Silent Weeks

Her eyes moved from my left to right cheek, as she lightly stroked. Wait. No. She was feeling. She used her palm and fingers across my chin and neck, specifically moving against the grain of my whiskers.

The realization hit me that, as far as I knew, the only time she ever saw me was when I had four days of growth. I shaved once a week, on Sundays, so she's never seen me relatively clean-shaven before. She was inspecting this new me. But why physically?

I'm not going to try to guess how much time had passed, but she lowered her hand, then turned around and went through the door.

A small gasp resumed my respiration, and after taking a few seconds to gather my thoughts, I followed. She was sitting in her normal seat, next to mine.

Jeans. Damn. But tight jeans, so, nice.

Periodically, in my peripheral vision, I caught her staring at me for a few seconds, and this time, it was not her staring at me staring at her.

I had actually made a point to not stare at her. On some level, I was scared to. I didn't want to risk messing something up, even though I had no idea how that would even happen.

~

Tuesday and Wednesday took forever to pass, and on Thursday, I found her sitting in the seat behind me. I was unusually aware of myself hanging my jacket on that back of the seat, and resting my bag against the back leg. I felt almost ridiculous performing the actions, as if I were pretending to be a spy inconspicuously meeting a contact.

Getting another pair of panties would be par for the course, but she did kind of up the ante a little with that skin on skin contact.

At the end of class, I didn't move. I just stared blankly at my open textbook, waiting for her to pass by and leave the room, so I could check my bag and pockets for any new messages.

I froze at the quiet sound of her getting up from her seat, and while her walking by was fully expected, my eyes widened as her short fingernails gently scratched through my somewhat longer whiskers for an all too brief couple of seconds.

Okay. The whisker growth is clearly something important.

Once she was out of the room, I opened my bag. Nothing new in there. Alright. Might still be something in a jacket pocket.

I packed my supplies in the bag, stood up, and put on my jacket. On my way up the aisle, I put my hands in my pockets, like a completely normal person not checking for a hot girl's panties.

I wrapped my fingers around the rolled up cloth that had been surreptitiously left there, and held it securely, as if it was the most important message I'd ever received, and if I lost it before I had a chance to read it, the rest of my life would be nothing but regret.

Too overdramatic?

At the beginning of the next class, of that day, I subtly transferred them into my bag and buried them deep, until I got back home.

~

I took them out of the bag, but I didn't want to unroll them, yet. I put them to my nose, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply.

No human scent.

I breathed them in, once more, to make sure, as they had taken on some of the smell of the contents of my bag, but still nothing suggesting they had been worn.

So this was a new day. Replaying past weeks in my head, I confirmed that she'd already used Wednesday and Thursday, and I was not aware of any rescheduled classes, so I was not sure where this was going.

I unrolled the panties and spread them out to read.

"Sunday"

Sunday? That was not a class day at all. But if my whisker growth is relevant, then it is the day I shave.

Is she telling me... she's, going to shave her....?

I tried to think of a reason why that would definitely NOT be what she's trying to say, but I couldn't. It seemed close enough to feasible, but I still knew better than to make any assumptions, so I forced myself to not think about it further. Mostly successfully.

~

On Friday evening, I was on my may to the movie theater. In a residential section of the trek, there was an alley that cut through the block. There were people's back yards on both sides of me, and no sidewalk, so I had to walk on the side of the actual road, which was not really a big deal, since there was very little traffic, anyway.

I thought I heard a car coming up behind me, so I glanced back to check. As a pedestrian, I was technically walking on the wrong side of the road, so I shifted to the far edge. There was plenty of room, regardless, but I wanted to be courteous.

I was expecting it to pass, but as it reached my side, it slowed to match my speed. I guessed someone wanted to talk to me. I hoped I wasn't offending anyone by being a stranger walking down the alley.

I stopped, and the car rolled just enough more to put the passenger window right in line with me, and then it stopped. I waited a moment, half expecting the window to come down, but it didn't, so I bent over to look in at the driver.

