know what I mean. But every now and then, I get talked into stupid shit. I call them suicide days. I’d been having a lot more of them lately. So, who knows what I’d done in the name of love and the pursuit of happiness?
You know...a guy too cute, with too smooth a line seems like the thing to do, promises to take good care of me. I’m done with that, though. I’m going for one last true love--or freaking killing myself. I made my mind up on that while I padded around barefoot, looking for the bathroom. And some damn aspirin.
The whole place was open. A Grand Canyon apartment or something. Big square pillars, widely spaced, supported the open beamed ceiling. I’m not kidding. It was the size of all outdoors, and a freaking shoelace factory to boot. Gaia-damn. A girl could get lost in there. Fucking Montana, with skylights and everything.
It was kind of cool, though. Stark. Lots of running room. Nothing really to see. Certainly nothing personal to speak of. A lot of high-end stereo equipment and trendy furniture. Not a lot of breakables, that was for damn sure.
I glanced toward the bed. Obviously from the look of the crib, I’d gone home with a player.
That had me looking around a lot squintier. Ya know? Was I in a drug den? Or an arms magazine? What was this guy’s deal? I was almost afraid to touch anything until I found out.
Sure enough, venturing a little farther down the wide expanse of flooring, I spotted some homeys on the far end, passed out. His own troop of groupies. Shit. I backed up, looked for my damned clothes a little harder. When they weren’t readily evident, I settled for playa’s jersey. Yeah, I sniffed it. Smelled like him. Nice and spicy. Sex appeal in an underlying scent that made me swoon.
In fact, my eyes rolled up into my head with the ‘oh my Gaia’ scent. No wonder I’d gone home with him. Tiptoeing toward the bed, I lifted my nose to the air, did a few quick inhales. Oh, hell yeah. Freaking wolfy pheromones. Damn chick magnet shit. You can’t buy it. You can’t bottle it. I should’ve freaking turned tail and ran the minute I got wind of it.
There is no way in hell a guy with a scent like that is gonna be anything but a playa. Too many ladies falling at his feet. That thought made me disgusted with myself.
Just line up like all the other cheap bitches, Tee. Yeah, I talk to myself all the time. Pretty much hate it, too. But whatcha gonna do? Nobody else is being honest with me.
So, I finally found a bathroom. Wouldn’t you know it? Right close to the bed. Sliding mirrored door. First thing I did was rummage for some aspirin. Yeah, I don’t care that it was his personal space; my head was banging. Found some. Took eight. Scooped water in my hand until I got them down.
Then, I washed up quickly and quietly, ran a finger over my teeth and mumbled, “Damn girl, you got some dog breath.” That gave me the impetus to fish through the playa’s bathroom cabinet some more, to find some toothpaste and do it right. At least he had some. I’d been to guy’s apartments where there was no toothpaste to be had. Ick. Those were guaranteed ‘no repeats.’
Usually, I have some in my purse, but if I couldn’t find my clothes straight up, I figured that the search for my purse would take even longer. I usually stashed that under something--so homey types didn’t have fun with it, go through my stuff. Not that I carried much when I went out on the town. But, you know. Gotta have some deodorant, perfume, some make-up. Basics.
So, I’m not entirely stupid. I always carry--and use--spermicide, contraceptives. Freaking not taking a chance on that. Even though, I pretty much know my own cycle. Too many accidents happen, ya know? A girl’s gotta protect herself.
I know where the choice is, and since I choose not to abstain, I choose to be responsible up front...so I don’t
You know...a guy too cute, with too smooth a line seems like the thing to do, promises to take good care of me. I’m done with that, though. I’m going for one last true love--or freaking killing myself. I made my mind up on that while I padded around barefoot, looking for the bathroom. And some damn aspirin.
The whole place was open. A Grand Canyon apartment or something. Big square pillars, widely spaced, supported the open beamed ceiling. I’m not kidding. It was the size of all outdoors, and a freaking shoelace factory to boot. Gaia-damn. A girl could get lost in there. Fucking Montana, with skylights and everything.
It was kind of cool, though. Stark. Lots of running room. Nothing really to see. Certainly nothing personal to speak of. A lot of high-end stereo equipment and trendy furniture. Not a lot of breakables, that was for damn sure.
I glanced toward the bed. Obviously from the look of the crib, I’d gone home with a player.
That had me looking around a lot squintier. Ya know? Was I in a drug den? Or an arms magazine? What was this guy’s deal? I was almost afraid to touch anything until I found out.
Sure enough, venturing a little farther down the wide expanse of flooring, I spotted some homeys on the far end, passed out. His own troop of groupies. Shit. I backed up, looked for my damned clothes a little harder. When they weren’t readily evident, I settled for playa’s jersey. Yeah, I sniffed it. Smelled like him. Nice and spicy. Sex appeal in an underlying scent that made me swoon.
In fact, my eyes rolled up into my head with the ‘oh my Gaia’ scent. No wonder I’d gone home with him. Tiptoeing toward the bed, I lifted my nose to the air, did a few quick inhales. Oh, hell yeah. Freaking wolfy pheromones. Damn chick magnet shit. You can’t buy it. You can’t bottle it. I should’ve freaking turned tail and ran the minute I got wind of it.
There is no way in hell a guy with a scent like that is gonna be anything but a playa. Too many ladies falling at his feet. That thought made me disgusted with myself.
Just line up like all the other cheap bitches, Tee. Yeah, I talk to myself all the time. Pretty much hate it, too. But whatcha gonna do? Nobody else is being honest with me.
So, I finally found a bathroom. Wouldn’t you know it? Right close to the bed. Sliding mirrored door. First thing I did was rummage for some aspirin. Yeah, I don’t care that it was his personal space; my head was banging. Found some. Took eight. Scooped water in my hand until I got them down.
Then, I washed up quickly and quietly, ran a finger over my teeth and mumbled, “Damn girl, you got some dog breath.” That gave me the impetus to fish through the playa’s bathroom cabinet some more, to find some toothpaste and do it right. At least he had some. I’d been to guy’s apartments where there was no toothpaste to be had. Ick. Those were guaranteed ‘no repeats.’
Usually, I have some in my purse, but if I couldn’t find my clothes straight up, I figured that the search for my purse would take even longer. I usually stashed that under something--so homey types didn’t have fun with it, go through my stuff. Not that I carried much when I went out on the town. But, you know. Gotta have some deodorant, perfume, some make-up. Basics.
So, I’m not entirely stupid. I always carry--and use--spermicide, contraceptives. Freaking not taking a chance on that. Even though, I pretty much know my own cycle. Too many accidents happen, ya know? A girl’s gotta protect herself.
I know where the choice is, and since I choose not to abstain, I choose to be responsible up front...so I don’t
Similar Books
