I had looked for a night out with my mates to distract myself from Daphne. But all they wanted was for me to get them into the club. And all these birds want now is to tell their friends that they’ve been with me.
Fuck, a little late to discover how fucking shallow this is, isn’t it?
This life isn’t working for me anymore. It isn’t getting thoughts I didn’t want to think of out of my head. I looked at the sluts and expected it would be easy to fuck the feelings out. But I can’t do it. I’m not feeling anything for them.
I need to go.
"Listen, ladies," I say, clearly exasperated. "I'm having a bit of an early night tonight. Have to behave."
"Why?" Carrie asks.
"Don’t want to get in trouble with the law, love," I say, drawn into the hint of a conversation. “Besides, I can’t get the thought of another bird I met out of my head – I’m just not in the mood tonight, I guess.”
"Can I come home with you?" she asks.
And there it goes. Boom. Why would I take back home when I just fucking said I was hung up on another bird and not in the fucking mood? Even if there had been no Daphne, I wasn’t taking her home. Ever.
"No," I say, basically figuring a question like that only deserves a one-word answer.
"Can I?" Anya asks, her face lighting up.
What the fuck? She thinks because I didn't take her friend, she now has a better chance?
I sigh and take a large drink of my scotch.
I know what you're going to say to me, okay? Not every girl is like this. There's some with great personalities. I know what you're going to say. And a few days ago, I would have said that any girl that comes near me with whatever personality and brains is going to want to fuck me and is going to forget everything else.
But then I fucking met Daphne. She’s got more fucking class and sense in her fucking finger than all of these girls combined.
"Do you want to fuck me?" the girl called Anya asks me, batting her eyelashes.
At least Dee is a bit more reserved. She just brings her fist to her mouth and makes a blowjob motion, then smiles at me.
I sigh. Even if I did want to fuck, it wouldn’t do anything for what’s going on in my head. I’d just feel worse. Like I cheated on Daphne. I had come here to forget about her. It wasn’t working.
"Listen, ladies, I'm out," I say. "Help yourself to the booze."
They look at me with sad eyes, but I know, just like real birds, they'll forget about it in the next few moments.
At least I fucking hope so.
Welcome to my fucking fabulous life. Fuck me.
God, I can’t fucking wait to see Daphne again.
I get home and decide I need a fucking shower.
My cock is hard thinking of Daphne non-stop by the time I walk into my massive shower and turn the gold-plated knobs. Fuck it, I think and grab my cock.
I’m thinking of Daphne as I stroke my pole and it doesn’t take long before I’m coating the walls of my shower with my thick cum.
But the moment I get out, the phone rings. It’s Daphne. At 2 am. Speak of the fucking devil.
“Little late for you, love,” I say into the phone with a smile, falling down on the couch like a fucking lovesick 16-year-old. “Want me to come over?”
If you can hear eyes being rolled, that’s what it sounds like. But after that, she says quite clearly, “I really don’t want to be..uhm…stripping for the rest of my life.” Good. This was fucking progress. “If you can help me, I can help you.”
“Excellent,” I say aloud. This was the happiest I’d been since she’d left.