Let Kelly down easy and investigate the apartment

You respond to Kelly's kisses, but keep it light, and pause when you have a chance. Smiling, you try and sound her out a bit.

"Mmm," you say, stroking her coppery hair. "You're a good kisser, Kelly. That look in your eyes just melts me down inside. But could we take things slower? I've just had a rather hard bounce in my personal life. It's been incredibly lucky for me landing a new job and finding an apartment with such bright, lovely women as you, Sarah, and Andi. I couldn't handle it if I went too far and messed things up again so soon. Let me get to know you -- all of you -- a little better before I put my foot in it. I promise you won't regret it."

Kelly's lip curls down. "Shit, John, it's me that..." She blinks a couple of times, like she wants to say something and can't get it out. She glances into space like she's remembering something. "Okay," she says. "I guess it's OK that way for now." She looks down, then flexes her arms and stretches. "Is that all your boxes?"

"That's all, folks."

"'Kay. Maybe I better get going. Just don't let... oh, never mind," Kelly says. She squeezes your hand. "Hey, let's go out for breakfast tomorrow. I'll give you the low-down on ol' Apartment 3-G. Gotta run, back later!" Summoning up her second wind, she dashes out the door, keys jingling in her hand.

You discover Kelly has run off with your keys and left hers. At least you still have the keys to the moving truck. You pick up Kelly's keys by their green shamrock tag and take them back toward her room, which is actually a sleeping loft above the living room. She must be a sound sleeper, if Sarah watches late movies so often. Not quite as private as having a door, either. You wonder why Kelly didn't trade in the loft and take the empty bedroom.

You drop Kelly's keys on her mattress. It's a cotton-stuffed futon, so at least it doesn't squeak. It seems to be crammed crosswise into the corner of the loft. Are those things really comfortable? You stretch out on the brightly striped bedspread with your head on the pillow. Not too bad. Kelly has taped some posters, mostly sports photos, to the ceiling, since her loft is short on wall space. You see Venus Williams whacking a ball and FloJo winning a race with her chest breaking the tape. There's also one of Greg Norman on his bicycle wearing tight spandex shorts. To the left, if you prop up your head a little, you can see through the loft railing to the living room couch.

Turning your head to the right, you see a heater vent. But inside the grating isn't just a boring metal duct. You can see through another vent down into Andi's bedroom. Through the vent, you see her legs sticking out from under a big, unruly pile of covers she's kicked half off. There's some contraption with straps and buckles tangled in the covers, too.

You think it strains coincidence that Kelly's pillow just happens to have such a view. Kelly, Kelly, Kelly... Hmmmm. Should be some interesting things to talk about at breakfast.

You hear a voice through the vent. Andi's not alone.