“Rehearsal dinner.”
I toss my football up in the air as he scours his appearance.
“Who’s getting married?”
“A friend of a friend. What’s it to you?”
I groan in frustration. “Jesus. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“You don’t,” he says, brushing his lapel, “I’m over it.”
“You serious?” He seems just as surprised as I am that the words left his mouth.
“I mean, I don’t want to hug it out with you, but yeah, I’m completely over her. I’ve got something much better going on.”
“That so?”
“It’s so. Just do me a favor and start vetting before you bring anyone else here. Not that I have any more exes. But let me make one thing clear, I don’t want yours, and I don’t want you ever taking a second look at mine.”
“Got it. I’m not going to…see her again.” I don’t bother telling him I’m turning over a new leaf where the ladies are concerned. There’s no point. Nobody believes shit when it comes to me. Except for the woman I can’t seem to stop daydreaming about, and even then, the benefit of the doubt is hard-earned. I’m still pissed at her for holding out on Dante, but I can’t fault her for being cautious.
Time and patience. Relieved I won’t have to walk on eggshells anymore, I stand and pull out my wallet to hand Theo some past due rent.
“For what I owe you.”
He takes the money as I grab my duffle.
“Where are you going?”
“A few guys are headed to Shreveport this weekend. I’m going to check it out. Lance left a note on the fridge that he’s out until Tuesday, so the house is all yours.”
“Nice.”
Kevin, my old roommate, and two others from my team pull up and honk just as I reach the door. “Later.”
“Later, man.”
I look back at him as he straightens himself one last time. “We good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
I jog down to the SUV, dropping my duffle. I’ve convinced myself between the responsibilities of ball, work, school, being a parent, and Clarissa’s constant rejection, I deserve a few days off to just…be. It’s my senior year, and I need to take advantage of it before it’s over. But nothing about leaving is sitting right with me. I glance back at Clarissa’s house, anxious to see if she’s heard from Dante.
“Give me two minutes.”
Kevin scrolls through his phone from the front seat. “Two.”
I knock and get no answer. Cracking open the door, I knock soundly again, calling her name and get no response. Walking through the living room, I see the TV muted and an empty wine glass. Apparently, Mommy has been relaxing. Chuckling, I peek my head into the bedroom to see Clarissa on her back, in nothing but a cami and skimpy purple panties, her Mac slanted on her lap. She looks so fucking sexy. I have to fight the urge to wake her up with my head between her legs. I’d lick her over the panties first. That’s how I’d start it, leading with my tongue. It’s when I see the Womanizer Parker gave her inches away, that I realize she’s passed out post-orgasm.
Instantly I’m hard.
“Fuck,” I breathe out as her perfect chest rises and falls, her mouth slightly parted. “Fuck you, life,” I mumble as I situate her on the bed. Her screen lights up from the movement, and I glance at it curiously to see the contents of her spank bank. I damn near wake her up with my laugh when I see what’s written on the screen.
It’s a product review of her sex toy.
#goodconsumer90
I’m deducting a star for the name alone because nothing so pleasurable should come with such baggage. And that’s what being with a womanizer entails, baggage. So, what if this model is pretty to look at, has the build of a god and can pleasure you for hours on end? There are less glossy, lower-priced models just as capable of getting the job done without leaving you feeling like a used sack of hormones. I’m currently with the lower-priced, less risky model. And why shouldn’t I be? The womanizer must be kept in check constantly, so that future models have a clear path on how to treat a woman. This is about a pleasurable epiphany, and letting go, right? A safe and effective way of reaching one’s peak without any of the guilt or expectations. But how can one successfully do this if they’re continua