Me: Something I’d rather be doing after being undressed.
Jude: Get undressed then.
Me: Boring to undress myself. I’d rather be undressed by someone.
Jude: Someone specific?
Me: What do you think?
Jude: Is this you saying the offer hasn’t expired?
Me: Maybe…
Jude: If it’s still on the table, I’ll be there in 20.
Me: Get over here.
I blink at my screen after I send it. Yes! He’s coming. He’s coming and then I’ll be coming.
I look down at my crotch. “We are getting laid tonight. Thank you for being such a shameless tart.”
This is probably a mistake. Not probably. Certainly. But I’m drunk and horny, and I’ll do what I try to never do – let myself figure the rest out later.
I dash to my closet and change out of my marshmallow Peeps onesie with the built-in feet and a trap door over the butt. This is not what I want to be divested of when Jude arrives.
***
He shows twenty minutes later, on the dot, and here’s how it goes…
There’s a rap on the door that has me gliding across the room, knowing it’s him. I almost float there, buzzed on vodka coolers and the high of knowing I’m going to have sex, feeling warm all over.
It’s a good thing I’ve been busy getting a super-quick shower, then getting dolled up and listening to music the past twenty minutes. I turned it on to quiet the noises in my head, worried that they’d tell me to hide in my secret nook and not answer the door when he gets here.
It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning and my momma said nothing good happens after midnight, but here I am, about to get something good.
I can’t believe I’ve done this – instigated a booty call. With my enemy.
Or that’s who he’s got to be. And he’ll be that again tomorrow.
I’ve given myself a whole talking-to about this thing that’s about to go down. One night. Get him out of my system. Get out of his system. Well, if I was no longer in his phone maybe I wasn’t still in his system, but he has certainly taken up residence in mine. Sex should help purge him from my bloodstream. I’ll give myself a good talking-to tomorrow when I’m sobered up.
And then I’ll commit myself to a vow of celibacy. For sure.
I peep through the peep hole because despite what my vagina wants and regardless of the fact that I knew he was on his way and is knocking exactly twenty minutes after he said he’d be twenty minutes, I know better than to open a door blindly without knowing who is on the other side. The last time I did that, Not Dick Tracy shouldered his way in and my life imploded.
I see Jude there looking cool, looking collected, but shooting some sort of aphrodisiac straight out of his eyes through the peep hole. The heat emanating from my crotch feels like it’s melting my underwear as I twist the lock, remove the chain, and twist the deadbolt. After pulling the door open I take in the sight before me.
“Well hello,” I greet, leaning against my door with it open enough for him to slide in, but only open just enough.
He slides in, looking down at me as he does and the smell coming off him is insanely scrumptious. Part cinnamon gum, part fresh rain. All alpha male. What a combo.
He flashes a beautiful smile, and my heart dances a little soft-shoe jig.
Jude is in a black leather jacket, a textured cream-colored button-down flannel, black jeans that are a few washes away from being closer to grey than black, and scuffed, dirty motorcycle boots.
I don’t know if his hair is wet from the rain if he rode his Harley or if he took a shower before he drove over in his SUV, but I do know from our previous date that he lives nearby in what he described as a converted industrial loft-like place and just knowing that – it sounds like a sex lair I’d never want to leave, so I’m glad this booty call is here instead of there.
I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he likes what he sees.
I’m in a black crushed velvet dress with a corset laced front and thigh high black sparkled socks on. Underneath, I’m wearing a barely there black thong with the same sparkles. The dress ends three inches above where the socks begin, so there’s skin to look at. And I’m not a girl with big boobs, I’m a longstanding member of the itty-bitty titty committee, barely a B-cup, but his eyes do go to my cleavage. I’m wearing a highly effective push-up bra with a touch of padding. And the corset helps, too.
My hair is currently pink, just past my collar bones with a sideswept bang, and I’ve got heavy black eye makeup on with lipstick that almost matches my hair.