Girl in the Wardrobe

She heard a key unlocking the front door.

"Shit," she said to herself, and hurried to the bedroom. She lifted the edge of the blanket, thinking that she might hide under the bed.

"Dammit!" There was a short wooden wall around the bed frame. Maybe the bathroom? No. Too open.

The wardrobe. She hurriedly opened it, assessed the inside for half a second, and then pushed some hanging clothes aside and climbed in.

She pulled it closed, as best she could, but there was no handle inside. She squeezed the tip of her pinky into the keyhole and pulled it closed. She spied through the keyhole, though the visual range was very limited.

She had been watching him for a full week in order to get some idea of his schedule. He had driven away not 5 minutes ago. Maybe he just forgot something and would be gone again, soon.

She had been walking past his double-wide mobile home. She was good at staying out of sight, so he had not seen her, but she noticed when something silver fell out of his pocket, as he was withdrawing his hand.

She thought it might have been a quarter. After he had driven away, she walked over to pick it up. It was a key. It might be his house key.

She scanned the area to see if anyone was around, but there were no vehicles at the few other residences, and she saw no one out. Just the same, she walked casually to his front door. She opened the screen, inserted the key, and it turned easy as you please. Both the knob and the deadbolt.

"Holy fuck," she said to herself. She could just walk into this guy's house and steal his shit. Not big stuff, of course, but some little things that she could fit in her pockets.

'No, that's not you,' she thought. In spite of her situation, she did not want to resort to stealing, although things were getting a little closer to dire than she'd preferred.

Being homeless was less easy in a more rural town than it was in a city, but she was just so fucking tired of dealing with the city for other reasons.

She knocked on the door, just in case there was another person, or maybe a dog inside. No sounds. She took another look around, and still seeing no one, she cautiously entered the house, shutting and locking the door behind her. She slipped the key into her pocket.

'Oh, sweet air conditioning. How I have missed you.' She took a deep breath, cherishing the oddly pleasing smell.

Contrary to her preconceptions of mobile homes, it was actually pretty nice inside. It was a bit sparsely decorated, but it was clean. Certainly not the redneck stereotype you often hear about.

She walked further in, looking around. Decent flatscreen. A modest DVD collection. She glanced into the kitchen on her way to the hall at her left. No piles of dirty dishes.

In the hallway, a bathroom door was to the right. Opposite that was a bedroom being used as a computer room. At the end of the short hall was the master bedroom. It looked pretty nice. King-size bed. Nice covers.

To the right of the master bedroom was the master bathroom, which had a rather large tub. She'd love to soak in that a while.

At her left was a wooden wardrobe. Even though the room itself was unexpectedly large, the wardrobe appeared too large for the room. It stood about 6 feet high, and maybe 3 or 4 feet wide. Maybe 2 feet deep.

She took a closer look. It was old. Definitely an antique. Probably inherited it from a dead relative, or something. It was very out of place with its surroundings.

There was a metal lock with a skeleton key hole. Surely it would not be locked. She pulled the a handle on one of the two doors. All of the resistance was at the bottom of the door. The spring powered ball that held it secure was weak, and the door opened with just a slight click.

Clothes, as one might imagine, hung from the rail. Looked mostly like formal wear and a winter jacket. Nothing at the bottom. She opened the other door. A leather jacket. Some older looking clothes. Maybe kept for sentimental reasons.

She closed the doors and walked around the bed to the open closet. Yeah, this is his everyday wear. T-shirts... and more t-shirts. She thought he was cute, but she was getting some conflicting vibes about his sexual preference.

"Oh, and hey, look at that. More t-shirts," she said.

'I'm one to talk,' she thought. 'I've got only two shirts that I alternate every day and haven't washed in 2 weeks. I wonder if he'd miss one if I took it. He's got, like, 30 of them,' she exaggerated. 'No, dammit. No stealing,' she reminded herself.

Her stomach growled. She had been living on one meal a day for a while, and it was time to eat. The downside was mild hunger throughout most of the day. The upside was that, thanks to the exercise she got walking and climbing in and out of things, being a homeless traveler, it actually gave her a pretty rockin' bod, if she did say so herself.