It was her, facing forward, and about two seconds later, she pressed a button on her door arm, popping the locks up.

I waited a few more seconds, to see if she was going to look at me, or make any kind of gesture, but she remained still, with one hand on the door arm, and the other hand on the wheel.

It was probably a safe assumption that she wanted me to get in, so I did. I eased into the seat, shut the door, and said nothing. Just faced forward. The doors locked, and we were off.

My thoughts cycled between wondering how and why she found me, and thinking of a contingency plan, in case I missed the movie. It was scheduled to start in about 20 minutes, so, if whatever she was planning to do didn't happen quickly, then I was going to miss my showing.

I took a side-eyed look at her legs. Skirt. Nice.

Before this weeks-long series of events, I'd never seen her wear skirts, so I wondered if she just started recently, or if she just hadn't worn them to class. Either way, I was glad that she started.

Another pleasant surprise was that she pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater. Wait, how did she...? I immediately started mentally replaying all instances in the past week related to me wanting to see the movie.

First learned about it outside of the classroom door. Told those students I wanted to see it. Then the professor showed up. And then she walked by- that was it! She would have been right behind me when I told them.

So she knew where I would be, and had a time frame for when, but what about her finding me on the road? Did she find out where I lived, and deduce the path I would take? Or was she staking out the house, followed me, and just waited for an opportune time to catch me?

She parked, turned off the engine, and got out of the car, myself only a second behind, as I was following her lead. We both started toward the theater, but she paused at the rear corner of the car and waited. I rounded my rear corner, and then she resumed at my side.

The line was not too long. She stayed pretty much right at my side, and when we were third, she dug into her inside jacket pocket and pulled out some cash. After peeling off the cost of a single ticket, she held it out to me, between two fingers of one hand, and put the rest back into her pocket with the other.

Apparently, I was meant to buy the tickets, so I took the money and combined it with my own. As I stepped up to the register, she stayed back a bit, clearly indicating who would be conducting the business. I made the transaction, and then gave her one of the tickets.

I went back to following her lead, expecting to go ahead and enter, but she detoured to the bathroom, which was probably a good idea.

I relieved myself, washed my hands, and left. Not seeing her outside the door, I leaned against the wall to wait, but it was not a long wait.

She came out of the bathroom and found me. She looked me in the eyes, which I noted was only the third time she'd ever done so, which was also cut short, as we both made our way into the theater to find an unoccupied pair of seats.

There was a fair number of people at that showing, so it took a minute for our eyes to adjust and scan the area. I eventually found two seats and consciously resisted the natural urge to speak, choosing instead to just point. It sufficed, so we both navigated through the choppy sea of patrons until we were secured in our respective seats.

I wondered if she had done anything extracurricular in the bathroom. I hadn't felt anything being put into my pockets, and I didn't want to obviously check by putting my hands in them, so I adjusted my sitting position as a pretext for pressing my arms against the outside of my pockets, to feel for any unusual lumpiness. Nothing out of the ordinary.

My attention went to the movie, once it started. A good action movie with comedic elements. Neither of us being terribly emotive to begin with, we certainly were not adding to the raucous audience responses, but I think one or two of my stolen glances caught her smiling.

I periodically wondered if she would do anything, like nudge me, grab my arm, or, dare I say it, hold my hand, but we both just enjoyed the movie. After it was over, we made another bathroom stop before leaving.

It was dark out, by then. I forgot where we parked, so I followed her lead, again. As we left the lot, I wondered what would happen next. Would she drop me where she found me, or would she go to my house?

Turned out that, one way or another, she knew where I lived. She unlocked the car doors, and remained still, in the same position as when she picked me up. Slightly disappointed, but not all too surprised, I shut the door and watched her drive away.

As I entered my apartment, I wondered if that qualified as a first date. It was a passing thought, The "dating" concept was not really of any great importance to me, but I had fun just the same.

Once inside, I saw the Sunday panties where I left them on the coffee table. After the Friday night surprise, and her knowing where I lived, a whole host of new possible outcomes presented themselves for me to overthink all night and into the wee hours of the morning.

