Stripped Bare

Cathy pivots her question as the voices draw closer, "...me what you find out. If you find anything cool stop by my room later, okay?" She fixes her clothes and blows me a kiss as I try to shove down my member into a less apparent bulge.

"Will do," I say, returning a wink as we both depart, pretending as if nothing of merit had happened between us. Now I have even more of a reason to figure out what's going on.

"Well, let me take a look at the bed and I'll see if it can fix it," said a gruff Indian voice as two sets of feet tramped up the stairs.

"It's no big deal," said Jing Ying, a kind older lady from 202 who kind of looked like the lead actress from Everything Everywhere All At Once (but I'm not around enough asian people to know if that is racist or not). As she came into view, Ram Patel, a grizzled looking retiree, followed right behind her.

"I insist," he said. "It's the least I could do after all you've done for me." He nodded to me with his chiseled chin as they approached.

Jing stopped on the stair well and squeezed Ram's cheek affectionately, something that she had done whenever I'd helped with things (like moving her in or helping with her plants). Ram didn't seem the touchy type but he accepted her affection. She replied, "If you insist. Here are the keys. Do you mind if I talk with young Jasper a moment?"

"Not at all. I'll see you there." He nodded again, this time to us both and Ram stomped up the stairs.

"Hi Mrs. Jing," I greeted her. "What's up?"

"It's just Ms. Jing, but you can call me Ying." She paused a moment and gave me an irresistible smile. "My daughter is transferring to your Uni and will be living with me here from now on. She'll be arriving late tonight, but I was wondering if you would be willing to help her get settled in at school? If you share any classes I'm sure she would also appreciate help on the homework. I know your mom said you are in the sciences as well. My daughter is really sweet, but not very assertive and I want to make sure she is on the right foot, moving here. I don't make much, but I promise I will make it worthwhile somehow."

I listen patiently to her plea and respond. "Jing, you don't owe me anything. I would be glad to help. I'm bored enough here anyways, so I'm sure it will be a pleasure to have another person my age in the building."

"You're such a sweetie." She pinched my cheek, just like Ram's. "Thank you. Also, you don't mind if I give her your number, do you?"

"No, not at all. It's..."

She squeezes my hand. "I got it from your mom. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you. Well..." she pats my hand and starts to trudge onward, "I won't impose on you anymore."

I give her a small knowing smirk and she reads me like a book. She returns my grin, "Jasper, just because I'm sweet doesn't mean I don't get what I want. Take Ram for instance, up there fixing my bed." She winks and heads on her way.

I bob my head as I head down towards the basement. Who would have thought that Ms. Ying could be so crafty and so polite at the same time?

I don't run into anyone else as I head down the multiple flights of stairs to the basement. Most would expect a laundry room to be an ascetic room lit above by blueish office lights. Mom usually does my laundry, cause I guess I'm still a man-child, so I don't usually spend much time here. I haven't really examined the space, but now I see why its so odd. The light is tinted red for some reason and just about everything in here is somewhat sticky. There are rows of washers and dryers along the edge across the stairwell. Benches, baskets, detergent and the like sit opposite. On either side of the rectangular room are doors. One is to Igor's maintenance room, which we are not allowed to enter and the other leads to who knows where. Like the room upstairs, it's been locked up tight forever, but with just one lock. I assume since there is no light on in the maintenance closet and it's closed, that Igor is out. I examine the door on the other side, stepping in a puddle as I do. It's a rather old door made of decaying wood. You could honestly break the door easier than the lock. There were several holes in the door, so I peered through. Not much light bled through, but I could tell it was a rather large unused space. Just enough light bled through for me to make out a railing in the center of the room leading down. I guess the building must have a basement. I stepped backwards and almost slipped catching myself on the wet surface of the washer.

This must be the spot that Cathy mentioned. I crouched down and touched the surface. It wasn't wet like water. The surface came off a tiny bit tacky, and strings of liquid pulled away from the puddle as I lifted my hand to smell. It didn't smell of detergent, but instead a pungent, sweaty, human smell. My nearest approximation being pre-cum or cervical mucus. Gross. I found a spare towel and wiped my hands off on it. I wondered where it came from. Not that I could determine anything of sense in this building.

A dryer buzzed as it's cycle came to an end on the other side of the room. None of the washers were running, so it was unlikely they were the cause. However, I sidled around to examine the corner of the room and see if there was a leak from the machine or any down the row. I shined my phone light on the intakes and saw nothing shiny. I moved the machine out until the tubes that fed it could stretch no more and just examined the puddle on the floor. I just sort of stared in amazement. It looked as if it came out of the ground. Just oozing up into the surface, maybe related to the railing in the other room. Food for thought.

"What are you doing?" A compensating voice rang from the stairwell behind me.

I turn to see Franklin, the resident nerd. He's a few years out of college and a runner up for "most shut-in" if not for his neighbor in 104, who I only see leave his apartment to get food. Franklin was wearing his baggiest pants and a oversized shirt that read Ranma 1/2 (I think he is into manga).

"I'm..." I pause, calculating an adequate response. "...trying to find out where this puddle comes from."

"Good luck with that," he responded with a voice that didn't know which intonation to use, except that the lower register he was talking at was certainly the wrong choice. He started retrieving his clothes from the dryer. "Igor mops it up once a day, but when he is out for any length of time the whole floor needs to be cleaned."

"So you don't think its the machines?" I ask, pushing the washer back.

"Nah, must be the ground water or something seeping up. These old buildings were made different you know?" He shoveled more clothes into his basket.

"Hmm..." I mulled it over. "That's one theory. Maybe its just this building that's different..." I stepped over to him and leaned on a dryer. "You ever see anything weird in this building, Franklin?"

He paused for a moment, pondering his next words. He looked as if he was about to speak and then he stopped himself short. "I got to go." He slammed the dryer shut and run upstairs with his haul.

It was like he knew something, but didn't want to speak. He was afraid of telling me something, but why be afraid of me. I glanced down and noticed a pink thong. "Woah..." Where did he get that?

I ran up after him. "Franklin!" I called.