But right now, her bod was hungry. She walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Eating his food would be stealing, wouldn't it," she asked out loud. Peering in at the selection before her, she internally debated.

'It's survival, right? I'm not pawning his stuff or anything. He probably won't notice a slice of bread missing from this almost full loaf. This big, opened package of ham looks almost full. Jar of sliced pickles.' Her stomach growled again.

"Fuck it," she said and started taking the makings of a half sandwich out of the fridge, but then paused.

"Oh, shit." She began putting things back. 'I can't let him know anyone was here. Gotta do this without leaving anything out of place.'

Satisfied that everything was back in its original position, she handled each item one by one, making mental notes of where things were in relation to other things, and which direction labels faced. With the help of some of here own personal cutlery , she was soon munching away.

When she was done, she checked the area for crumbs that might be noticed, cleaned them up, and thought that perhaps it was time to go. She walked to the front door and paused, taking the key out of her pocket.

'Wait a minute.' She reached into her other pocket, pulled out all the change she had and counted it. 'This should be enough to have this key copied. I could came back here tomorrow. No, wait. I should watch the house first. See what kind of schedule he keeps.'

She returned the change to her pocket, and then peeked through the blinds. Looked all clear, so she opened the door.

'Ugh. Fucking heat,' she grimaced.

She left and locked up behind her. At the nearest hardware store, she had the key copied, and then returned to the guy's house, placing his original in the same spot where she found it.

Down and across the street, she found a tree that would hide her well. She climbed up, found a place to sit and took off her backpack. She unzipped it and pulled out the book that she had been reading. She had a good view of the guy's house and something to pass the time.

She glanced up with every sound of tires rolling. At about 5:45pm, it was his car that rolled in. She made a mental note of the time on her watch.

'Okay. So, maybe he has a 9 to 5 job, and it takes 45 minutes to get home.'

Her muscles were a little stiff. In spite of having taken breaks to climb down and walk around, she still had spent a number of hours sitting in one position in that tree. That's okay. It's not the first time she'd camped in a tree for a while.

She slowly made her way down and went about her day, happy to be walking, for a change.

The following days she watched him leave and return, like clockwork. Out the door at 8:15AM. In the door at 5:45PM. Definitely a 45 minute commute.

He apparently worked Monday thru Friday and had weekends off. Also, he went grocery shopping on Thursday.

The next Monday, she entered his house a second time. It looked pretty much the same as the first time. He seemed pretty meticulous. She took a closer look at the tops of what furniture there was. Not really any dust to speak of.

This was good. It would be easier to remove traces of her presence. She went to the kitchen and checked the food situation. He was low on bread, so that was out as an option.

"No sammich for me," she said, disappointed. She took her cup out of her backpack and poured a little milk in from the 3/4 full jug. He wouldn't notice that. She used her own fork to fish out a couple of pickle slices. Better go easy on those, in the future. She ate a couple of fistfuls of dry breakfast cereal from a freshly opened box, careful to refold the bag just as he had.

In a cabinet, she found a bag of medium-sized marshmallows, and helped herself to a couple for dessert. All in all, it was a nice change from her usual 99 cent burger, but still not exactly satisfying. Better than nothing, and she could still get a burger on top of it.

Things were working out pretty nicely. She was happy to be able to pee in a house, in private. Hadn't done that in a long time.

On Tuesday, she grazed and decided to watch some movies.

On Wednesday, she grazed and decided to lay down on his bed.

"Ohhhhh, fuuuuuck," she sighed, her body melting into the cushiony softness. So much better than hard floors and smelly, torn, bare mattresses in abandoned factories. She rolled over onto her face and inhaled deeply. Laundry detergent smell. Mmmm.

"Oh, fuck!" She quickly pushed herself off the bed. 'I'm stinking up his covers!' She leaned over and sniffed where she had been laying. "Crap," she said, smelling her own unwashed scent.

'Not too bad, I guess. It'll air out before he gets back. I wonder if I could get away washing some of my clothes. Taking a damn shower. Can't remember the last time I had an actual shower.'

She looked at her watch. 12:17PM. She went to the laundry room, off the kitchen, and checked to see how viable the idea was. Nothing in the washer or dryer. Good. The jug of liquid detergent was heavy. Good.

