Chat her up

You don’t know if Sarah’s nympho-suppressing meds have worn off yet, and ideally you would wait a bit longer, but the experience with Rodney makes you want to waste no time. The last thing you need is for Sarah to get infatuated with some other guy whom you will have to run off.

You step through the bathroom and knock on the frame of the open door. “Hi. I’m back,” you explain, unnecessarily. “Is there anything else you need?”

Sarah turns and smiles at the sight of you. “Hi, Connor. That was fast. Where is Rodney?” She looks past you, expectantly.

“We checked out your old room, and there was nothing else there. He had some things to do. But I’m here now, if there’s anything you want me to do to you. I mean — anything I can do for you.” You feel your face grow warm at the Freudian slip.

If Sarah notices or is offended, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she just motions to the array of boxes and suitcases all over her room. “I’m just trying to unpack so I can get settled. What a mess! I don’t even have a place to sit down until I clear away all this stuff!”

“Well, if you need a place to rest, you are welcome to make use of my room,” you offer. “If we’re going to share a suite, we might as well be neighborly, right? In fact, why don’t you come over now and rest for a bit? You look like you could use it.”

Sarah looks at the clutter of boxes on her bed and says, “You know, that’s a great idea. Thanks! But just for a bit. I’ve got a lot to do if I’m going to have room on my bed to sleep tonight.”

A thought crosses your mind, and before you change your mind, you blurt out, “You can sleep in my bed!”

Sarah looks at you sharply, but with a sparkle in her eye. “That’s very forward of you, Connor! We only just met!”

“I mean, if you can’t clear away your stuff, you are welcome to use my bed. I can sleep on that futon. No sense going without sleep, is there?” You try to sound smooth, but you watch Sarah carefully, trying to determine if there are any signs of her alleged sluttiness taking hold.

“That’s very nice of you,” she says, walking into your room and throwing herself down on your bed. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, it just feels good to get off my feet!”

She kicks off her shoes and begins rubbing her feet. “You don’t mind me taking my shoes off in your room, do you?”

“Heck no,” you say. “After all, we’re suite mates and share a bathroom. We’re likely to see a lot more of each other than naked feet, right?”

You laugh, trying to make light of it, but you watch her reaction carefully. Sarah seems to be mulling over your words.

“Hmmmm.... How does that make you feel, knowing that I might see you in your skivvies? Or walk in on you as you are showering?” she asks.

“Well, it’s certainly a more pleasant alternative than what I’ve dealt with the past few days. The guy who just moved out of your room was a real piece of work. More than once I went into the bathroom, only to find him asleep on the toilet, with a half-eaten box of donuts at his feet.”

“Ew....” says Sarah, wrinkling her nose. “And what if I walked in on you? What embarrassing thing might I learn about you?”

You toy with a couple of possible responses.