Variations on a Heat Wave

Justin's Perspective

"Well, shit."

The door didn't listen.

I tried the knob again, the sweat from my hand slippery against the metal. Still nothing.

"SHIT." I said, louder. Maybe the door hadn't heard me before.

I tried a third time, before accepting the truth: I was locked out. The air was stale and thick and hot in this hallway, the AC was on in my apartment, I was a sweaty mess after an ill-advised late afternoon run, and I was locked out.

My key had been in my pocket when I left, but it wasn't there anymore; it was probably lying in the dirt of a path in the park somewhere, to be discovered someday by an archaeologist or a crazed apartment hunter. Whether that happened next Tuesday or a thousand years from now, it did me the same amount of good. And what made things worse was that my roommate Paul was away for the weekend, at a cousin's wedding. Dmitry, the super, was never around the building on weekends, let alone holiday weekends like this one; he'd only be available by phone or text. And of course, my phone was inside. No one had a spare key to our place, either.

I considered my options for a while, and came up with a working list:

1) see if any of the neighbours were home to call the super, or

2) die of heat exhaustion.

I went with option 1, starting with Mr. Menendez across the hall, but there was no answer there. Same at Ms. Jackson's door. That brought me to 313.

I couldn't remember either of their names; they'd moved in just a couple weeks earlier and we'd seen each other only in passing. They were our age, mid-20s. One was a teacher, this I knew. The shorter one. The taller one worked in tech? Maybe? Good looking, both of them, at least as far as I'd gathered from quick, non-put-together hellos in the hallway or on the way down to the laundromat on the corner.

I considered myself, before I knocked. I was drenched, my thin grey t-shirt clinging to my chest and stomach. My shorts and underwear were pretty soaked with sweat too; I'd been challenging myself lately, even in the heat of July. I was probably in better shape than I'd ever been, though, combining runs with two or three nights a week at the gym, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Not that I'd turn many heads looking like this, of course. I shrugged and knocked anyway.

This door opened - it must not have gotten the memo. It was the teacher who answered.

Hannah's Perspective

The warm air of the hall hit me as I opened the door.

"Oh, hi." I said, taking in a lot: it was the guy down the hall - Justin? - and he was a mess. Sweaty as hell, his shirt soaked and clinging to... well, to a damn nice torso. Shorts looked soaked too, and he was flushed, his blonde hair matted against his head. He looked miserable and hot - in both senses of the word, if I was being honest.

"Hey, I'm... I'm Justin, down the hall?" I nodded, for lack of a better response. "I'm locked out. Any chance you could text the super for me?"

"Oh no! Sure - do you want to come in? It's brutal out there."

"You sure? I'm going to drip all over the floor."

"It's fine, come on in. Hey Lisa?" I called to my roommate. Lisa was wearing around-the-house wear - yoga pants, no bra, which meant those gravity-defying boobs I secretly envied were on display, nipples poking through her thin spaghetti-strap top. I was continually envious of her striking looks: her sharp features, big wide eyes, jet black hair, a tight but curvy body, like an anime girl come to life. She turned heads.

"Justin from down the hall is locked out," I started, "and needs us to text the super. Is your phone handy?" Lisa said yes and went back to grab her phone while I motioned for Justin to step inside. "Do you want a drink or something?" He looked at the water bottle in his hand, but said yes - I assume it was empty.

"Water would be great, thanks." He replied. I went to the cupboard to grab a glass. I was short, about 5'2", and the glasses were on the second shelf so I always had to strain a bit. I was very conscious of my shirt riding up, and my gym shorts - could he see my panties? I idly panicked - as I stretched up to grab a glass. I turned with one in my hand, my ponytail whipping around, and maybe saw his head turn toward the wall. Had he been checking me out? Nah. I filled the glass from the filter in the fridge and handed it to him. He drained it.

As he drank, I gave myself a moment to look him over. He was tall - 6'2", maybe. I liked tall. His shirt was plastered to him, and I could make out a broad, muscular chest and maybe even a six pack. He wasn't bulky, exactly, but powerful, and his arms were big enough to get me thinking about them around me. Strong legs, and though he was facing me I could tell he had an ass I could appreciate.

I realized he was finished with the glass, and was looking at me as I stared. It had really been too long, if I was dreaming on a guy who was about to pass out from heatstroke.

