Roommate, Interrupted (Audio Script)

Stories

Where is it?

It was here yesterday…

Why is it whenever you need something…?

Right, okay.

Surely this recipe doesn’t need garam masala, right?

I can just substitute it with something else.

Aaaand I can’t. Okay, I’ll just… use chilli flakes or something

But I promised you tandoori salmon, and I want it to be as authentic as possible.

I could just ask you, but you’ll just tell me to look harder.

Even though you do have a tendency not to put the spices back in the spice rack.

And you love spicy food.

So, unless the spice rack fairy took off with it, it can’t be anyone else.

I make my way from the kitchen, down the corridor of our apartment, to your bedroom so I can just ask you.

I’m just outside your door and lift my fist to knock, and I stop in my tracks.

Are you…?

Oh my god, you are. Yep, you’re definitely masturbating. Okay, I’ll come back later…

I should head back to the kitchen.

Instead, find myself leaning closer to your door, listening to your moans as you touch yourself.

I should leave. Get back to making dinner.

Give you some privacy.

And yet…I can’t move away.

The sounds you’re making are just…

You sound so good.

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I feel…I don’t know…

Voyeuristic?

I mean, I’m listening to you masturbate and… there’s never been anything remotely sexual between us, we’re friends, roommates… but… this… this is new.

I find myself wondering what it would be like if I was on the other side of this door.

What it would be like if… I was the one… who was making you sound like that.

I don’t know if you could even think of me like that, because in so many ways, we couldn’t be more opposite.

Your idea of a good time is nudist beaches and climax retreats.

I’m just… more private.

I don’t even really date. But I just haven’t met anyone I really like since moving here.

I do like you, and love hanging out. It’s been great living together. You bring out my outgoing side, the one I’ve not seen in a long time.

Even though we’re so different, I can actually be myself around you.

Fuck…

I lean in closer, against the doorframe.

God, I suddenly want to be in there so badly with you.

A wave of heat pulses between my legs, and I squeeze my thighs together.

All it took was hearing you and my clit’s throbbing.

I can’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like to taste you…

To feel your soft body against mine…to run my tongue over your chest when they poke through your t-shirt.

My hands instinctively move over my body. First to caress my breasts, feeling my chest hardening under my shirt.

Down my waist…a little lower.

I slip my fingers under the waistband of my joggers, of my underwear…

Lower…reaching between my legs to find my clit.

I slowly massage my clit as I listen to you touching yourself, honing in on your moans.

It feels so wrong…it is wrong.

Listening to you like this…stroking my clit in the middle of our apartment.

You not knowing I’m just on the other side of the door?

But at the same time, it feels…right.

Sweet pleasure pools between my legs, permeating through my body.

Imagining my fingers are yours.

I relax against the doorframe, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

Trying to keep quiet.

My hips buck against my fingers, wetness gathering between my legs as I massage my clit a little faster.

My pleasure working in tandem with yours.

Yes… Yes…

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

““Hello?”

Oh my god, what am I doing!?

I scramble to right my clothes quietly, rushing to look like I wasn’t….

“Hello?”

I don’t know what to do. If I rush off now, she’ll hear me.

She’ll definitely hear me and catch me with my hand down my underwear at her door.

What do I say to that?

That she sounded so good, and I just couldn’t resist temptation?

I mean, that’s true, but that doesn’t look good!

Okay, think, think…

“Uh… hey!

I was just getting dinner started, and I can’t find the garam masala.

Have you seen it?”

“You can come in!”

I open the door, wondering what the hell I’m going to see.

You’ve never been one for subtlety, and you’re definitely a free spirit and very comfortable in your own skin.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you naked or half-dressed.

Like when you’ve gotten out of the shower, or getting breakfast in the mornings.

And now, you’re right there, under your duvet, and very obviously naked underneath.

You look exactly how you do when you’ve had a workout, or when you bring someone back after a night on the town.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh… I’m just getting dinner ready.

Have you seen the garam masala?

I can’t find it anywhere.

”

A puzzled look crosses your face, and my stomach flutters.

That way your eyebrows knit together, and your lips purse looks so cute.

Even if this is…well, a little awkward.

“Um…no, I haven’t seen it.

Why?

”

“Just, you were the last person to use it, and I know you like spicy food…I was going to make tandoori salmon tonight. To surprise you.

”

“Oh. That was nice of you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just use something else. Okay, see you later.

”

“Hey, wait!”

I turn around, and you sit up on your knees in bed, pulling the thin bedsheet up to cover your chest,

Yep, there is no question about what you were doing.

The question really is, why do you have to look so hot doing it?

Especially how your hair cascades down your shoulders and frames your face, complimenting the ‘just fucked’ flush in your cheeks.

I make a concerted effort to keep my eyes on yours, and not on the way the bedsheet drapes along your perfect, full breasts.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Your eyes wander down my body and back up.

“Like what you see?”

Shit. Is it that obvious? Well, I am standing here, red as a tomato, and can barely string two words together in front of one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.

What could possibly give me away?

“I - um…”

“I heard you, you know.”

Oh God.

“You heard me?”

“Of course I heard you!

I admit it was…hot…listening to you open up like that.

You’re so reserved when it comes to sex.

”

“You make me sound like a nun.”

“You are a little innocent.”

“I’m not that innocent!”

You flash me a sceptical look that, if put into words, only means one thing:

Bless your heart.

I’m not that innocent.