Friend in Deed

She tossed her purse and broken sandals over the fence, heard them land on the grass. It was an easy lift to the wall. Her toes gripped the cool brick surface and she stepped in delicate balance over the wire mesh, then dropped to the spongy dew-laden ground. She pranced on tiptoes across the small lawn and up the three steps to reach a sliding glass door. She pulled at the handle, making sure it opened before she turned to give a thumbs-up to the red Pinto idling at the curb. The headlights blipped and the car moved away.

The housing complex was dark and silent, as befit the suburban dead of night. Angie slipped into the apartment and felt her slow, careful way to the bedroom. She crouched down to make sure it was Javi’s shoulder she touched. She breathed his name. When he grunted back, she whispered.

‘Mind if I sleep here tonight?’

Javi flung the sheet back over the two boys sprawled between him and his wife. He patted the mattress at his hip.

‘Climb in,’

In the pitch-black bedroom, Angie felt a sudden rush of color burn her cheeks.

‘No, gracias.’ She smiled. “I’ll just crash on the sofa.’

She crept back to the living room and stood looking out over the moonlit garden.

‘Here’s a sheet,’ said Javi behind her, making her jump. She turned to watch him drape it over the couch. When he straightened, she also saw that he was buck naked.

‘That’s okay, Javi, thanks. Get back to sleep.’ She felt the flush return to her face as she sat down and poked at a cushion.

‘You okay?’ Javi asked. ‘What’s going on?’ He reached to squeeze her shoulder.

‘I’m fine. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.’ She glanced back at him, saw his penis drooping before her and waved him off.

‘Sorry about this,’ she said and lay down.

‘No problem.’ Javi yawned and turned to leave. ‘See you in the morning.’

 

 

 333 words for   including  color (noun) 3: complexion tint: a : the tint characteristic of good health b : blush