he saw me checking in.”
“What was
he
doing here?” I asked. “Probably the same thing.”
“He was having lunch at the restaurant downstairs, actually.”
“So what did you tell him?”
“That I needed to take a nap.”
“Oh, that’s an awful excuse. You should have just told him the truth, if he thinks you’re up to something anyway. He probably would have been more impressed.”
Fred unlocked the door to our room and let me in ahead of him.
“Have you thought about getting your own apartment?” he asked. “It would be better if we could meet someplace private.”
I had wanted to get my own place ever since I moved to DC, but I could never save any money. Even with all the extra income that Fred provided, I never had more than a few hundred dollars in my bank account.
As I undressed, I told him about my money woes and my mean roommate who was making my life miserable. Then I turned on the tears.
“Just find a nice place, and I’ll write you a check,” he promised.
It worked every time. I didn’t even need to ask. I kissed and hugged him to show him how grateful I was, then he carried me over to the bed and took it out in trade.
Because I was worth it.
WHEN I GOT BACK TO THE Locker Room, my officemates complained that my phone had been ringing nonstop while I was out. I checked my voice mail, but there was only one message. It was from Dan, who wanted to go out to lunch this afternoon, but he was too late.
The phone rang again, but I didn’t recognize the number on my caller ID, so I didn’t pick up. Following a hunch that I had, I looked up Dan’s number in the Senate directory, and it was a match.
He called back a few times that afternoon without leaving any messages. I guess he didn’t want to look desperate. Too bad he didn’t know that I had caller ID, so I knew how crazy about me he really was.
This went on all week long. (My officemates wanted to kill me.) I didn’t want to answer the phone because I didn’t know how to act toward Dan. At first, I thought that he only wanted to use me for sex, which was fine with me since the feeling was mutual. I mean, all that raunchy behavior sort of set the tone.
But what was up with all of these phone calls? Fuck buddies weren’t supposed to sweat you that hard. It seemed as though Dan might actually
like
me.
I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO figure this guy out, especially now that I was in the middle of an apartment search. I found a newly finished English basement near Eastern Market, clean and freshly painted, unlike all the other places I had seen. I was tired of looking at dumpy studios with dirty floors and ugly kitchen cabinets, so I took it right away, even though there was no way I could afford it on my own. But this pretty one-bedroom fit the lifestyle I imagined for myself so much better, and I had both Fred and Phillip wrapped around my pretty little finger.
Of course, I had terrible credit, so I convinced Phillip to sign the lease during one of our preintercourse cocktail hours at his place. Sure, he was drunk and horny, and it was probably wrong to take advantage of him the way I did, but if he really cared about me, he would have signed it anyway, right?
Moving was easy since I didn’t have any furniture of my own. Fred actually got away from his wife for a few hours to help me pick up my new bed in his SUV. He told her that he was playing eighteen holes up at Burning Bush that afternoon.
I guess that was why so many men took up golf: It gave them an excuse to get away from their wives and run errands with their girlfriends.
April didn’t know whether to be happy that I was finally moving out of her apartment or pissed that I was doing so on such short notice. Women! I don’t know how men put up with us.
Oh, that’s right:
sex.
Otherwise, what good were we?
“Maybe now that I’m moving out of your apartment, you can ask Tom to move in,” I suggested to April over lunch.
“Get this,” she said, “he says he’s
“What was
he
doing here?” I asked. “Probably the same thing.”
“He was having lunch at the restaurant downstairs, actually.”
“So what did you tell him?”
“That I needed to take a nap.”
“Oh, that’s an awful excuse. You should have just told him the truth, if he thinks you’re up to something anyway. He probably would have been more impressed.”
Fred unlocked the door to our room and let me in ahead of him.
“Have you thought about getting your own apartment?” he asked. “It would be better if we could meet someplace private.”
I had wanted to get my own place ever since I moved to DC, but I could never save any money. Even with all the extra income that Fred provided, I never had more than a few hundred dollars in my bank account.
As I undressed, I told him about my money woes and my mean roommate who was making my life miserable. Then I turned on the tears.
“Just find a nice place, and I’ll write you a check,” he promised.
It worked every time. I didn’t even need to ask. I kissed and hugged him to show him how grateful I was, then he carried me over to the bed and took it out in trade.
Because I was worth it.
WHEN I GOT BACK TO THE Locker Room, my officemates complained that my phone had been ringing nonstop while I was out. I checked my voice mail, but there was only one message. It was from Dan, who wanted to go out to lunch this afternoon, but he was too late.
The phone rang again, but I didn’t recognize the number on my caller ID, so I didn’t pick up. Following a hunch that I had, I looked up Dan’s number in the Senate directory, and it was a match.
He called back a few times that afternoon without leaving any messages. I guess he didn’t want to look desperate. Too bad he didn’t know that I had caller ID, so I knew how crazy about me he really was.
This went on all week long. (My officemates wanted to kill me.) I didn’t want to answer the phone because I didn’t know how to act toward Dan. At first, I thought that he only wanted to use me for sex, which was fine with me since the feeling was mutual. I mean, all that raunchy behavior sort of set the tone.
But what was up with all of these phone calls? Fuck buddies weren’t supposed to sweat you that hard. It seemed as though Dan might actually
like
me.
I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO figure this guy out, especially now that I was in the middle of an apartment search. I found a newly finished English basement near Eastern Market, clean and freshly painted, unlike all the other places I had seen. I was tired of looking at dumpy studios with dirty floors and ugly kitchen cabinets, so I took it right away, even though there was no way I could afford it on my own. But this pretty one-bedroom fit the lifestyle I imagined for myself so much better, and I had both Fred and Phillip wrapped around my pretty little finger.
Of course, I had terrible credit, so I convinced Phillip to sign the lease during one of our preintercourse cocktail hours at his place. Sure, he was drunk and horny, and it was probably wrong to take advantage of him the way I did, but if he really cared about me, he would have signed it anyway, right?
Moving was easy since I didn’t have any furniture of my own. Fred actually got away from his wife for a few hours to help me pick up my new bed in his SUV. He told her that he was playing eighteen holes up at Burning Bush that afternoon.
I guess that was why so many men took up golf: It gave them an excuse to get away from their wives and run errands with their girlfriends.
April didn’t know whether to be happy that I was finally moving out of her apartment or pissed that I was doing so on such short notice. Women! I don’t know how men put up with us.
Oh, that’s right:
sex.
Otherwise, what good were we?
“Maybe now that I’m moving out of your apartment, you can ask Tom to move in,” I suggested to April over lunch.
“Get this,” she said, “he says he’s
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