"Hold on, let me get the lights," you hear a voice say."Hold on, let me get the lights," you hear a voice say. Suddenly, bright overhead lights come on, exposing the entire loft. You walk in and look around. David is standing there, smiling. "You must be Trish," he says. "Uh, yeah. You must be David," you reply, slightly uncomfortable. David is about six feet tall, a good eight inches taller than you. He has short black curly hair and a young but weatherbeaten face that has crinkles at the eyes and mouth. You can tell that he laughs a lot. He has a well toned and muscled body; you can see his wide chest straining at the black commando's sweater he's wearing. He has on a baggy pair of black fatigue trousers. His bare feet even look strong; his toes grip the floor as he walks. The loft studio is much nicer than you expected, given the looks of the building outside. The front of the loft is obviously David's apartment. The kitchen is set aside from the rest of the room by a wrap-around countertop. It sits to the right of the door. The door itself is halfway between the front and back walls. The furniture is comfortable and modern. There is a long couch that surrounds a coffee table in front of a fireplace. The entire front wall is glass, looking out over the city. On the far wall is a raised platform with steps leading up to it. On top of the platform, which sits six feet high, is a waterbed. |