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Saturday, June 1st — 2007
It was early. Around 6 am. You could tell because the birds were still chirping their morning song. Drops of dew scattered atop green blades of grass. Condensation on your window from last nights rain. The sun shining through your translucent pink curtains, illuminating your bedroom with a faint sunset glow. You smiled softly to yourself at the peaceful ambiance, grateful to finally get a good nights sleep in after a long week of hectic overnights. You needed this.
But you wanted more and felt you deserved it. There was nothing wrong with wasting away a Saturday, almost everyone does it at least once. Your smile faded as your body sunk deeper into the mattress, sleep overtaking you again. That was, until you heard the doorbell ring.
You let it ring. No one and nothing was going to ruin your perfect morning. However since your body was startled, your brain stirred out of its drowsy state, making you a little more alert. You tried not to let it affect you, keeping a blank expression and trying to clear your mind. Becoming angry would only worsen your mood and rile you up, and those raging hormones would wake you right up.
Silence, aside from talkative nature itself, permeated the world around you, and you soon felt sleepy enough to drift back unconscious.
Finally... peace again. Maybe the person who ringed the bell was just a neighbor asking for more sugar. Possibly Mrs. Bixby, who's always asking for stuff like that. Or maybe the mail man alerting you of a package. Whoever it was, they could come back later. For now, you really needed that sleep.
You were a mess. Your hair was still tucked into rolls under a bonnet. Crust in the corners of your eyes, and extra hot breath from just waking up. You didn't have time to get dressed or wash up and just angrily tossed on a short robe ontop of your panties and crop top combo. You'd stomped down the stairs in a hurry, And now, you stood before two grown men wearing a fluffy pink robe that stopped just above mid-thigh and rainbow slippers. They stood about arms length from you on the porch, while you stood directly under the doorframe. They seemed to react differently to your questionable appearance, the one on the left seemingly checking you out, while the one on the right looked away repeatedly.
Despite the warmth of the sun your bare legs felt the chilly breeze of spring air. Every burst of wind sent a small flap of the hem of the robe upwards into the breeze, exposing a sliver of your inner thigh crease, along with slightly flashing your black underwear. You squeeze your thighs together a little bit, crossing your arms over your chest, analyzing the pair of men before you with a mean mug on your face.