Out of respect for her, I hadn't fapped since the first time I saw her in the skirt. I lost count of the weeks, so my imagination was trying to go to some... challenging places. Everything was fine, tho.

~

I spent Saturday figuratively looking over my shoulder. Even peeked out the window, more than a few times, to see if her car was out there, but it turned out to be just a normal, uneventful Saturday.

~

But then Sunday rolled around, and oh boy, talk about anxious. Well, I mean, I wasn't pacing the floor, but I couldn't focus on anything for long. I went about my normal day, but in a near constant state of waiting for something to happen.

Then something happened.

The doorbell rang, and it just about startled the crap out of me. That may have been the second time I'd heard my own doorbell since I moved in, and the first time was me testing it to make sure it worked.

I froze for a few seconds, and once my nerves settled enough, I walked to the door, and opened it. There she was.

Jeans. ... And, presumedly, no panties. But I decided to not think about that.

She looked me directly in the eyes, and there was a hint of a smile on her face. I'm pretty sure that was her saying hello. She just stood there with her hands in her jacket pockets and waited, silently.

I almost became entranced. Looking her directly in the eyes for more than 1 second was a treat, and I wanted to soak in as much of it as I could, but I quickly became aware of the increasing awkwardness. I caught myself before opening my mouth to speak. Instead I stepped back and held the door open for her.

Eyes forward, she crossed my threshold. Well... I guess, technically, my land lord's threshold, but the point was she had entered the place that I called home. There was an intimacy to it. A certain vulnerability. She was seeing more of me via how I chose to maintain my surroundings.

I shut the door and simply observed. This was a whole new stage.

She casually walked around, looking at everything, as if browsing in a shop. I followed, but not closely. In the living room, she thumbed through my meager collection of DVDs. In the bathroom, she inspected the items on my shelf and even opened the squeaky medicine cabinet to peak in.

A baser part of me cringed slightly at the nosiness, but I actually appreciated her boldness and interest. Perhaps, if there was something I did not want her to see, then she would respect any attempts I might make to stop her, but I had no reason, nor desire, to test that hypothesis.

Perpendicular to the bathroom doorway, the open bedroom doorway was next. The room was a touch on the small side, which was, as previously mentioned, not at all helped by the queen-sized bed. I had always thought a single would have been better, but recently...?

Anyway, oddly enough, it had a nicely sized walk-in closet to the left. I did not have all that many clothes, but it was pretty much the only storage space.

She shifted a few of my hanging shirts, to see the fronts and backs, and she even sniffed one. Her expression still had not changed.

The kitchen area was directly across from the bedroom doorway. It featured a gas stove-top oven, a single sink, and a refrigerator that could probably protect you, in the event of a nuclear blast... but then suffocate you to death because you couldn't get back out of it by yourself.

She carefully inspected the contents of the fridge, and then moved on to the cabinets and drawers. To my surprise, she took out my 10' wok and set it on the stove.

Was she planning on cooking something?

She pulled the electronic timer/clock refrigerator magnet from the fridge door, and stared at it a moment. It beeped with every button she pressed, and then she placed it back on the door.

After that, she just casually walked back to the front door of the house, opened it, and left. I would have followed her out, but she shut the door behind herself, so, instead, I looked out the window and watched her get in her car and drive away.

I went back to the kitchen to check the timer\clock. Apparently, something was going to happen in slightly less than two and a half hours, and I predicted something involving food.

I'm not sure how much of it was wanting to give a good presentation, and how much was me just needing something to put my heightened level of energy into, but I did a lot of tidying up during the course of that countdown. Not that I was messy, but it definitely hadn't been that clean since I first moved in.

Sitting on the sofa, staring at the numbers change, I contemplated just waiting there for the remaining 12 minutes, but then I heard the driveway gravel crunching under tires. I almost stopped the timer, but then I realized that she might not want that, so I just hurried to stick it back onto the fridge and then preemptively opened the front door.