"Thanks, that was really necessary." If he noticed me staring, it didn't show. I took the glass back to set it down and felt the sweat on his hand as I did. He really was a mess. Had he been jogging? It was 35 degrees out there, as Toronto was three days into a July heat wave.

"Did you really go for a run in this weather?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, in retrospect not a great move. But it had been a while, and I'm trying to train up, so... here's what five km in a heat wave will do to you." H peeled the hem of his sweaty shirt back from the skin of his stomach for a moment, and looked down, the released it.

Lisa came back in with a report. "Dmitry says he's out of town for the night, but he's calling the locksmith - not sure he'll be able to get him out past 5 on a holiday, though."

"Great. Either of you know how to pick a lock?" Justin joked. Lisa and I looked at each other, and sort of silently agreed: we couldn't send him back out there. "Thanks for the water," he said. "I'm going to... dunno. Go somewhere? I've made your place enough of a mess already though." He started toward the door.

Lisa's Perspective

The moron was actually trying to leave.

"Are you kidding?" I said. "You're a sweaty mess, you're probably dehydrated, it's a billion degrees out, and you don't have anywhere to go. Stick around here, at least until we hear back from the locksmith." That stopped him. He looked at me, then Hannah, then back at me, and his shoulders slumped.

"Yeah, fair enough."

Hannah went into teacher mode then. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," she said, with sudden certainty. "You are going to take a shower, and one of us will go throw all of that" she waved at his clothes, "in the wash at the laundromat. Maybe it'll all be done by the time the locksmith gets here. Lisa, do you have any clothes of Mike's or anything?"

My boyfriend Mike spent a decent amount of time here, so chances were the answer was yes. He was shorter than this guy, but there was probably some stuff that would work. But... I'd seen the way Hannah had looked him over. She thought he was hot. And it had been a while for her. I could try to mix things up here...

Hannah and I had been friends since high school, and as long as I'd known her she'd been one of the most competent, smart, caring, and loyal people I'd ever known, but she was absolute shit when it came to boys. She'd always been self-conscious about her looks, though she was really cute, in a girl-next-door way that, if I was being honest, often drove guys crazier than the model type. Whenever she was attracted to a guy, she became an open book, stumbling over herself. The take charge thing I just saw her do was temporary, I knew, because she had logistics to think about; she'd be back to awkward soon. Especially if she saw even more of him.

"He's got, like, a couple pairs of boxers? I don't think anything else." I said, raising an eyebrow raised and looking Justin up and down. I saw Hannah's eyes open a bit wider. "They should fit you, but I doubt either of us have even a t-shirt that would." He looked at me, then her. Hannah looked tongue-tied.

"I..." He had been about to object, but realized he had no alternative. "I... guess I don't have any better option than that, but are you sure? This is a big imposition."

"Yeah, well, we were going to sit around in our underwear watching a movie tonight anyway," I said, "so you're not interrupting much." Hannah's head whipped around to stare at me so fast. It was only a bit of a lie - I had sure as hell been planning to sit around in my underwear. She did too sometimes, so it wasn't a lie exactly, as much as a bold supposition. "What, Hannah, you know we were! Now we just have some company." I tried to keep the mischief out of my voice. She blushed, hard, then turned back to him as I went back to my room. I opened a drawer, looked inside, and saw something that made me grin. I was going to make Hannah lose her mind, and if she was lucky... more.

Justin

Hannah - I silently thanked her roommate for reminding me of her name - seemed off-guard as Lisa disappeared down the hall. "Well yeah, but... okay, yes. That was our plan. And now you will be in underwear too, so that-" she seemed kind of flustered, which made her cheeks red. She really was pretty cute - Lisa was hot, but Hannah was cute, and there were ways that I appreciated that more. But at this moment, I felt far too gross to pay much attention to other people.

"Okay, you get in the shower," Hannah said. "Here, let me get you a towel." She went to a closet and pulled out a fluffy white towel and handed it to me. "Toss your clothes out here before you get into the shower so I can run them down to the laundromat." I took off my shoes and left them by the door, then followed Hannah's direction and headed to the bathroom.

Lisa had re-emerged, looking vaguely like she'd thought of something funny. "Only ones I could find," she said, handing me some underwear - black, felt thin. "I promise they're clean."

