Kristen (Commission Story for Nikki)

Thanks again for the support, Nikki. I hope what I came up with is fun.
Did you know you can commission me to write a story for you. Follow the link below if your are interested
https://www.fiverr.com/gpbooks/write-a-bespoke-gender-based-short-story?source=order_page_summary_gig_link_title&funnel=faa8a8c99b1c4422a19e071452b6ed85

Anyways. Enjoy

KRISTEN

Have you ever known someone so well that when they start acting goofy, you can’t get it out of your mind?

That sort of feeling that nags at you like a thorn in your foot. You can’t relax. You can’t sleep. Every time you find a touch of calm, it’s shattered by that same feeling biting away at you.

Well, that’s what I was feeling that night. You see, my friend Henry, he kinda went off the radar, and I wasn’t sure why. I’d been putting it down to a possible illness—but I remember that he’d still been checking in online at work, so it wasn’t that.

I promise he’s not the sort to work with a cold either. The guy takes a week off for a bruised knee!

I needed to know what was happening!

He wasn’t my boyfriend, so I’m not really sure why, but I hopped in my car and raced over to see if he’s okay. Let’s just say that I’ve never clicked with anyone else as much as I did with Henry, and I was…I was missing him.

Yes, yes. You probably think I must of had feelings for him. On some level, you’d have beem right. But, look here, Judgey McJudgeson. Can a girl not care for a guy without it becoming about dates, marriage, and babies?

No…?

Well, I don’t care what you think. I still went to his house unannounced to make sure he’s okay!

Henry lived just outside the city in this apartment building straight out of the 1980s. It’s a dump, but there’s ample parking. I had a feeling it’s all he can afford, so that’s how he sold living there to me.

Let’s put it this way—if we were getting married at that time, he’d have been living with me and not the other way around. Plus, the whole housewife thing. It’s not me.

Well, anyway. Let me tell you what happened that night….

As I turned into the building's parking lot, I was quick to notice that Henry’s clapped-out old car was parked pretty badly. Now, I thought that was a touch strange. Like he was in a rush to jump out of it and get home.

I thought to myself that maybe he’s in some sort of trouble with a local gang. Maybe he’s got some sensitive information on microfilm, and he’s had to fight his way back to his apartment under heavy fire.

I pulled up beside his car and I checked for bullet holes and found none. If Henry was an international man of mystery, it would have explain some odd occurrences I’d been noticing.

See, maybe once or twice a month, Henry would come into work, and his face would be baby smooth.

Now you’re thinking, Annie….what’s the big deal?

Well, let me tell you.

The man loves a neck beard. Look, I’m not saying he didn’t take care of his appearance or that he stank or anything like that. It’s just kinda obvious sometimes that he didn’t take pride in his appearance.

So, when he’d come into work with a clean face, I found it a little strange.

But it wasn’t just the clean face. It was the red, saw-looking eyes. The clear indication that he’d shaved more than just his face. I’m pretty sure Henry was shaving his entire body, only to then gets all self-conscious about it.

My suspicions were first aroused when he said his armpits were ‘on fire’ and he needed to borrow my roll-on deodorant. Why kind of guy asks their female colleague that?

After that, I really did start to think he’s some sort of spy—getting into disguises every so often for his missions. That’s what worried me. Why wasn’t he answering my messages?

He’d probably been shot and was bleeding out in his apartment alone!! That’s all I could think at the time!

Well, I inspected his car for a moment. I peered through the glass. Oddly, there were many delivery packages. All torn open, like he couldn’t wait to get at their contents.

As I tucked my streaks of hair behind one ear, I couldn’t stop my imagination. Clearly, whatever was in those packets—someone was after them and therefore—after Henry!

I was even more curious and a touch worried! So, I made my way to the building stairwell and headed up.

I wasn’t wearing the most appropriate of footwear for my sloothing. Every click of my high heels on the solid concrete floor echoed off the walls. I’d have taken them off, but this building isn’t the most pleasant.

As I approached his hallway, his neighbour swung open her door. She said she heard me coming from the noise of my heels clacking on the floor, but I didn’t believe her. All I could think was that she’s involved somehow. Running surveillance, perhaps.

“Miss,” she said, opening her door.

“Ma’am,” I replied, casing her out for a concealed weapon.

She was in her pajamas, so there weren’t many places she could hide one. But, being a woman myself—I know how resourceful we can be when it comes to hiding things on our persons….

“Nice evening,” I said with a smile, slowing sneaking past her.

She leant against her door frame and looked me up and down.

“Are you a ‘friend’ of Henry’s?” she asked as a smile tugged at her lips

“Yes,” I nodded.

