Page 4 of Strip for Me

I'm going to have a long wait if he isn't in.

I smooth down my jeans and pull my cream coat closer around myself. It's bloody cold today, and I can feel my cheeks going red.

I feel way too much sickness in my throat as I walk up to the front door. How crazy was I to think I didn't need Liz here? What the hell am I going to say?

I try to think what Liz would do if she was here, I bet she would knock on the door loudly and just walk in if no one answered. If it was locked, she would try all the neighbours until she found someone with a spare key. I bet she could convince some random stranger to give her the key, as well.

I stop outside the massive, white door. It looms over me and makes me feel like running back into the car and never coming back.

I have to do this.

I take a deep breath and knock on the door a few times. The minutes before I hear a lock turning feel like the longest of my life.

The door is pulled open, and the first thing I see is a naked man’s chest.

Holy ducks, this guy is hot.

"Wow, you-you’re hot," I stutter out, and his laugh makes my eyes drift up from his chest. Did I really just call a stranger hot instead of saying hello?

The man has messy, brown hair and black glasses. He is wearing a black dressing gown that is split down the middle, so I can see his chest and his bare legs.

I think I woke him up.

"Not that I mind a gorgeous girl waking me up, but can I help you?" the man asks once he stops laughing. I force myself to close my mouth from gaping and answer him.

"I-I need to see Andre," I manage to get out. My god, I have seen hot guys before, but this one is something else. But, Andre was something else as well. I remember his toned chest and the tattoos that he had all over it.

"He isn't in, who are you?" the man asks as he crosses his arms and glares at me. I can't say I'm not intimated because I really, really am.

"My name is Ellie," I say.

"Well, Ellie, Andre didn't mention you. So, unless it's important, I think you should leave," he says and goes to shut the door.

"I'm pregnant!" I shout just as he shuts the door. The door is quickly pulled open, and the man stands there, watching me closely.

I don't move or say another word as his mouth opens and closes a few times.

He looks completely speechless as his eyes widen.

"It's Andre's?" he asks me, and I nod. The man stares at me for well over a minute and then steps back, holding the door open wider.

"You best come in then, Ellie."

“Would you like a drink?" the man asks as he closes the front door behind me. The room is wide for an entrance hall, with square-shaped wooden stairs and two double, wooden doors on each side. There is little character or personality in the room; brown walls and light wooden floors. The stairs have cream carpet, but that is all there is to see. There are piles of men's shoes in the corner by the door. There are dozens of them, and they look like have just been kicked over there. I want to ask if I should take my shoes off, but I decide against it. Andre could take one look at me in his house and kick me out, thinking I’m some kind of crazy one night stand that has managed to find his home. I can’t even say I’m not any of those things, who knew the second guy I ever slept with, I could manage to get pregnant from? That’s just my luck.

"Yes, I would. What's your name?" I ask the man, who smiles slightly at me as he runs his hands though his hair. The man is very tall, much taller than my five-seven height. I have to angle my head up a little to catch his brown eyes. How can Andre happen to live with someone just as hot as he is?

"Maybe we should leave the talk until Andre gets back. He only went to the store," he says.

"Holy ducks, that is not fair. You know my name and that I'm pregnant. Shouldn't I know yours?" I ask, and his lips twitch a little.

“‘Holy ducks’?” he asks with a small smile, a smile that shows off the dimples he has. My god, this man is hard to look away from, I’m sure he has been the star of a lot of women’s dreams. I’m sure he will star in a few of mine, too.

“Oh, you know how autocorrect on phones changes ‘fuck’ to ‘duck’?” I ask him because this is never going to make sense if he doesn’t know that. I’m a little relieved when he nods, and I continue.

“Well, it kept doing it every time I wrote ‘holy fucks’, and somewhere along the line I just started letting it say ‘holy ducks’. Then I started saying it out loud. It’s just an ongoing thing now,” I say and blush a little when I realize how crazy that sounds.

The man just opens and closes his mouth, he looks speechless again.

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