"Uh, thanks." I said, as I went into the bathroom.

I closed the door behind me and started the shower, then stripped. I checked out the boxers, and realized what I'd been handed were really boxer briefs - thin, black boxer briefs. I looked at myself in the mirror, and my eyes trailed down to my thick, relatively large cock. These were not going to hide much, I thought.

After a moment considering that, I gathered up the clothes, opened the door a crack, and tossed them out.

"Thanks!" I called out, then closed the door again.

I took a relatively quick, cool shower, not wanting to use up much of their soap, hot water, or time. Plus, the cool water felt about as good as it could on me. By the time I was done, I felt almost normal again. I toweled off, then looked at the underwear again. I slipped them on. They were... tight? Not uncomfortable, but tight. I usually wore regular boxers, so this was different. They cupped my balls and dick, so that there was a bulge in the front of them that was not remotely subtle. The fabric was thin enough that I could even see the outline of the head in there. But... it's what I had, so onward. I opened the door.

"Well hello there!" Lisa said, and laughed as I stepped out. I felt my dick retract a bit from the attention.

"Yeah sorry, they're not exactly modest."

"Nope, they aren't. It's okay, it's what we've got." Lisa looked toward the apartment door. "Hannah is going to freak though, she's a bit more on the conservative side than I am."

"I can, like, get a blanket or something-" I started to look around.

"Oh don't worry about it. I scandalize her all the time, she'll deal." Lisa looked at my package one more time, maybe appreciatively, then went over to the kitchen. "More water?"

"Yes, please." She handed me a glass. I took it as the door opened and Hannah came back in.

Hannah

It was stupidly hot outside, and humid, so that I'd started to sweat before I'd even left the building. By the time I'd thrown the sweat-soaked clothes into the washer, I'd already gotten a bit gross, and as I opened the door I was vaguely thinking about a shower of my own. A brief image of Justin in there with me flashed through my head. But then I walked through the door and... oh my.

First thing I saw was his ass, tight, grabbable, in the black underwear Lisa had found him. Then he turned and there it was: his dick, bulging through the fabric. It looked big, though I had to admit it had been a little while since I'd had first-hand experience. I caught myself staring wide-eyed, and looked up at his face, and saw that he'd seen me look, so I turned my eyes somewhere else at random and pretended I'd been meaning to stare at... the lounge chair all along. Yeah, that was it.

"Yeah, sorry, they're... yeah." He sounded embarrassed.

"No, it's fine, I'm sorry we didn't have anything else." I looked at Lisa as I said it, and she shrugged apologetically.

"We were going to have frozen pizza," Lisa said, gliding between us like there wasn't a gorgeous, mostly naked man standing in our kitchen. "You want any, Justin?"

"Um, sure, yeah. Thanks." He just kind of looked around for a bit.

"Hey, why don't you sit down?" I said, and motioned toward the little table in the corner. There were two seats, but if we had company we could pull over another chair, so I did that. He thanked me and sat, taking his bulge out of direct view. That just let me focus on his chest, though, and that was hardly better, as I started to think about my fingers running over his skin...

"Hannah, can you be in charge of drinks? Maybe some of that white wine?" Lisa called as she started heating the oven. I shook myself out of the reverie and went over to the fridge, next to her. "You doing okay?" she whispered low.

"No!" I replied, maybe a little too loud. I lowered my voice a bit more. "He may as well be naked!"

"You're welcome," she said, then moved away to unwrap three french bread pizzas. Typical of her - no boundaries. We'd been friends since high school, and as long as I'd known her she'd been the most outgoing, vivacious, unflappable, and daring person I knew, which made her my exact opposite. While I was shy and bookish, she was the party girl. When I wore a one-piece suit, she wore a string bikini. She never seemed to care about what other people might think, and I envied that about her even as it scared me a little. Still, we tempered each other pretty well, and I had to admit that even when she dragged me out against my will, I usually had fun. But this... this was uncomfortable, only half in a good way.

"Justin, do you want one of these?" I asked. He agreed, so I set out three glasses, and filled them. I left Lisa's on the counter, set Justin's on the table in front of him, and stood off to the side, taking a big swig of mine. I was going to need it.