With a smug smile, she looked down at the floor. “It’s his special time, young lady,” she told me. “I don’t think you’re the sort of ‘friend’ he wants to see..”

I furrowed my brow, stopped in the hall, and gave this woman my full attention. “What do you mean?” I ask, now extremely suspicious.

She chuckled to herself. “How well do you know Henry?”

At this point, I looked around for cameras or any indication that I was being watched. I couldn’t see anything.

“Well enough,” I replied. I then leaned in towards the woman with my hands on my hips. “Why, what’s going on? Is he in some sort of trouble?”

She laughed yet again.

“You might be if you go knocking on his door right now,” she smugly replied. “I really don’t think you’re the sort of person he wants to see.”

I looked her deep in the eye. I wanted answers.

“Who are you?” I asked sternly. “What agency do you and Henry work for?”

There was an awkward silence for a moment. I took that as an indication of suspicion from her, but now I think about it—the mysterious woman looked offended.

“Agency..?” she eventually asked, starting to slowly close her door. “I have no idea. But, with the noises I hear coming from Henry’s apartment sometimes—I hope the ‘agency’ he works for pays him well.”

She closed her door on me.

However, she’d given me just the proof I needed. Was Henry FBI, CIA, or MIB? What I knew at that point was how desperate I was the find out!

Only a turn in the corridor away from his front door, I marched there with purpose. That’s when I bumped into a very dubious gentleman rushing in the other direction. His face was bright red, and sweat was beading down his face.

I was worried, at first, that he’d been roughed up by Henry. Maybe an integration was happening, and this man I’d almost bumped into in the hall was the informant. However, there was a smug smile on his face that told me otherwise.

He took one look at me, then rushed away.

It was odd. Like I’d caught him doing something I shouldn’t. However, I kept going and found myself standing in front of Henry’s door. It wasn’t closed—just left ajar. I peered inside, expecting to see agents, but I saw nothing.

I carefully pushed open the door, half wanting to point my fingers into the shape of a gun. To my surprise, I wasn’t immediately held up by several agents pointing their weapons, but by an eerie silence and a musty, sweaty smell.

I took a second to look around his place. It wasn’t neat and tidy like the last time I’d visited. The coffee table in the middle of his living room has makeup strewn across it. I stepped closer, thinking this must be where he does his disguises.

Why else would a grown man who, as far as I know, isn’t a goth, have this much makeup?

I reached down and picked up the lipstick. A bright shade of red. A touch too bright, even for me.

“What’s this for?” I asked myself, deeply involved with the mystery surrounding me and Henry’s secret life.

“Hello….??” Henry’s voice called out to me from the bedroom.

I jumped.

“I’ll be ready in just a moment,” he continued as I threw the lipstick to the floor. “I’m just cleaning up before you can come in.”

Remembering that it’s just Henry and not Captain America. I quickly relaxed and let out a long breath. But what was he cleaning up? I though that maybe he was cleaning up the blood from his last interrogation case!

For that reason, I didn’t answer back. I just slowly walked towards his bedroom door, worried for the sight of interrogation so foul it would turn my stomach.

Things had just got real.

With the odd packages. The woman on surveillance. The strange man scurring away from the scene. Henry’s secret was about to be blown wide open by me!

Well, that’s what I thought at that moment. Silly really. I got myself all caught up in my imagination. Something of Henry’s was being blown wide open, but it wasn’t his secret life as an agent. Oh no….

“H-Henry…..” I said softly, peering between the crack in the door.

His reply. It still makes me giggle to this day. Not because of what was said, but because I expected one thing and found something entirely different.

“Please,” Henry said in a soft and sultry voice as I slowly opened the door. “Call me Kristen….”

I had an almost out-of-body experience at that moment. I was very aware of how open my mouth was. But, in my defence, how often do you see your friend and colleague dressed to the absolute nines?

I’m not talking tuxedo—like Henry was about to hit Casino Royale. I’m talking heels so high, I’d struggle to wear them. A dress so revealing and tight to every curve, it’d make me blush. That’s not mentioning the huge rack bouncing so playfully as he turned to face me.

“A-Annie!” he shrieked out, trying to hide himself in all his glory.

“Kristen!?” I asked deeply curious, but fixated on his stunningly long, supple legs.

Right stop. I’m not one of those girls who find women’s legs attractive, okay. But you needed to be there! I don’t know what it is that men do, but my goodness! I instantly got hot and bothered just looking at his legs encased, so wonderful in those sheer stockings he had on.

“Stop looking!” Henry grumbled at me, so very embarrassed, covering his plastic chest.

