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Authors: Julia Kent
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the room.
As she looked around his bedroom, she started to notice pictures.
Pictures of Dylan with a woman on the beach holding surfboards, a woman in a
stringed bikini, and then another picture of the same woman in a sport bikini
playing beach volleyball. And then another of what looked like the same
woman standing at the ski slope along with another man. Yet another picture of
the same woman on the snowboard doing some sort of flip in mid air.
What the fuck? Her heart started to pound. This was all wrong.
He was definitely – this was just some one nightstand. Was that his
wife? His girlfriend? Who? Every insecurity flooded her, everything fearful
poured into her, and here she stood completely naked standing in the moonlight,
staring over this guy who had just given her the best four hours she had had in
years.
It was all a lie. A big, fat lie.
She scrambled to find her thong, her skirt, her sweater, her bra
– where was it? Found it somewhere across the room hanging off of a
doorknob of a closet.
Had they really been that, uh, acrobatic ? Apparently. As the
feelings all merged into one big bundle of sheer fright, she found herself
flooded with shame – shame and despair. And most of all a massive
adrenaline rush that just kept screaming, get out, get out, get out, get
out, get out now .
She tiptoed, holding on to the straps of her heels, making sure she had
her purse, her scrunchie pulling her hair together quickly so she didn’t look
quite as ridiculous as she felt as she handled the walk of shame, clicking the
door as quietly as possible.
The hallway was empty as she tread gingerly down the stairs in her
stocking feet and then finally found herself outside in the cool night air, the
streetlamps illuminating the path back home. Fortunately, there were cabs
floating around at 3:30 in the morning now and she grabbed one, completely
ignoring every comment that the cabbie made, hoping like hell he could read the
fact that she had leaned back against the backseat and closed her eyes, wanting
to be left alone.
Alone was safer.
Laura used every spare molecule of energy and focus to still her heart,
to calm it back down to where it belonged, in the normal, boring, slow pace
she’d experienced before the whirlwind of Dylan. She should have known it was
too good to be true. Every damn moment of it. He just wanted a piece of meat on
the side. A big piece of meat. A little variety was the spice of life,
right? Her body was so different from his girlfriend’s, a sleek, muscled, athletic
sculpting she couldn’t imagine.
Damn, damn, damn – here came the tears. They weren’t the
great big heaving sobs that she felt after dating someone for months and then
realizing that it just wasn’t working. This was more the scalding tears of
reproach, of the fact that she should have known better, and of a bit of
giddiness that she’d gotten something more than she’d expected out of the
evening.
Dinner and mind-blowing sex was great, but apparently what she had just
had with him was all she was going to have, because he was clearly involved
with whoever that woman was and that woman had a bod that went on for miles.
Damn, if she had 10 percent body fat, Laura would be amazed. And if that was
his type, what was Laura? Just some cow he decided he’d grab onto for the hell
of it, trolling some dating site. Whatever.
The screech of the cab’s brakes told her it was time and then boom – she felt the car jerk to a stop. She handed the cabbie enough of a tip
to make herself feel good and to make him grin, and to wish her a good night, a
good morning, a good whatever. As she headed up to her apartment her shoes
vibrated like a gong, click, click, click, her legs propelling her on on
very weak heels, very tired calves, very tired everything . Mind, body
and soul.
She peeled off her outfit, poured herself into her big oversized
flannel pajamas, and just crawled into bed to sleep the sleep of the
conflicted.
***
Dylan was
As she looked around his bedroom, she started to notice pictures.
Pictures of Dylan with a woman on the beach holding surfboards, a woman in a
stringed bikini, and then another picture of the same woman in a sport bikini
playing beach volleyball. And then another of what looked like the same
woman standing at the ski slope along with another man. Yet another picture of
the same woman on the snowboard doing some sort of flip in mid air.
What the fuck? Her heart started to pound. This was all wrong.
He was definitely – this was just some one nightstand. Was that his
wife? His girlfriend? Who? Every insecurity flooded her, everything fearful
poured into her, and here she stood completely naked standing in the moonlight,
staring over this guy who had just given her the best four hours she had had in
years.
It was all a lie. A big, fat lie.
She scrambled to find her thong, her skirt, her sweater, her bra
– where was it? Found it somewhere across the room hanging off of a
doorknob of a closet.
Had they really been that, uh, acrobatic ? Apparently. As the
feelings all merged into one big bundle of sheer fright, she found herself
flooded with shame – shame and despair. And most of all a massive
adrenaline rush that just kept screaming, get out, get out, get out, get
out, get out now .
She tiptoed, holding on to the straps of her heels, making sure she had
her purse, her scrunchie pulling her hair together quickly so she didn’t look
quite as ridiculous as she felt as she handled the walk of shame, clicking the
door as quietly as possible.
The hallway was empty as she tread gingerly down the stairs in her
stocking feet and then finally found herself outside in the cool night air, the
streetlamps illuminating the path back home. Fortunately, there were cabs
floating around at 3:30 in the morning now and she grabbed one, completely
ignoring every comment that the cabbie made, hoping like hell he could read the
fact that she had leaned back against the backseat and closed her eyes, wanting
to be left alone.
Alone was safer.
Laura used every spare molecule of energy and focus to still her heart,
to calm it back down to where it belonged, in the normal, boring, slow pace
she’d experienced before the whirlwind of Dylan. She should have known it was
too good to be true. Every damn moment of it. He just wanted a piece of meat on
the side. A big piece of meat. A little variety was the spice of life,
right? Her body was so different from his girlfriend’s, a sleek, muscled, athletic
sculpting she couldn’t imagine.
Damn, damn, damn – here came the tears. They weren’t the
great big heaving sobs that she felt after dating someone for months and then
realizing that it just wasn’t working. This was more the scalding tears of
reproach, of the fact that she should have known better, and of a bit of
giddiness that she’d gotten something more than she’d expected out of the
evening.
Dinner and mind-blowing sex was great, but apparently what she had just
had with him was all she was going to have, because he was clearly involved
with whoever that woman was and that woman had a bod that went on for miles.
Damn, if she had 10 percent body fat, Laura would be amazed. And if that was
his type, what was Laura? Just some cow he decided he’d grab onto for the hell
of it, trolling some dating site. Whatever.
The screech of the cab’s brakes told her it was time and then boom – she felt the car jerk to a stop. She handed the cabbie enough of a tip
to make herself feel good and to make him grin, and to wish her a good night, a
good morning, a good whatever. As she headed up to her apartment her shoes
vibrated like a gong, click, click, click, her legs propelling her on on
very weak heels, very tired calves, very tired everything . Mind, body
and soul.
She peeled off her outfit, poured herself into her big oversized
flannel pajamas, and just crawled into bed to sleep the sleep of the
conflicted.
***
Dylan was
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