Title: The House-Sitter
Author: Diana
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We all can dream and this is just a smidge of my fictional world.
Feedback: Yes please!
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Setting.........
It's late at night and Tracey is having a hard time getting to sleep knowing
that she and Orlando are under the same roof.
Watching TV, reading, a few laps in the pool, listening to her favorite CD while
taking a bubble bath didn't even make a dent in the anxiety Tracey was feeling.
She continued to aimlessly walk around her spacious room trying to think of a
plausible excuse to go up and check in on Orlando, but nothing came to mind plus
she'd already told him that if he needed anything to just look for her.
Tracey glanced over at the clock on
her night stand and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Nine hours! He's been asleep for nine hours! Jesus, I told him to go rest not
go into hibernation!", she whined, throwing her arms up. "What I should have
said was...Hey Orlando, you look like you could use a nice massage...... at
least that way, even if he fell asleep I would've been able to get my hands all
over that yummy, hard body but NOOOO! I had to turn into little Miss Goody Two
Shoes and tell him to run along and take a nap! UGHHHH!"
Angered by what she considered a missed opportunity, Tracey stormed off to take
a cold shower. When she was done she slipped into a pair of panties and a
t-shirt which was just long enough to cover them up then headed to the kitchen
to make herself a cup of tea to help calm her nerves. She knew she had to get
some sleep some how, if only a little because facing Orlando in the morning with
bags under her eyes just wouldn't do.
Tracey didn't bother turning any lights on because she could easily find her way
around the mansion even blind-folded if she had to, but as she stepped through
the kitchen's doorway she ran right into Orlando as he was walking out.
She screamed and jumped back, reaching for the lights to switch them on then
sighed with relief when she saw who it was.
"Orlando! What are you doing lurking around in the dark!", she demanded to know,
gripping her chest from the fright.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you but I wasn't lurking. I was thirsty, see? .",
he stated holding up a bottle of water while trying to avert his eyes from her
bare thighs while she tried not to stare at his bare chest. "I didn't turn on
the lights because I couldn't find the switch."
"Oh. Well here they are!", she smiled, gesturing towards the wall like Vanna
White hoping that didn't come out as lame as she sensed it did.
"Um....thanks.", he answered awkwardly. "I guess I'll go and.......unpack my
stuff before it gets too wrinkled....or......whatever."
"Okay.", Tracey shrugged, while trying to think of something she could say to
stop him from leaving. She couldn't offer him anything to drink, he already had
that and if he'd wanted something to eat he would've gotten that too since the
fridge was fully stocked.
"Orlando?", she called out with a touch of urgency in her voice. "Remember if
you need anything....anything at all, my room's down that way...", she pointed,
"three doors to the right."
"I'll remember.", he smiled then continued on his way.
Crestfallen, Tracey turned and went back into the kitchen, chiding herself for
having sounded so desperate. "Why didn't you just flip up your shirt and flash
the guy huh?", she mumbled taking out a cup and saucer from one of the
cupboards.
After she prepared her tea, Tracey turned off the light and headed back to her
room holding the hot drink in one hand while she kept the other one
out-stretched just in case Orlando happened to be lurking around looking for
light switches again. The last thing she needed was to spill her tea, burn the
actor and get on his bad side but her short trip was uneventful and once she got
to her room she dimmed the lights and curled up in an overstuffed chair.
Closing her eyes she smiled and in her head re-lived the seconds her body had
made contact with Orlando's, never to know that he had been doing the very same
thing in that instant.
With a mischievous giggle she started to picture them making out on the counter
and then took a sip of her tea. Tracey's eyes immediately shot open as she
carefully placed the cup and saucer on the small table next to her before
shooting out of the chair to jump around frantically as she fanned her scorched
tongue with her hands.
She ran into the bathroom and stuck her tongue out under the cool running water, sighing with relief when most of the pain subsided.
Shutting off the faucet she checked
her tongue in the mirror and decided that if the cool water felt good then some
ice would feel even better. When Tracey opened the door to her room to get some,
she was shocked to see Orlando standing there with his fist raised as if he were
just about to knock.
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