we are both comfortable in each other’s silence though. Once we just stared at each other for a really long time.

   On the first day that she left for work, I explored her room. It’s a pretty typical bedroom. Beige walls, white trim and carpeting. Her single-sized bed is against one wall, the window is above it and the bedside drawer and lamp are on the other side. There’s a sliding door closet, always closed, and a dresser. There’s a small desk with writing supplies, and shelf of books. Mostly fiction novels, pappy-looking romance and fantasy, some graphic novels and comics. There’s a poster of a female pop star on the wall. The door to the room is tight against the carpet, but if I try, I can just barely squeeze my way under.

   I’m restless I think.

   I assume Naomi doesn’t know that I can leave her room. I’ve been exploring her house in the daytime. On the second day I found the bathroom, which was the door nearest her room. It’s small, with fake marble tiled floor and a walk-in shower. There’s nothing interesting in the cupboards beneath the sink except Tampons and a few Cuetips.

   On the third day I wandered the hardwood hall, found the utility room with the washing machine and dryer and furnace and cleaning tools.

   On the third day at the end of the hall I found the living room. There’s a couch and an easy chair in front of a small flatscreen tv. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the room and standing lamps in the corners, and potted plants. They seem only a little dry. The large windows let in a lot of light, which is why I like the living room. Sometimes there’s a new fashion magazine, which is mildly interesting. Naomi doesn’t seem to read the paper, and the tv is only hooked up to a Wii, which she never plays, so I have no notion of the outside world. At one corner of the room is the door leading outside, but it has a plastic strip at ground level, probably to keep the cold out, and I can’t bypass it. I know she leaves her work pumps at the restaurant, but there’s a floor mat where I assume she takes off her converse when she gets home from work. I find myself thinking about them more and more.

   On the fourth day, the kitchen proved uninteresting.

   I quickly found the home smaller than I ever imagined it could feel at my size.