Teasing is a Slippery Slope Ch. 01

Warning: The central themes of the following chapters of this story are blackmail and reluctance.

I woke to the sun on my face. Opening my eyes a little, I began ordering my thoughts: I had been slumbering at my desk, doing a homework assignment as boring as it was urgent. I glanced at the clock: 12:34 pm. Shit!

I was supposed to be at work at one o' clock! My Chinese boss was an absolute asshole when it came to punctuality. I had already been late once this month. If I didn't show up on time, fresh and clean I might as well not show up at all!

As I leapt from my chair, my body protested on behalf of a better sleeping position. I hadn't been kind to him these last few days. Sprinting to the bathroom, I constructed an emergency plan: Showering would have to skip until the evening, but I had already appeared at work with stubbles about six months before. I did not fancy the promised outcome should "such intol'able behavior" happen again.

Just as I arrived at the bathroom door, I heard the hissing of the shower.

You gotta be kidding me!

Suddenly Murphy's law came to my mind: Anything that can go wrong at some point in time will go wrong.

In panic, I hammered at the bathroom door.

"ZOEY!".

The hissing died. Her disgruntled voice replied, "What do you want, Andrew?"

"Zoey, I need to get in there!".

Suddenly the image of her completely naked only a few feet away from me appeared in my mind. I realized how weird what I had just said would sound to her.

A light chuckle followed by a "What?" seemed to confirm my suspicion that she got wind of my awkward pause.

See, here's the thing with Zoey: She's a monster, and that in more ways than one: She is a redhead (though her hair gets fair in the summer) who worked out every second day. Her figure showed it:

She was athletic with small hands and feet. Her breasts that would fit nicely in my hands were only outshone by her well-rounded ass. Zoey's face was cute as a button. The worst was: She was fully aware of it.

We also both knew she was completely out of my league.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not an ugly guy. Unlike my parent-supported roommate though I needed a job while I was doing my college and thus had no spare time to do excessive sports or work out.

Coming from Europe myself I was lucky to have received a scholarship that allowed me to study half of my semesters in the states. Still, it left me with a lot of expenses.

"Seriously Zoey, I need to shave, my boss will kill me if I show up like this!"

After a short pause, I heard the padding of wet feet on the tile floor. The door opened just enough for me to see my flat mate's freckled face.

I had to concentrate to stare in her green eyes. It seemed as if the towel hung a bit lower than it should, daring me to give the outline of her tits a glance.

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, reminiscent of a bloody queen about to decide a prisoner's fate on a whim.

That was the monster I mentioned, something I absolutely wanted to avoid. I knew better than to press her: At best, Zoey could be teasing and good for a laugh, at worst she could become a total bitch, not caring about anything but her own comfort, her own pleasure.

"Alright", she said after what felt like an eternity. "Shouldn't take you more than five minutes, right? I have an appointment, too, you know."

Yeah, a date probably. Very urgent. Knowing better than to speak up, I squeezed past her into the bathroom, not waiting for her to make room. The morning wood in my boxers brushed her towel, reminding me again why it was hard being around my roommate.

The bathroom smelled of Zoey. Was it lavender? Must be some sort of cream she uses.

I heard the door close behind me and was about to undo my belt to use the toilet when I heard a "Hell no!" behind me.

As I turned, I saw Zoey standing there, her face tight with anger.

"You said you only had to shave, I don't want to smell your shit while I'm showering! You're late anyways, go to the toilet at work!"

I imagined my chef spotting me going to the bathroom after being late already and my guts turned. The only chance I saw was getting this done as quick as possible.

Sighing, I walked back to the basin to grab my shaving cream. Through the mirror, I saw Zoey waiting at the door, fumbling with something on her towel. When she looked up, she saw me watching her through the mirror. I realized I had stopped applying shaving cream, I was standing there like a dumbass.

"Soo, shouldn't you hurry up?".

I turned slightly red; went back to shaving.

Don't get me wrong, normally I knew to behave myself around Zoey. But the scent of her filling the room and my raging morning wood didn't help me think straight.

I concentrated on shaving. I had just drawn up my razor once more when I suddenly heard the shower turned on again. I knew Zoey well enough to realize she was only trying to fuck with my mind, daring me to peek. She undoubtedly would be standing there still in her towel, waiting for me to embarrass myself once more.

Not with me. Though I couldn't see her in the mirror I decided to play cool.

"Don't you try to fuck with me, girl."

I jumped when I heard her voice replying below me to my left. "Oh, I wouldn't dare, boy. I just like being in moisturized air. It's good for the skin, you know?".

She was kneeling on the floor in her towel and though she didn't look directly at it, I knew she was well aware of my boner pressing through my boxers inches from her face.

Fuck! I had been so startled I had cut myself; felt the blood slowly dripping.

"Would you mind moving? There's something I want in there", she smiled, innocently looking to the cabinet next to my boxers and then up at me.