That, I'm ashamed to say, I couldn’t help but giggle at. They were comically big. G cup maybe.

Let’s be honest here. I was jealous. It suited Kristen.

“I can’t help,” I replied. This was the truth. I was more than blown away. I found myself excited by the situation I’d walked into. I’d come to find Henry’s secret life. Maybe I was actually finding mine…?

“You can’t be here!” Henry barked back. “I’ve got….”

Now, he paused for some. His entire body erupted with embarrassment.

“I’ve got…. ‘friends’ coming over,” he eventually told me.

Now, I don’t know if it was the thrill of the moment or the fact I’d found Henry looking so cute in his red date night dress, but I couldn’t help myself. I can already hear you judging me.

Stop it. I get nervous in social situations sometimes. Ok

“C-Can I watch?” Is how I replied. Clearly my mouth moved quicker than my brain. Maybe I said it out of sheer curiosity?

“No!” Henry barked once again, having every right to order me out of his room.

I felt like an idiot.

Here’s one of my best friends in a very vulnerable situation. Clearly, their deepest secret is out on display to me, and all I can bumble out is a stupid response like that. If I were finding Kristen again for the first time, I think I’d just hug her.

But, I didn’t, and this is what happened next.

“Annie!” he bellowed, stomping one of his heels (which I found so endearing. Kristen’s a little fire cracker!). “I can’t believe you’d just turn up like this! No one is supposed to see this!”

I put a single finger into the air, “Erm,” I mumbled. “Are you not going to offer me a drink or anything. I’ve come all this way to make sure you were okay!”

Annie!” he whined once more, folding his arms tight and turning away from me like a right little madame. “You’re killing me right now. Why are you here!?”

It’s very hard to be serious in a situation like that, I can tell you. Henry was just so gosh darn cute, and I’m sure he was really mad at me, but I was so proud of him. Not just because he was wearing that dress better than I ever could, but because he’s clearly been having lots of fun doing it.

I knew that because of the amount of used…..rubbers…. on the bed.

There was no judgment! Kristen had got more action in one night that I’d had all year!

Anyways, back to the moment. He said I was ‘Killing him.’

“I’m killing you?” I answered with a cheeky grin. I then pointed at his heels. “Are you sure it’s not those. Where do you even get heels that high!?”

“Annie!” he moaned for the third time. By this point, I knew he was beginning to get angry with me.

“Sorry,” I said, backing out the door. “I should go.”

Just as I was about to walk away, Kristen stopped me. I guess he wanted to connect with me once the shock of being discovered was fading. I’m glad she did!

“D-Do you think I look pretty?” she asked me in the most sincere of ways.

I nodded.

I didn’t have to lie or think deeply about what my response should be. “Let’s talk tomorrow, Kristen,” I said with a wide smile.

After that, I left pretty sharply. I saw another guy in the hall on my way out. He gave me a surprised look, which was odd. I guess maybe he thought I’d just partook in Henry’s ‘special time.’

I promise I didn’t that night. But, erm. That’s not to say I wasn’t interested.

Let’s just say that myself and Kristen have become….. more acquainted over time.

That next day in the office, Henry came into work. The makeup from the night before still lingered, and he was having trouble sitting. Every time he mentioned that his backside hurt someone else, I could see him glaring in my direction, hoping I wouldn’t say anything!

I mean, I did tell them I thought he might be a spy. Cos, y’know. Why not. Bit of office drama never hurt anyone.

Eventually, I got him alone. I wanted to tease and ask when Kristen is going to invite me over, but what he had to tell me changed my attitude completely. Kristen wasn’t just for fun. She was a cry for help.

Seems that from a young age, Henry had felt alien in his own skin. He talked about a deep yearning to be treated a particular way. To be seen in a particular way. Henry told me so many deep, dark secrets, I still can’t imagine how that must feel.

I still see the doubt in Kristen’s eyes sometimes—when she adjusts her dress for the fifth time, or touches her hairline like it’s betraying her. But I always remind her: she’s beautiful, just as she is.

Rest assured. Every opportunity I get, I remind her just far she’s come. Ah, now I’m rambling a little here. Sorry about that.

I just love her. That’s all.

Well, kids. That’s how I met your mother.

Ha. Jokes. I don’t have any kids.

Not yet, anyways.

“Kristen! Get your sexy little behind in here! I’m done writing, and Mommy needs so sugar!”

“No…don’t take them off! I love how they enhance your legs, babe!”

“I don’t care if you haven’t shaved! I’ll still let you kiss me all over!”

“Kirsten! Now!”