The Baddest Bad Boy

Caitlin and I spend a few minutes catching up. I love that our friendship is never strained, even if we go weeks without talking. We always find ways to chat and gossip like we’ve never been apart.

During a break in the conversation, Cait asks, “So, what are you doing tonight? You’ve got your own place now! Any wild plans?”

I grin.

“I’ll probably just sleep. I’m exhausted.”

Caitlin chuckles. “Hey, that’s a good plan because at least it’ll be quiet without people banging around while you try to get some zzz’s.”

That’s the truth. At my parents’ place, it was so crowded that it was impossible to sleep without ear plugs and an eye covering. Here, that should be no problem. But then a pang strikes my heart.

“I almost miss the chaos,” I say.

“You can always go visit,” Cait consoles me. “I’m sure your parents would love it.”

I perk up.

“I know. I’m glad I’m only a few blocks away because I don’t think I could ever move further than that.”

Cait sighs.

“Me, neither. I really love Medina. Oh, I should probably go before Peony wakes up from her nap. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Enjoy the silence!”

I laugh.

“Alright, bye. Love you, girlfriend.”

“Love you more.”

We hang up, and my apartment is quiet once again. I look around, astonished by the silence. It’ll be nice to have curtains up in the living room, come to think of it. Right now, I have a nice view of the building next door and the parking lot across the street. Not exactly the most beautiful sights to see all the time.

Plus, I don’t want anyone to be able to see me, come to think of it. I’ve heard super creepy things about peeping toms, and this is the first time I’m living by myself. I don’t want some dirty old dudes looking at me while I change. Eeew!

Nonetheless, I sigh happily. I don’t care that the view isn’t great and that the apartment’s a bit shabby. I don’t even care (right now) that there may be peeping toms with their binoculars out. This is all mine!

I spin around in a lazy circle with my arms outstretched, savoring the space. Okay, so maybe I’m renting, but that doesn’t matter. I earned this apartment, and I’m going to celebrate.

In the kitchen is a half-fridge. It’s not quite the mini-version that people have in college dorms, but it’s not a full-sized fridge, either. Instead, it fits under the counter neatly, like a white box filled with treasures. It’ll work just fine for me.

I swing the door open and grab the bottle of wine inside that Caitlin and her husband sent me. It’s probably expensive, and I should wait until I can share it with friends, but I want to celebrate tonight. What better way to do so than with a fancy bottle of cab?

My only cups are red plastic ones left over from summertime barbecues. I pull one out, pretending like this is the college experience I never got to have.

“Cheers,” I say to no one. “Huzzah!”

I take a sip and smile, looking around again. This place rocks, and I’m happy with my living situation even if the walls are bare and the countertops dingy. I’ll slowly add décor to make the place truly my own. Maybe a few posters on the walls, a small fiddle-leaf fig by the door, and a few candles in the fireplace. Yes, that’s it. It would create the right ambience, striking a tone that says “independent, intelligent young woman.”

But then, a naughty idea comes to mind.

I shake my head. No, I can’t. I’ve never even thought to do something like this before. But maybe I can, seeing that I have my own place now.

After all, when you live with your parents, there are certain things that are off the table. Especially if you’re sharing a room with a younger brother. In fact, I’m still a virgin because there were frankly no opportunities. Unless I wanted to climb out the window in the dead of night and scale down five stories, someone was always watching me. But now, I can do a lot of things. The old rules no longer apply, and I smile.

I’m going to do it. I’m going to take nude photos of myself.

I blush. Over the last few months, I’ve started going to the gym because I wanted to tone up a bit. I’m not fat by any means, but I’m a bigger girl, and I wanted to be a bit more lush and less jiggly. My butt is juicy and heart-shaped. My waist is small and trim, and my breasts are the perfect size. They’re not so enormous that they hurt my back, but they’re certainly generous enough so that I have plenty of cleavage.

So why shouldn’t I take nude photos of myself? I look damn good. I admire myself in the mirror after every shower now, and turn this way and that, marveling at my figure. So seeing that I have the privacy, I’m finally going to take some naughty snaps.