I must admit I had a hard time breathing calmly, seeing her kneel innocently besides me without her normal arrogant attitude. Even though she still was in her towel I could feel my morning wood craving her attention.

I felt the primal urge to grab her face and press it against my boxers, but I knew she only teasing. She had made it clear on multiple occasions before that she:

A) didn't fuck roommates

B) simply didn't find me attractive enough to be worth a break of her principles.

She loved to see what reactions she could get. Out of my reach, being desired, but able to deny anyone. I had no doubt she treated me like many other guys.

The sting of the shaving cream on my open cut brought me back to reality.

Go fuck yourself, Zoey. I had my own principles and one of them was not to be late for work again. My job may have been boring but at least it was close and relatively well paid. That was a real blessing in a town overfilled with old people, students and immigrants, all looking for jobs and underbidding themselves in what seemed to be a suicidal run of humiliation, much to the delight of local industry. It honestly felt like back at home.

I looked at my watch: 12:41 pm.

If I was lucky I could still catch the train. I looked at Zoey who had was shaking her own shaving cream bottle one-handed. I could've sworn she was imitating jerking me, grinning while looking at me playfully in the mirror. The fuck!

She had always been teasing when in a good mood, but now this little bitch did it because she knew I had neither time to enjoy it nor time to jerk off afterward! Instead, I'd have to be at work with my raging boner, thinking about her naked in the shower!

When I had finished shaving and was storming out, Zoey shot me an innocent, "have fun at work!" which I answered with a middle finger.

My roommate laughed. I felt the urge to go back and slap her. With my dick. Immature, I know, but I sometimes felt like a small, helpless kid in Zoey's presence. I hated it.

As I glimpsed back, the door closed, but she dropped her towel at the last moment. It provided me with a thin line glimpse of her freckled back and the right cheek of her well-rounded ass. I could've sworn I saw her looking at me through the mirror. I didn't care, it wasn't like she didn't always do this on purpose.

Work was as mundane as usual. But there was this giant snake in my pants, impossible to get rid of. Since I worked as a waiter it was quite obnoxious to hide, so after half an hour I couldn't take it anymore. I excused myself to the bathroom where I had one of the quickest wanks of my life. It felt like puberty all over again, but at least I could think clearly again.

As I washed my hands in the sink I heard somebody come into the bathroom. It was Frank, a middle-aged Caucasian co-worker who shared the shift with me that day.

"Hey Andrew, how are you doing?"

I honestly felt pretty good being able to think clear again, but Frank didn't really seem to care for an answer:

"Listen, I have a problem and I hope you can help me: My ex has agreed to let me get Lucy, my daughter, on Friday evenings already. You remember Lucy, right?"

I didn't, but nodded anyways. As far as I knew Frank had already been divorced when I started working here, we barely had shifts together. Not that I cared much for family stories, his or others.

"So, I really need someone to change shifts with me on Friday evenings. I've asked Mathew and Sam already, but both can't do it or don't want to." Anger showed on his face, but he quickly became friendly again. Oh, the skills you get to hone as a waiter.

"You're a decent guy, I know that, would you help a man in need?".

Honestly, unless he had been spying on me, he had no chance of knowing whether I was decent or not.

At that moment, I thought about what equipment it would take to spy on Zoey in the shower. I calculated the risks and concluded that it was probably not worth it, our walls were pretty much bare and there weren't many utensils lying around, not a good place to hide a camera, even a small one.

I imagined the look on Zoey's face as she'd see one of those stuffed animals with a camera in the eye I remembered having seen in some film on our bathroom heater.

I grinned and shook my head absently, something Frank seemed to misinterpret:

"Please, Andrew, you really would do me a favor here, I wouldn't forget that I can't give you money but I'd owe you big time!"

I looked at my coworker, coming back to reality. Was this pleading look the same reaction Zoey tried to get from guys? I couldn't help myself but imagining Zoey begging before me. Now that would be a sight to behold! Oh Frank, why can't you be a woman. And pretty. And ten years younger. . .

I exhaled audibly. My porn consumption after my last girlfriend left me was at an all-time high and slowly gave me concern about my perception of reality. That Zoey was constantly teasing me for fun didn't help either.

Frank was still looking at me with desperate hope in his eyes and I realized I hadn't said anything.

"I'll think about it" I said, just to get him off me.

"We should go back to work, Mr. Chao will kill us otherwise".

It was peculiar I was working in customer service: I didn't really like people with the exception of a few close family members, a handful of friends and Zoey. I had a head for numbers and patterns though, and knew how to be polite and fake a smile which was pretty much all my boss demanded.

So, I let go of my thoughts and put on the smile, ready to please whoever paid for it.

* * *

When I got home, I saw Zoey in the kitchen, unpacking groceries. She had her red hair in a ponytail and was wearing comfortable stay-at-home pants

"Hey buddy, how was work?"

