the waiter, and the entire bar listened to him lecture the guy about the amount of rum he put in my drink. Not the bartender! Stares began to pity the boy, and some women drooled at the three men sitting at my table. I wanted to hide under the table; too much attention poured my way.
Perhaps alcohol played a part in my creative block, but the main problem with Mitch’s menus… I’d begun with the main problem which was that Mitch Knight—I repeated for the thousandth time—was in front of me. Two years, and I finally met him; Jake’s twin, best friend and partner in crime. Why was it a problem?
“You’d love Mitch if you met him. Liam isn’t as funny. He’s my opposite, but we’re the same. The two of you would connect so well,” Jake had repeated several times for the past two years.
Of course it was a figure of speech about meeting him because that would’ve made us…a real item. I didn’t want to meet his opposite; I would love the guy. No strings attached included no introducing the family.
In addition, I didn’t have one of those—family—to introduce the guy to unless we drove to the cemetery where we laid their ashes. That was the perfect place to meet the parents. It beat the hell out of any other introduction made in relationship history. No, hold on, I should backtrack. There wasn’t a relationship. Only casual sex; fuck buddies. The lines became blurry—to me—and I bailed before he kicked me to the curb for wanting more. The color of rejection stained like hell and was hard to remove—the hardware store didn’t carry any stain remover for such.
A new daiquiri appeared along with a bowl of fresh strawberries on the side. Was he insane? “Over” meant we don’t do nice things for each other, including ordering strawberries for the ex, fixing drinks, or injecting butterflies in the pit of her stomach. I took a bite of one strawberry and was sent to heaven. I just needed some sexual release and life would be better. “You must scratch my itch,” Jake would say when he surprised me with a visit. Romanticism wasn’t part of his superpowers.
“Emma, you ok?” Two years, we spent two years having sex, and obviously the over practiced Sex-God learned to perceive my moods and read my body language. I tried to design something for Mitch, but nothing came up. He tapped the pad. “Talk.”
“Jacob Knight.” I shook my head, we weren’t having one of those sessions where he tried to find out the reason behind my foul mood and finish with a mind blowing night cap. Where he sucked my sensitive parts and licked me until I screamed his name and ended up with him inside of me sending me to Nirvana. My brain fogged with urge so I took a couple of shallow breaths.
“Emma Anderson.” He gawked, understanding my entire reaction. “The alcohol and you aren’t agreeing.” The gentleman pushed a glass of water my way. He was, after all, one of the good guys. He shoved his emotions under the table and didn’t take advantage of my hunger because, like him, I could also feel his need. “Not the time for it. ”
I remembered when he begged and convinced me that it was always the time and place for it. Day, night, lunch, dinner, breakfast, midnight, office, plane, kitchen counter, breakfast nook, pool, Jacuzzi…so many places and times. How dare he say it wasn’t?
“Malory Horton.” Mitch broke the staring contest I had with the hand Jake kept holding. Certainly his brothers were one of the reasons why it wasn’t the time. Another reason, we weren’t together anymore. “She looked good for a week affair.”
Malory snatched an invitation to the major event thanks to her family. They were close to the Smiths. I saw her five year old boy today. He looked nothing like Tom or her. Malory “Whoreton” slept with all the football team—except Tom I always thought. I wondered why Tom didn’t marry the bitch after getting her pregnant. Stephanie, another unwanted pregnancy. I
Perhaps alcohol played a part in my creative block, but the main problem with Mitch’s menus… I’d begun with the main problem which was that Mitch Knight—I repeated for the thousandth time—was in front of me. Two years, and I finally met him; Jake’s twin, best friend and partner in crime. Why was it a problem?
“You’d love Mitch if you met him. Liam isn’t as funny. He’s my opposite, but we’re the same. The two of you would connect so well,” Jake had repeated several times for the past two years.
Of course it was a figure of speech about meeting him because that would’ve made us…a real item. I didn’t want to meet his opposite; I would love the guy. No strings attached included no introducing the family.
In addition, I didn’t have one of those—family—to introduce the guy to unless we drove to the cemetery where we laid their ashes. That was the perfect place to meet the parents. It beat the hell out of any other introduction made in relationship history. No, hold on, I should backtrack. There wasn’t a relationship. Only casual sex; fuck buddies. The lines became blurry—to me—and I bailed before he kicked me to the curb for wanting more. The color of rejection stained like hell and was hard to remove—the hardware store didn’t carry any stain remover for such.
A new daiquiri appeared along with a bowl of fresh strawberries on the side. Was he insane? “Over” meant we don’t do nice things for each other, including ordering strawberries for the ex, fixing drinks, or injecting butterflies in the pit of her stomach. I took a bite of one strawberry and was sent to heaven. I just needed some sexual release and life would be better. “You must scratch my itch,” Jake would say when he surprised me with a visit. Romanticism wasn’t part of his superpowers.
“Emma, you ok?” Two years, we spent two years having sex, and obviously the over practiced Sex-God learned to perceive my moods and read my body language. I tried to design something for Mitch, but nothing came up. He tapped the pad. “Talk.”
“Jacob Knight.” I shook my head, we weren’t having one of those sessions where he tried to find out the reason behind my foul mood and finish with a mind blowing night cap. Where he sucked my sensitive parts and licked me until I screamed his name and ended up with him inside of me sending me to Nirvana. My brain fogged with urge so I took a couple of shallow breaths.
“Emma Anderson.” He gawked, understanding my entire reaction. “The alcohol and you aren’t agreeing.” The gentleman pushed a glass of water my way. He was, after all, one of the good guys. He shoved his emotions under the table and didn’t take advantage of my hunger because, like him, I could also feel his need. “Not the time for it. ”
I remembered when he begged and convinced me that it was always the time and place for it. Day, night, lunch, dinner, breakfast, midnight, office, plane, kitchen counter, breakfast nook, pool, Jacuzzi…so many places and times. How dare he say it wasn’t?
“Malory Horton.” Mitch broke the staring contest I had with the hand Jake kept holding. Certainly his brothers were one of the reasons why it wasn’t the time. Another reason, we weren’t together anymore. “She looked good for a week affair.”
Malory snatched an invitation to the major event thanks to her family. They were close to the Smiths. I saw her five year old boy today. He looked nothing like Tom or her. Malory “Whoreton” slept with all the football team—except Tom I always thought. I wondered why Tom didn’t marry the bitch after getting her pregnant. Stephanie, another unwanted pregnancy. I
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