I watched her get out of her car, carrying a half-filled plastic grocery bag. To my delight, she had changed clothes.

Another pleated skirt.

With presumedly no panties.

I indulged a mental groan of torture as I held the door open and stood aside to let her pass. She glanced at me with that hint of a smile, which seemed to be a thank you, this time.

On her way to the kitchen, her eyes scanned the area, probably noticing the tidying that had transpired during her absence. She set her grocery bag on the sofa just long enough to take off her jacket before carrying the bag the rest of the way into the kitchen.

She was wearing a loose tank top over what seemed to be a short tube top, and I was loving it.

Once she started pulling food out of her bag, I became overwhelmed with a sense of uselessness. I mean, I did cook for myself every day, but this was her show, and I didn't know what all needed to be done, or if she even wanted me to do anything.

She seemed to be handling things well enough on her own, so I decided to just stay out of the way. I wanted to watch, but I also didn't want to hover, so I did other things, only occasionally checking on her progress.

Sitting on the couch, I was lost in thought until I heard some familiar done-cooking sounds. I stood up and turned around to see what I might need to do.

She moved from the kitchen to the DVD collection, briefly thumbed through it again, and then slid one out from the shelf. On her way back to the kitchen, she handed the case to me.

I had received my mission orders, so I went about preparing the movie to be watched. I didn't watch DVDs very often, so I had to remind myself of the little intricacies of how to use that particular plater and its remote control, but I eventually got it sorted and turned in time to see her carrying two plates of food to the coffee table.

She went back for the drinks, and I experienced a brief dilemma about which side of the sofa I should take. The right side seem the practical choice, given that I was right handed and apparently in charge of the movie. That would let me have the remote on the outside of us, instead of in the way, between us.

On the other hand, if she wanted to pause the movie, or rewind a scene, then having it between us would give her the option to do it herself.

The latter eventualities seemed unlikely, as it was not a new movie, and those actions seemed like they would be too... disruptive, so I took the right-hand side. She placed drinks on the table and sat down beside me. I started the movie, and we both began eating.

What we ate is not important. Get over it. But I did like it. She was certainly at least as capable as I was in the kitchen.

The meals complete, we just watched the remainder of the movie, periodically taking turns glancing at each other's faces. A couple of times, our eyes met, but we did not quickly avert them. Neither did we gaze longingly, but there was a sort of acknowledgement between us that we both were trying to learn about each other, however we could, given the unique restriction by which we'd agreed to abide.

Once the movie was over, I got up to put the disc back, and she carried the dishes into the kitchen. I heard water running, and that was an opportunity to be immediately useful. I joined her at the sink, dish towel in hand. One dish after another, she handed them to me clean and wet, and I put them away dry.

Timed just right, I handed her the towel to dry off her own hands. She looked me in the eyes for a second, and actually gave me a bit of a smile as she took the towel.

What an accomplishment. I very nearly got a full smile out of her. Progress.

She put the towel back in its place, and then turned toward the bathroom. I figured she just needed to pee, but she left the door open, and I heard faint sounds of things knocking against other things.

I wanted to go see what she was doing, but I really didn't want to give an impression of distrust, so I just stood there and waited. After about a minute, she reappeared, walked right up to me, grabbed a handful of the front of my shirt, turned away again, and pulled me along with her.

What the hell?

As she placed me in front of the bathroom sink, I noticed that she had gotten my electric hair clippers out and had plugged them in. I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to shave that morning. I was so distracted that I had unwittingly abandoned my normal Sunday morning shaving ritual, which, it turned out, was probably a blessing.

She picked up the clippers, and I half expected her to hand them to me, but instead she pressed her free palm against my back to guide me forward. My head over the sink, she positioned and repositioned my head, and maneuvered around me, carefully running the buzzing device up my neck and face.

Normally, I would do this in the shower, without the water running, before actually showering, so I would not have to worry about whiskers getting everywhere. Part of me was unsettled by the fact that this was being done over the sink and while I was clothed, but everything else about it was more than worth any minor mess that might result.