“Hey. Excuse me. You need to leave now.”
He stirred, made a little snore, and turned over.
In my bed. Which he needed to get out of. Immediately.
So, I poked him. Not as hard as I wanted to, but it worked. He grunted and opened an eye, slowly pushing himself up on one elbow and looking around the room—my room—like he wasn’t sure where he was.
My hook-up from the night before peered at me, where I stood hovering in my bathrobe, like he expected me to hand him a cup of coffee.
Don’t think so.
“Hey,” I tried again, “I’m getting in the shower. Please be out of here before I am done. I have a busy day ahead.”
His sandy blond hair stuck up in every direction. What was it about guys and bedhead? For a moment I wished I had more time… but I didn’t.
Bewilderment washed over his handsome face. “B… but didn’t you… I mean, didn’t we… you know, have fun?”
Ugh. Just like a guy. Always fishing for compliments when it came to their sexual prowess. And now I had to either soothe him or be a huge bitch and tell him he needed some practice.
Which would be just plain mean, especially since he actually had been pretty good in the sack—actually, very good in the sack—but you didn’t see me asking for reassurance that my cock-sucking skills were up to par.
“T… Tony, it was a lot of fun. Now, I’m running into the shower. You have a good day. Oh, please don’t wake up my stepsister on the way out and feel free to grab a bagel. I think they’re on the counter.”
I also thought they were stale, but it was the thought that counts.
I patted him on the arm and left, fairly confident he’d get his ass out of my bed pretty damn fast if he had any pride at all.
Which I was pretty sure he did.
A guy as good looking as Tony—or whatever his name was—usually had plenty of pride. In fact, too much. I knew the type. They walked around, blessed by the universe with their good looks and charm, expecting crowds to part every time they walked into a room.
Not so fast. Personally, I didn’t fall for that shit.
I’d only fucked Tony-or-whatever-his-name-was because I was on the rebound. And I think I’d gotten it out of my system. At least I hoped so. One-nighters were kind of stressful.
First, there was the anxiety of bringing a stranger home. I’d taken a photo of T—I’d just call him that—and sent it to my BFF Jenni so that if, god forbid, I ended up missing, she’d have something to take to the police. Then, there was the issue of condoms. What if the guy wanted to be a dick about wearing one?
And last, what if he didn’t eat pussy? That would be a total non-starter for me. A dude pulls that with me, and he gets kicked out so damn fast he won’t know what hit him.
But there were no such problems with this guy. At least there wouldn’t be if he hit the road like I asked him to before I finished my shower.
Jenni was going to be so proud. Ever since I’d dumped Joey, the last creep I’d dated, she’d been bugging me to ‘ho out’ as she called it. ‘Sow my wild oats,’ she also liked to say, by embarking on a hot but meaningless booty binge to remind myself that there were other dudes out there who would find me attractive and who were ten times better than the loser ex.
The loser ex, who was always on to ‘the next big thing,’ as he put it, sure to bring him riches beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. He’d almost gotten my dad to invest in one of his schemes, convincing him that the world needed a better metal detector. He came up with a way to install them in a pair of flip flops so that if you walked on the beach and they started screeching, you could drop to your knees and start digging for your buried treasure right then and there.
The project never got off the ground, and fortunately, my father was saved a lot of money. When my ex had gone for a patent, it turned out someone had beaten him to the idea.
That was a sad day for Joey because he had no backup plan.
But I did. And that was to tell him it was over. Actually, it had been over for a while. In addition to being a crummy inventor, he was also a crummy human being.
My shower finished, I peeked out of the bathroom to make sure T was gone. My room was empty, thank god, so I slipped down to the front door just to make sure his car was gone, too.
The coast was clear.
I bounded back up the stairs, in a hurry to get to work. My stepsister was probably already there, ready to bitch me out for being late.
Again.
As I hustled to leave eight minutes later, I saw in a pile of mail next to the front door a postcard from my dad and stepmom, on safari in Africa.
I tucked it in my purse to read later.
