One Hot Pepper

When he moved in last week, The Girls spotted him from Sally's porch. He was tall, shirtless and sweat streamed down his face as he unloaded his truck. Muscles rippling every time he hauled a box from his truck to the porch, he unloaded the vehicle with rugged grace. In less than an hour, he ducked inside, before The Girls had a chance to pounce.

Three full days passed before Sally announced to the neighborhood that she saw him leave the house and drive off someplace in his truck. The Girls were gathered on Sally's porch as usual that Monday morning, avoiding housework.

"What do you think he does? What is that guy up to? What is his name, even?" asked Betsy, staring at the little house where he had just moved in.

"None of us have a clue. He just got here, then disappeared inside, didn't even come out again, and didn't even look at us when he moved in," Joanne shrugged.

"Well, when he gets back, we are going to find out who he is, what his name is, what he does, and then maybe we'll be able to understand a little more why someone like him has moved here!" announced Sally as she smoothed her long blond curls.

It was two days before his truck returned. Sally figured it was sometime very early Wednesday morning before sunrise. She claimed to have heard the tires in the driveway before her 5am alarm.

The Girls gathered once again that Wednesday morning outside of Sally's house on her porch. No one had seen him come out yet, though their eyes darted frantically toward his house every few minutes.

"Enough of this stupidity." Sally sighed then started to walk briskly toward his house.

The other girls just stared, until Sally turned around and shouted,

"Are you girls coming or what?!"

Betsy and Joanne quickly ran after Sally and before they knew it, she was knocking on his door. Silence. Sally pressed her finger into his doorbell three times and knocked again. Betsy and Joanne looked at each other with wide eyes and giggles.

Suddenly, the door swung open and he was standing there in front of them. He was shirtless again, affording a view of chiseled abs and defined pecs. Up close, The Girls noticed the deep grey hue of his eyes framed by long lashes that they all would die for. His thick eyebrows were both knotted together and raised at the time as he excalimed in a low whisper,

"What the Hell?"

"I'm Sally!"

She extended her hand and flashed her smile that could melt butter. Slowly, he raised his hand to meet hers and swallowed it in a strong handshake. He took in her sky blue eyes then his gaze drifted back toward Betsy and Joanne. Silently, he released his grip and was quickly engulfed with similar handshakes and squeeks from the other two girls, their cheeks burning bright pink and giggles continuing.

"So what's your name? You're one hot pepper!" exclaimed Sally, interrupting Betsy and Joanne's clumbsy greetings.

"I'm John. John Smith."

He stepped back a little from The Girls and he started to smile a little. Really, this was the first time any trace of expression played across his face and Betsy and Joanne could barely stand. But Sally took a step into his house and motioned for the girls to follow. John stopped moving and Sally almost stumbled into him.

"Oh!" Sally squealed, twisting her ankle slightly and fell into John's chest.

Reflexively, he caught her, steadied her, and said in his deep, low voice,

"What are you girls up to?"

Betsy, still giggling, squeeked,

"We just are wondering who you are?"

"I told you. I'm John Smith. Do you girls want to come in? It sure looks that way," John already had turned and motioned for them to follow.

Soon, they found themselves in the little house surrounded by boxes and a few pieces of furniture not yet in their places. John walked toward the kitchen and the girls followed, glancing at each other and smiling.

There was a pot of coffee on an old coffee maker full to the top and John proceeded to pour out three cups into mismatched tea cups. Silently, he handed them to the girls and once again looked at them with his perfectly chiseled poker face.

"You-you don't really talk much..." Joanne's voice trailed off as she took a sip, her eyes darting nervously at the sink, the window, the stove, anywhere but on his lavish form.

"Yes, you are a man of very few words." Sally peered at him over the edge of her cup as she took a deep sip. Her own blue eyes were what her husband called 'hypnotic' and the reason he proposed to her. But at this time, she certainly wasn't the one doing the hypnotising.

Betsy didn't say anything but gulped all of her coffee quickly, fully aware of how clown like she must look with her burning red cheeks and tousled, uncombed hair.

The little kitchen smelled dusty and the coffee was strong. John was like a perfect sculpture there and The Girls all stared at him. Moments ago they were players in mundane lives of nothing but now, they had been summoned into the world of a mysterious new man. Who really was this John Smith standing before them in this little kitchen?

The linoleum floor started to shift and turn, the broken tile on the walls seemed to buckle and curve, the ceiling became unnaturally low, then the small naked bulb on the ceiling seemed to flicker and go out. The world grew dark for Sally, Betsy and Joanne as they crumpled onto the floor. The cups they had just been clutching clattered to the ground shattering, spilling the remaining dark liquid.

All the while, John didn't move. He only watched and waited until he was sure they were all unconscious. At that point he picked each girl up like flour sacks, slung them over his shoulders, and proceeded to walk down into the depths of the basement.