Lisa

Jesus, this girl. We had a hot nearly-naked man in our kitchen, she'd had a dry spell that had lasted longer than a pregnancy, and she was standing around, looking away from him, gulping white wine.

"Hannah, why are you hovering? Sit!" I said, lightly, but pointedly. She looked at me with a bit of anger, but I'd called her out so she had to do it. She walked over and sat as the pizza cooked, but even then just kind of studied her glass. I was really going to have to do this myself.

"So Justin," I called over as I grabbed three plates. "What do you do? For money?"

"Oh, I'm in finance. Trying to be, anyway. I work at Scotiabank, in their investment department." Boring, but what did I expect? His body was exciting, his job didn't have to be. I followed up with a couple equally boring questions, jut to loosen him up, and Hannah by proxy. Didn't really listen to the answers. When he seemed done, I mentioned that Hannah was a teacher.

"Cool, what grade?" He asked her.

"Oh, middle school. Music. Over in East York." Finally - when Hannah actually started to engage, she was amazing, and nothing got her more engaging than talking about her job, and her music. Luckily, Justin was actually asking questions, unlike most hot men who just nodded and went on about their own jobs more. By the time I took the pizzas out, Hannah was in the middle of one of her go-to stories, about a kid who accidentally locked himself in the bathroom during her class, and Justin was laughing, both of them evidently forgetting he was sitting around in my boyfriend's underwear. I wondered for a moment what Mike would think about that, before deciding he'd think it was as hilarious as I did. Mike was good that way. I reminded myself to text him and update him on this fascinating development.

"Pizza's up," I called, bringing their plates over, then fetching mine. I sat in the middle chair, between them, as they faced each other and kept talking. I interjected a couple things here and there, but mostly just to keep their thing moving along. We sat around there eating, drinking, and talking for a while. Suddenly, though, Hannah got a panicked look on her face.

"Your clothes! I lost track of time. They're probably finished by now. I'll go get them." I pounced.

"No, you stay, you did the last one. I'll go." I got up, noting that neither of them protested that. I grabbed some quarters, slipped on shoes, and walked out as they kept talking.

As I walked down the hall, I got a buzz on my phone - a text, from Dimitry.

sorry locksmith is not able to come tonight

i try again tomorrow

I smiled - even better. I opened my text chain with Mike: it was time to let him know what was going on. Knowing my man, he'd find it just as entertaining as I did.

Justin

Hannah was really easy to talk to, as it turned out, and the more I talked to her the more I realized how easy she was to look at, too. Her smile and laugh really made her eyes flash, and her whole face came alive with it. She had a long and lovely neck, which led my down to soft, milky skin disappearing into her shirt. She wore a bra - the straps showed from the v-neck of her t shirt: white, basic, matching the underwear I'd seen peeking out of her shorts a bit earlier. No judgement, of course. I didn't expect her to wear black lace lingerie around the house, though I found myself enjoying the mental image. She did have a good body, and would have rocked it: Lisa had the curves and the big tits, but Hannah clearly kept in shape, with B cups that fit her slim, small figure and graceful legs. I'd always preferred petite women anyway. Her face, too, really drew me in - just innocent enough, but expressive and engaging and warm. I started to picture that face flush with excitement, building toward something, but then I shut myself down, feeling my very exposed body start to respond.

She finished another story as I regrouped. Turns out middle school had a lot of ridiculous stories, which I had to admit tracked from my own memories of myself at that time in my life.

Her eyes lit up again when I mentioned that. "Oh, tell me embarrassing stories." She said, with a laugh.

"I don't know if I have good stories, exactly. I remember a lot of random boners, I guess?" I said, laughing a bit but also thanking god that I'd avoided that here. She laughed, but awkwardly, as cheeks got a little red again and she looked away. "Sorry," I corrected myself, "too much?"

"No, no, it's fine - that definitely happens too!" She recovered. But I did wonder, a bit, if she had just pictured my current body getting a hard-on. That led me back down the mental road I didn't want to travel, though, so I thought about the rat I saw on St. Clair this morning until the feeling subsided.

I did remember one story, which I relayed, about my friend Sanjay accidentally turning in a piece of paper on which he'd doodled a bunch of boobs in with his homework. His parents, who were strict and conservative, had not been amused, but I remember his English teacher thinking it was hilarious. Hannah did too.