'Shouldn't take more that a couple of hours to wash and dry a small load.' She inspected the controls. 'Okay. Looks simple... enough.'

She took a notepad and pen from her backpack and jotted down the machine's current settings, and then changed them to something basic.

She pulled the second set of clothes out of her backpack and dropped them in. She kept a spare set of everything, and she learned long ago that wearing little traveled better. Not only did it take up less space, but it made people... well, mainly guys, more... helpful.

She just wanted to avoid looking like a prostitute or something. She didn't want to resort to stealing or sex to keep herself fed, and she wanted to keep the sexual advances of assholes to a minimum, if possible..

Just enough detergent, and...

'Hmm," she paused. 'I might as well go ahead and wash everything and take a shower. If he comes back unexpectedly in the middle of washing or drying, I'm boned anyway.'

She kicked off her Converse and pulled off her tank top, dropping it in the machine. Her breasts were small enough to not need a bra, which she counted as a plus, all things considered.

Cut-off denim shorts and panties came off together. She looked at the old blood stains set into the cotton patch of the crotch. 'No hope for you, I guess.'

She peeled off her socks, and might as well drop the shoes in, as well. Washable shoes are a must.

She closed the lid, started up the machine, and then became keenly aware that she was standing completely naked in a stranger's house.

A sensation of static electricity expanded from her hips and washed through her body outward to the tips of her fingers and toes. For a moment, she felt as if her heart might stop, and she couldn't breath. Her face flushed with a sudden heat.

'Woah. Haven't felt that in a while. This is kind of... exciting.' She walked back through the kitchen, taking in the feel of the cold linoleum under her bare feet. Then the momentary carpet of the living room and hallway. She curled her toes into it, because that's what you're supposed to do, right?

She entered the guest bathroom, figuring that would be one he'd be less likely to notice was used. She felt irrationally uncomfortable leaving the door open, but she didn't want to close it all the way, either. She wanted to be able to hear anything that might be happening outside of the bathroom, in so far as she would be able, so she closed the door just most of the way.

She pulled the shower curtain aside and turned on the water. She took note that a neatly folded bath towel was hanging up nearby. She regulated the temperature of the water. As much as she wanted it hot and steamy, she knew that was a bad idea, so she settled for sufficiently warm.

She stepped into the tub, closing the curtain behind her, closed her eyes and stepped into the falling water.

'Oh, fuck yeah." The feel of water rushing over her bare skin sent that sensation of electricity radiating through her again. So, many experiences she had forgotten since she ran away from that last foster home. She ran her fingers through her neck-length hair.

Granted, some things she wanted to forget, but not these things. Showers. Bare feet on clean floors. Just being completely clean, in general.

She opened her eyes and looked for soap of some kind. There was a barely used bar on the little shelf inset into the wall of the shower/tub combo. Since it was not a completely new bar, she took it and began lathering up. Another wave spilled through her.

She wasn't exactly dirty, per se. Her usual bath was a daily rinse and wipe down with a wet paper towel, in a single-occupancy gas station bathroom. It sufficed, but it was still not a complete wash. She never got every inch of herself, and not with soap.

This felt like she was removing a layer of herself. A layer that she had forgotten that she didn't want. She'd lived with it so long that it had become her normal.

'I'm sooo gonna shave my pits and legs tomorrow.'

She soaped her hair and scraped her scalp, feeling grit collect beneath her short nails. She rinsed and soaped again, repeating the process until she no longer felt anything collecting. That was a very satisfying experience.

She washed the rest of her body, rinsed, and turned off the shower. She would've stayed in there an hour if she had a guarantee of not being caught. She noted that the shower head was removable. Another wave washed through her. Make that two hours.

'We'll get better acquainted next time.' Another fond memory that hadn't surfaced in a long time.

She shook herself, much like a dog, in order to sling off some of the water that remained on her skin. After that, she swiped her hands across her body to remove even more, further reducing the amount that would end up on the bath towel.

She vigorously shook each leg before stepping over the edge of the tub and onto the bath mat. Fortunately, the mat was shaggy and colorful, so no visible footprints would be left behind.

