Not immediately

A moment passes as you freeze in place, your nude body pressed against the door frame, arms extended up and hands clenched with your robe and shoes in hand while you had been futilely banging against the entrance to your own apartment. With a breath, you relax and lower your arms, quickly tying your robe on and slipping into your shoes while the guys look on appreciatively.

The heels make your legs look great, but they also make the short walk down to the U-Haul a laborous one, and you fold your arms in front of you as you wait for them to open the latched door, looking at them expectantly.

"I've got a bad back." says Bill.

"Knee surgery." continues Sam.

Tom looks at you, grinning. "I don't mind if we take a breather. It was a long drive here and Philip said we'd be compensated based on how long it took.

You roll your eyes as you strut up to the latch, feeling the grime on the metal handle as you yank it open. Even with the heels you're only able to push the door up about half way, requiring you to awkwardly climb up and push it up yourself. The flimsy robe refuses to stay in place, riding above your ass when you go up, and then almost comes off completely as you slide down, the material catching on every edge. With a sigh, you retie it again under the guys' watchful gazes.

Tom comes over to help you pull the ramp out, and as you drop it to the ground it catches the sash on your robe, yanking it out entirely as you flash the guys yet again.

You spend another moment retying it as the guys stay glued in place until you're 'covered up' again, and they move into the truck. The dirt has accumulated on your hands and you try to wipe them off on your flimsy robe, which only dirties up the only garment you're wearing, doing nothing for your hands.

Resolving to wash up completely after this, you start to work on the unload.

As you grab a fairly heavy box (for you), you wonder why Philip brought these guys to help him move. Bill's taking the smallest box possible, and Tom is 'helping' Sam with a box the same size as yours. Even with you taking the heaviest load, they wait for you to get in front of them as you travel up the stairs, your grunts and heaves only heightening their enjoyment of the view they get of your bare ass and legs on the steps.

As soon as you're off the stairs, however, they rush ahead of you, bumping you and stealing glances back at you as your struggles leave you unable to adjust your robe, the gap of skin widening as you walk a box into your apartment. You drop the box, retie your sash, and continue.

This cycle repeats itself for each load you make; no matter how separated the guys get or how small a load they take, they're always behind you on the stairs, always in front of you to the house, and never taking breaks at different times then you. Bill seems to be the clumsiest, 'accidentally' rubbing himself behind you in close corners or in the truck. Sam's constantly dropping things and getting you to pick them up, especially when you're wanting to retie your constantly opening robe.

But at least they're not Tom; the one guy who should've been able to hold his own (aside from Philip, who's busy reorganizing your room). After the second load, you sit down on a box to take a breather, but he yanks you to your feet.

"Stay on it, girly." He smacks your ass, earning a laugh and high-fives from his mates, a cycle he repeats whenever you try to rest for even a moment, your tired body and aching legs screaming for rest.

On your fifth trip up, he 'helps' you carry a rocking chair up (that you didn't really need help with), and his erratic movements make taking it up much harder then it needed to be, one of the chair's points catching your sash and yanking it out, your robe coming open and exposing your entire front to him until you labor it into your room.

Still, Philip's worldly possessions are dwindled down to near nothing, as you come to the truck, seeing just a bed frame, a mattress and box spring, and a dresser.

"I thought Philip said he didn't have a mattress...." you frown.

"This is just stuff we're giving away. It's not his." replies Tom.

As Bill takes the last of the drawers up, you resolve to let Tom and Sam take the dresser up, to hell with the bad knee.

And, at first, they do. They insist on you going ahead to make sure there's no traffic on the stairwell, and while you do, for some reason even with his bad knee Sam somehow ends up on the bottom.