The sun blazed over Thundarr City, and the thick, humid air settled into every corner of SouthBank Avenue. Inside Ronda Riy’s apartment, the fan whirred lazily, doing little to combat the heat. Rita Faros, completely naked, lounged on the living room sofa, flipping through the pages of a thick novel. Beads of sweat glistened on her skin, tracing along the curves of her body. The heat didn’t bother her much—she had grown accustomed to embracing comfort in her own skin.
Faro Faros pushed open the apartment door and stepped inside, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He froze in place the moment his eyes landed on Rita, sprawled across the couch, her wavy, green-streaked hair tousled from the humidity. His gaze lingered a second longer than he intended before he quickly grabbed a book from the shelf and sat across from her.
Neither of them spoke. The only sounds in the room were the occasional turn of a page and the fan struggling against the oppressive heat. Faro tried to focus on his book, but his eyes kept drifting to Rita’s bare, glistening body, the way her chest rose and fell in slow breaths.
After a while, Rita stretched her arms above her head and sighed. “Ugh, it’s too damn hot. I’m taking a shower.” She closed her book, stood up, and padded towards the bathroom, leaving behind a faint sheen of sweat on the couch. The moment she disappeared down the hall, Faro lowered his book and inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he caught the lingering scent of her body—warm, musky, feminine.
He glanced towards the hallway, ensuring she was still gone, then leaned over the couch where she had been sitting. He pressed his face against the fabric, inhaling her scent with an almost hypnotic focus. His senses filled with the mixture of sweat and the unmistakable trace of her presence.
Just as he indulged in another deep breath, the front door swung open. Ronda Riy stepped in, arms full of grocery bags. She halted mid-step, narrowing her eyes at Faro, who was hunched over the sofa, his nose buried in the cushions.
“…What are you doing?” Ronda asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.
Faro’s head snapped up, his face flushed—not from the heat, but from being caught in such an odd position. He fumbled for an answer, glancing between Ronda and the bathroom door where the sound of running water echoed.
“Uh… just checking the fabric,” he muttered. “It, uh… smells like it needs cleaning.”
Ronda raised an eyebrow. “Right. Because that totally explains why your face was buried in it like a bloodhound.”
Faro opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could, Rita’s voice rang from the bathroom, “Ronda, is that you? Can you bring me a towel?”
Ronda kept her suspicious gaze locked on Faro as she set the groceries down. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said, shaking her head before heading toward the bathroom.
Faro exhaled sharply and grabbed his book again, pretending to be deeply engrossed in its pages.
The scent still lingered.
Rita emerged from the bathroom with a white towel wrapped snugly around her body, her damp, wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. Steam trailed behind her as she walked barefoot across the living room, her skin still glistening from the shower. With a sigh of relief, she flopped back onto the sofa, stretching her legs out as the cool air from the fan brushed against her damp skin.
Faro kept his eyes on his book, though he hadn’t turned a page since Ronda caught him earlier. He could feel Ronda’s gaze boring into him from across the room. She stood near the kitchen counter, arms crossed, an expression of quiet scrutiny on her face.
Rita glanced at the two of them, sensing the tension. “What’s up with you two?” she asked, running a hand through her hair.
Ronda didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked over and stood in front of Faro, looking down at him with a smirk of disbelief. “So, Faro,” she started, tapping her foot. “Want to explain why I walked in on you sniffing the sofa like a damn hound?”
Faro stiffened, gripping his book tighter. “I wasn’t—” He stopped, realizing any denial would be useless. He glanced at Rita, then back at Ronda. “It wasn’t like that.”
Rita raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sniffing the sofa?”
Ronda folded her arms. “Yep. Right where you were sitting before your shower. Like he was trying to—” she paused, tilting her head as she studied Faro’s awkward expression, “—absorb your essence or something.”
Rita blinked, then let out a chuckle. “Oh?” She turned to Faro, who looked increasingly cornered. “Is that true, Faro?”
Faro sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Look, it’s just… the heat does weird things to people, alright?” He scrambled for an excuse. “And, uh… I was just checking the couch fabric.”
Ronda scoffed. “Fabric? Really?” She turned to Rita, shaking her head. “You believe this guy?”
Rita smirked, amused rather than offended. She leaned back, resting her head on the sofa cushion, and stretched her arms over it. “Well, was it a good scent at least?” she teased, throwing him a playful look.
Faro, caught completely off guard, hesitated. His ears burned as he struggled to answer. “…It was… unique.”
Ronda groaned. “Oh my God, Faro, you’re unbelievable.” She walked toward the kitchen, mumbling, “I can’t with you two.”
Rita, still grinning, watched her friend leave before turning her attention back to Faro. She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You could’ve just asked me what I smell like, you know.”
Faro buried his face in his book again. “…I think I’ll just read.”
Rita laughed softly, shaking her head. “Suit yourself.”
The fan hummed, the air remained thick, and the scent of sweat, soap, and lingering embarrassment filled the room.
Rita sat down on the sofa opposite Faro, her legs crossed. She watched as Faro tried to concentrate on his book, a small smile playing on her lips. She slowly uncrossed her legs, spreading them slightly, giving Faro a tantalizing view of her inner thighs. Faro’s eyes flickered towards her, his breath hitching in his throat. He tried to look away, but his eyes were drawn back to the enticing sight.
Ronda, who was in the kitchen, was oblivious to the erotic tension building in the living room. She was busy preparing dinner, humming a tune to herself, unaware of the scene unfolding just a few feet away.
Faro tried to focus on his book, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel his dick stirring in his pants, his body responding to Rita’s teasing. He shifted in his seat, trying to adjust his growing erection, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.
Rita watched Faro’s struggle with amusement, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She slowly stood up, her towel slipping slightly, revealing more of her creamy skin.
Faro’s eyes widened, his book forgotten as he stared at Rita.
“Faro!” Ronda shouted form the kitchen, “come help me prepare this dinner meal sweety.”
Faro got up quickly and threw his book on the table all the while looking at Rita’s gaze. He started walking towards the kitchen, Rita winked at him as he walked by quickly, she closed her legs then started looking at the fan while humming a song.