She carefully removed the towel, folded it backward along the last fold, and dabbed herself dry. Her hair no longer dripped, but she left it damp, instead of towel drying it further. When she finished, she returned the towel to its original position, thereby hiding the wet area from view.

The mirror was not fogged up. That was good. She took a moment to look at herself. It had been a long time since she'd seen herself naked in a mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair, as if to style it. She admired her physique. She smiled at herself, but also just at the overall opportunity to feel good.

She always kept a good attitude about things, ant she never thought badly of herself, but it had been a long time since she truly felt attractive. Sexy, even.

She walked out of the bathroom and returned to the laundry room. The wash had just a few more minutes to go, so she waited it out, then transferred her clothes to the dryer and started it. Estimated time: 30 minutes. Maybe 45.

'What to do, now," she wondered. 'The bed.' She walked excitedly back to the bedroom, sat down carefully on the edge. The feel of it against her more sensitive area sent another wave of electricity through her.

'Oh, my,' she delighted and giggled a bit. 'Now is not the time for that. Don't want to risk leaving a wet spot anywhere.'

Instead she spread her arms out like a ballerina and gracefully fell backward onto the covers. It felt wonderful against her skin. An unbroken softness against the entire length of her torso. She writhed a little, just to see what it felt like, and then just lay there, resting.

The next thing she knew, a loud buzzing sound brought her out of sleep.

'Damn. Gotta be more careful. If that dryer didn't have a buzzer, I could have been fucked.'

She scooted off the bed, and then straightened the covers. She swiped her hand across to the surface to clear off any "wrinkles" in the comforter, and then felt a damp area where her head had been.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" She felt the back of her hair. It was decidedly less damp than before. "Okay. Okay. It's not visible, and he might not do anything on the bed before he goes to sleep."

'Calm down. Get dressed. Get out while you can. And be more fucking careful.'

She returned to the laundry room, retrieved her clothes and put on a set. She wasn't exactly pleased at the warmth of them, given that she was about to go back out into the heat of the day, but she had bigger concerns, at the moment.

The rest of the clothes were hastily folded and shoved into her backpack. She double-checked everywhere that she had touched in the house, to see if there were any signs of her. Everything looked good.

Looking out through the blinds, she waited for a car to pass, and then left the house, locking the door behind her. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, she walked to her hideout tree, climbed up, and settled in. She exhaled a sigh of relief.

She waited there until she saw him drive into his parking spot, right on schedule. She felt another sense of relief, like everything was reset. It felt safe to go back in, tomorrow.

Returning the next morning, she watched him leave, waited a minute, and then casually entered.

'I wonder if he has cake, today. That would be awesome to have some cake on my birthday.' She walked to the fridge and opened it. 'Dang. Not even cupcakes. ... That would be worse, actually.'

She checked the freezer, just for the dumb luck chance. 'Yeah, he doesn't have the body of a guy who would have cake in the house.'

Suddenly, there was a creaking sound. 'What the-' She froze. It was familiar. It hit her that the screen door had been opened.

She heard a key unlocking the front door... and felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

"Shit," she said to herself, and hurried to the bedroom. She lifted the edge of the blanket, thinking that she might hide under the bed.

"Dammit!" There was a short wooden wall around the bed frame. Maybe the bathroom? No. Too open.

The wardrobe. She hurriedly opened it, assessed the inside for half a second, and then pushed some hanging clothes aside and climbed in.

She pulled it closed, as best she could, but there was no handle inside. She squeezed the tip of her pinky into the keyhole and pulled it closed. She spied through the keyhole, though the visual range was very limited.

'Crap! Why is he back? He was gone for 5 fucking minutes.'

She faintly heard the front door close. 'Better now than later, I guess. Could have caught me in the shower.'

For a moment she imagined him walking in on her while she was laying in the tub with the shower head between her legs. The familiar radiant electricity made her gasp. 'Mmmmmm, now's not the time.'

He appeared. He walked into the bedroom, took off his t-shirt, and then tossed it on the bed. 'Oooh, nice,' she thought briefly. He turned an walked back into the hallway. 'No, no, no. That means he's not leaving again. Shit!'