Dear Bridget, I Want You(4)

Pointing to an area on the front of my skull, I said, “Here.”

My nipples hardened at the closeness of his body.

He rubbed his finger along the area. “There doesn’t seem to be a bump. I think you’ll live.”

We both sat on the floor, our backs against the tub.

I repeated, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, apparently.”

Realization hit.

“It’s you? You’re Simon? Calliope’s friend?”

“Yes. And believe me when I say I had no clue I was moving into your house. She refers to you as Bridge, not Bridget and never told me your last name, so I couldn’t even put two and two together. This is just as much a shock to me as it is to you.”

“Then how did you recognize me so fast? I wasn’t even facing you.”

“You were down on the ground with your buttocks in the air. I would recognize that arse anywhere.”

Utter embarrassment consumed me. “Oh, really…”

“Your derriere precedes you, luv.” He laughed. “Anyway, the door to the loo was open. I had come to introduce myself and make some tea. What were you doing on the ground?”

“I’m prone to fainting, particularly when I spend too much time in heated water. I was unconscious for probably a few minutes. When I came to, I was doing a yoga pose Calliope taught me to help regulate myself before standing.” A visual of what I must have looked like from the rear came to mind. He probably saw my asshole, too. “Oh my God. I’m mortified.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen your backside before.”

“Yes, but what else did you see? Everything happened so fast when I turned around.”

“Bridget, relax. Are you forgetting I see naked bodies all day long?”

“Yeah, well, not mine…ever again.”

“You need to learn to lock the bathroom door, although with your syncope tendency, maybe that’s not such a good idea.” He shook his head in disbelief. “God, you are a walking disaster, Bridget Valentine.” Simon held out his large hand. “Let’s get you up.”

After he helped me off the ground, I adjusted the towel around myself.

He pointed his thumb toward the door. “I’m gonna go make that tea. Fancy some?”

“Um…sure. Yeah. I’ll have some tea.”

Before he walked away, his eyes darted down to the pile of dirty clothes I had left on the ground before my bath.

“I see you’re at it again.”

“What?”

“Not changing your knickers every day. It’s Saturday. The ones you took off were Wednesday’s.”

Those damn underpants had come back to haunt me yet again.

“I don’t pay attention when I grab them from the drawer. I just put those on this morning.” Crossing my arms, I said, “You know what? I shouldn’t have to be explaining this in my own house!”

“Relax, Bridget. I’m just kidding you. Get some clean knickers on, whichever day you want, and join me in the kitchen for some tea.”

When he finally left me alone, it all seemed to sink in.

The sexy, blond, god of a doctor whom I’d masturbated to for weeks after the fish hook incident…was now my roommate.

Simon.

Simon says…commence freak out.





“I don’t have to marry you now, do I?” I set two cups of tea down on the kitchen table.

“Marry me? Why would you have to marry me?”

“Fuck if I know.” I pushed the hair off my face and sat down. I’d been meaning to get a haircut for the better part of a month, but never seemed to get around to it. Bridget sat across from me. “I thought maybe it was an American tradition or something. The last three women I saw naked twice seemed to think we were getting married.”

“Awww…poor baby. What a terrible problem to have. The women who put out for you think you’re such a Godsend that they want more of you.”

I smirked. “I never thought of it that way. I thought they were just a bit loony. But you’re right. It’s probably because I’m so blessed…you know…in the lower anatomy, that they want to anchor their loose chain.”

Bridget’s skin turned pink. I liked screwing with her. It was going to be fun living here. “I’m just messing with you, luv, relax. I like watching your cheeks change color when you’re embarrassed.” I winked. “Both cheeks.”

She shook her head. “I think we need to set some ground rules.”

I sipped my tea. “Alright. I like rules. Without them, breaking them isn’t nearly as much fun.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, then. Lay ‘em on me. What are the flat rules, Ms. V.?”