I debated calling in sick but in the end I knew I couldn't get away with it. I was fresh out of college and still owed a ton in student debts, not to mention car payments. As it was I barely scraped by each month. With a sigh I reluctantly went to the shower to get ready.
The next three weeks went by blandly. After that morning everything else seemed like it was boring. My boyfriend of the time was a very sweet guy with chiselled muscles, but as handsome as he was our lovemaking never came close to the orgasmic heights of that morning. In fact, I never reached orgasm with him at all. Or, for that matter, any of my other boyfriends.
"I'm sick of it!" Josh, or maybe his name was John, yelled on the final day of our relationship. "You just lie there like a fish! And what's with always making me wear a condom? You're on the fucking pill, for God's sake!"
Other words were said, but the end result was the same. He stormed out and I let him.
"Frigid? Condom? Passive? I don't remember you being lack that when I fucked you," a voice said, and I whirled in my door. Standing across the hall was one of the men from that morning. I'd never really given him a nickname, but when I thought of him from our two previous encounters 'The Bastard' was what came to mind.
"Shut up! She'll hear you!" I hissed, trying to look around him.
"She's got the headphones on while she paints her nails in the bedroom," he said, reaching out for me. |