There are plenty of people who would be thrilled beyond reason to have a young woman ring their doorbell at 2 a.m. wearing nothing but a bra and sky high heels. I am not one of them.
And yet, this was the very scene outside my studio apartment this Saturday night.
I was sleeping on the couch, like you do, when I heard someone ring my doorbell. I found this odd for several reasons, the primary of which is that I live in a doorman building, and I hadn't okayed anyone coming up. Also: 2 a.m.
Thinking I might be dreaming, I waited. Sure enough, the bell rang yet again.
I threw on some shorts and headed to the door wondering what on earth might be lurking out in the hallway. A gentleman suitor? A late night delivery of pizza and wine?
Nope: naked girl in nothing but a bra and high heels.
She tried to cover herself up once I opened the door, but she had nothing with which to do so. She must have seen my gobsmacked face that had just gotten a gander at her hooha, because she immediately exclaimed, "I'm so sorry."
"Are you okay?" I feared she may have been assaulted.
"Yes, I am fine. I just..."
"First of all, get in here." I ushered her inside, and she immediately went to sit on the end of my bed. Without her chonies on. Yeah. That's when I could tell she was drunk.
"I locked myself out of my apartment, and I was hoping you could call the desk and ask them to let me in."
"Of course!" I looked around for my phone.
"Wait, let me get you a robe." I pulled my robe out of the laundry hamper (so, it wasn't clean, but it was clothes) and handed it to her. "You can keep that," I told her.
I made the call to the front desk and told them my neighbor had locked herself out and could they please come up and let her in.
"Can she come down and get a spare key?" No, I told them, she could not.
I think she said she was sorry several dozen times. Assuring her it was fine, I was just thanking the stars I'd never gotten so drunk that I ended up locked out in a public hallway wearing nothing but stripper gear.
Her story didn't really add up. She said that she and her boyfriend had gotten into an argument, and he locked her out. Then she called him her husband. I hadn't heard any banging on doors or pleading to get back in. I mean, you have to have no where else to turn to knock on a stranger's door buck naked at 2 a.m. on a Saturday night, you think she'd be banging on the door where he boyfriend/husband was.
I further questioned her story when she asked me if she'd brought her wallet. She'd hadn't. And besides, who gets kicked out wearing nothing but shoes, but brings along their wallet? Fishy.
Once I got confirmation that someone would be coming up to let her into her place, I noticed her hair was wet. Not soaking wet, but damp.
So very odd.
I told her that someone would be on the way up, and showed her to the door, and she almost forgot her shoes. I picked them up--nude, patent leather Jimmy Choos--and handed them over. "My Choos!," she yelped.
She looked me in the face for the first time. "I know it's a really trashy way to meet someone, but thank you."
I'm not sure we met as much as I bailed her naked ass out.
After she left, and I heard her safely (?) back in her apartment, I wanted to tell everyone I knew: THERE WAS A NAKED DRUNK CHICK IN MY HALLWAY WEARING HEELS AND A BRA AND THAT IS IT. But it was nearing 3 a.m., and no matter how juicy a tale, I wasn't going to wake anyone up for it.
So, I put it here.