I should mention that we were not really buddies. The only reason we were flat mates was because the cleaning worked: We had both been in dorms before and could testify to the amount of junk that accumulated once more than four people shared a kitchen together.

When we met, we both agreed that keeping a clean apartment was the single most important thing when living together.

Besides that, we couldn't be more different: Her taste in music was shit. We couldn't watch a film together without one of us complaining about the other's choice. She'd call me a nerd, I'd call her a hussy, but at the end we'd both laugh about it and enjoy each other's company. Honestly, as much as I hated her teasing, I was quite happy being around he, even if I could only look.

It was a bit like a nice piece of nature one couldn't touch or fine art in a museum. One you could occasionally masturbate to.

"I told you I don't wanna talk about work", I said. "It's boring and I have enough of it already, so thank you".

"You see, Andrew. . ." (she always called me Andrew when she was patronizing me) ". . . that's why you have such a tough time with girls!"

Oh my, not again. Now She talked very softly, as if she were on some kid's show:

". . . when two people like each other, they ask themselves questions, even if they seem redundant."

She took the last two items from her shopping bag, two oranges and moved them like they would talk to each other.

From my point of view, it looked a bit like her oranges were her boobs and she was playing with them. I suppressed a grin which she seemed to misinterpret as an encouragement. She continued in a high-pitched voice:

"Hey Orange, how was your day?"

She moved the other fruit while imitating a tenor:

"- Good, how was yours?

- Oh, I'm soooooo glad you asked! Blablablablabla. "

She put down the oranges, looking at me.

"See how easy it is, Andrew? The first Orange didn't really ask because she wanted to know how the other Orange's day was. She asked because she wanted to tell him about her day!"

She emphasized the words and spoke very slowly like I wasn't foreign but some sort of retard, then looked at me expectantly.

I hated her patronizing voice, at least her teasing tone made me hard. Pretending I also had oranges and making a face as if I were considering what she was saying I made a motion as if to grab an imaginary pair of breasts and grinned. "Can you. . . squeeze those fruits for me again? I think I might be onto something".

Rolling her eyes and suppressing what might've been a Pterodactyl screech she calmed herself, smiled and looked directly into my eyes.

"If you ever touch my oranges, I'm gonna fucking kill you."

"Fine, fine!" I gave in, mostly because I started to feel hungry.

"How was your day?"

My roommate's face went bright again:

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked, buddy!"

Apparently, we were buddies again. I raised a finger in objection:

"Can we cook something while you bend my ear? I might work at a restaurant but being the exploited employee I am they won't feed me anymore."

It actually was because I had complained about the food once or twice, there was no need to tell that to Zoey though. It turned out she had bought food for exactly that occasion which led me to belief that she had already planned ahead. It would likely be a very long, very one-sided conversation about her boring peers and whatever they did when they didn't go to the gym or study.

Zoey was very excited and bounced back and forth between sink and stove, cutting carrots almost as fast as she was talking.

We made one of the classic poor student meals: Rice, some cheap meat and vegetables, some of which I'd never think of buying by myself.

All the while I watched her and was thinking about this crazy relationship we had since when now, close to a year? Don't get me wrong, I had my own nerdy friends with whom I had great fun, but having seen their kitchens, I wouldn't dare live with them. It was good to have a place in this city I could call home.

That would make Zoey what, my sister? My Mom? My dick shriveled at the thought of it. But maybe that was how I should look at it, a two-person family.

I looked at Zoey who currently was bending over the fridge looking for additional ingredients. The way she had her legs stretched all the way while bending down made her ass visible through her loose pants made my trousers move again. Did she do this automatically or was she just fucking with me again?

I shook my head. Get real Andrew, she wasn't family and honestly there was no way you would ever want her to be.

Table talk was strangely political. Zoey wasn't really a political person, nor was I. In regards to the current president though the bar of how competent one had to be to express your opinion seemed to have fallen to an all-time low.

We had similar views, but coming from different countries and backgrounds kept the conversation interesting.

When I went back to my room I thought about watching some porn to help me get rid of my boner who had done his impression of a sinus rhythm this evening.

I dismissed the idea though because I was too tired and instead lay awake thinking about Zoey: I remembered once having had the courage to ask her if she wanted us to be "fuck buddies," trying to keep cool, but reddening as she raised her eyebrows, chuckled and gave out another version of her principles and how she wants me as a flat mate, not a fuck toy (yep, she used those exact words).

The teasing had stopped for a few days afterwards, but quickly picked up again after a week. She enjoyed teasing, that little bitch.

I had since been careful to not press the bantering too hard to not weird her out, after all I still enjoyed it. Then again, masturbating after a long evening with Zoey wasn't what I would call satisfying. . .

*

A huge thanks to robertreams for helping me improve my English! As a non-native speaker it helps a lot.