waking up next to Beatriz. After one last kiss she’d shooed him out of her room, claiming she’d never stop molesting him and get to sleep if he didn’t go, scoot and vamoose.
“This is supposed to convince me to leave?” he’d asked.
The pillow she threw at him convinced him to leave.
Now that morning had come and Ben lay alone in his hotel room bed he could do nothing but stare up at the ceiling. Stare and wonder…
“This is a bad idea,” he said aloud to the empty room. “Isn’t it?” he asked and waited for an answer. “She’s in D.C. now. I’m in L.A. That’s a good sign, right? That we both live in towns known by their initials?”
Ben exhaled heavily.
“I’m an idiot. And this is a terrible idea, Ben,” he told himself. He felt that by speaking the words out loud there might be a shot at him taking his own advice. “You didn’t want this, remember? You didn’t want to get serious with someone so soon. You have a great job and a great life. You’re not a broke college kid anymore. Things are good. Why complicate things with some kind of long-distance relationship?”
A good question. A great question. One Ben made the mistake of answering.
“Because Bea is beautiful, and she’s smart, and she’s sexy as hell and funny and amazing…And you’re not a broke college kid anymore. You have a real job now. You can afford a long-distance relationship. And complicated? What the fuck is complicated about being with an amazing woman like Bea? Nothing. You just did it. Right?” Ben asked himself.
Right .
Ben started to get up. He paused, looked at the clock and rolled back down again.
“She said it was just work,” he reminded himself. “Did she mean that or is she doing the ‘I don’t want to get hurt again by you, you asshole’ thing? Which I deserve.”
Ben did deserve it. He’d been so single-minded about getting a good job after college that he didn’t even let himself consider having a serious relationship back then. Nothing was going to get in the way of him and his ticket to freedom. Not even Beatriz.
But things were different now. He had the career, had the freedom. Now maybe if he played his cards right, he could have Beatriz, too.
“When I said I was done with all women for at least a year,” he addressed himself, “I meant all women but Beatriz. I just didn’t specify that at the time.”
At that moment his phone buzzed. He picked it up and smiled at the text message from Beatriz. It read, What are you wearing?
Ben, as usual, had slept naked.
Leather chaps , he wrote back. And a clown nose. Don’t ask .
What are you doing? Beatriz texted.
Soliloquizing , which Autocorrect tried to change to “solo quizzing.” Ben changed it back.
Is that what they’re calling it now? We used to call it masturbating .
I masturbate with a Shakespearean accent , Ben replied. I have no idea what that means .
Me neither. Want a blow job in the shower?
Business or pleasure? Ben wrote back before adding a vital caveat. Never mind. My cock just told me it doesn’t care why. Coming .
Yes. Yes you are , Beatriz responded.
Ben pulled on yesterday’s pants and yesterday’s shirt and didn’t bother with yesterday’s underwear, yesterday’s shoes or yesterday’s socks. He did brush his teeth, which was as much for his benefit as Beatriz’s. In five minutes he was pounding on her door.
“That was fast,” she said, holding the door open for him. She had nothing on but a towel.
“I didn’t want to miss you blowing me in the shower. I’m not late, am I?” He started unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’m not even in the shower yet.”
“Then hurry up,” he said, throwing his shirt off. “You’re late.”
Ben stepped into the shower and Beatriz joined him. He wrapped Beatriz in his wet arms and kissed her hard and deep. She tasted like toothpaste and heat. He pushed her under the shower, soaking them both as he drank the water off her lips and neck.
“I didn’t get
“This is supposed to convince me to leave?” he’d asked.
The pillow she threw at him convinced him to leave.
Now that morning had come and Ben lay alone in his hotel room bed he could do nothing but stare up at the ceiling. Stare and wonder…
“This is a bad idea,” he said aloud to the empty room. “Isn’t it?” he asked and waited for an answer. “She’s in D.C. now. I’m in L.A. That’s a good sign, right? That we both live in towns known by their initials?”
Ben exhaled heavily.
“I’m an idiot. And this is a terrible idea, Ben,” he told himself. He felt that by speaking the words out loud there might be a shot at him taking his own advice. “You didn’t want this, remember? You didn’t want to get serious with someone so soon. You have a great job and a great life. You’re not a broke college kid anymore. Things are good. Why complicate things with some kind of long-distance relationship?”
A good question. A great question. One Ben made the mistake of answering.
“Because Bea is beautiful, and she’s smart, and she’s sexy as hell and funny and amazing…And you’re not a broke college kid anymore. You have a real job now. You can afford a long-distance relationship. And complicated? What the fuck is complicated about being with an amazing woman like Bea? Nothing. You just did it. Right?” Ben asked himself.
Right .
Ben started to get up. He paused, looked at the clock and rolled back down again.
“She said it was just work,” he reminded himself. “Did she mean that or is she doing the ‘I don’t want to get hurt again by you, you asshole’ thing? Which I deserve.”
Ben did deserve it. He’d been so single-minded about getting a good job after college that he didn’t even let himself consider having a serious relationship back then. Nothing was going to get in the way of him and his ticket to freedom. Not even Beatriz.
But things were different now. He had the career, had the freedom. Now maybe if he played his cards right, he could have Beatriz, too.
“When I said I was done with all women for at least a year,” he addressed himself, “I meant all women but Beatriz. I just didn’t specify that at the time.”
At that moment his phone buzzed. He picked it up and smiled at the text message from Beatriz. It read, What are you wearing?
Ben, as usual, had slept naked.
Leather chaps , he wrote back. And a clown nose. Don’t ask .
What are you doing? Beatriz texted.
Soliloquizing , which Autocorrect tried to change to “solo quizzing.” Ben changed it back.
Is that what they’re calling it now? We used to call it masturbating .
I masturbate with a Shakespearean accent , Ben replied. I have no idea what that means .
Me neither. Want a blow job in the shower?
Business or pleasure? Ben wrote back before adding a vital caveat. Never mind. My cock just told me it doesn’t care why. Coming .
Yes. Yes you are , Beatriz responded.
Ben pulled on yesterday’s pants and yesterday’s shirt and didn’t bother with yesterday’s underwear, yesterday’s shoes or yesterday’s socks. He did brush his teeth, which was as much for his benefit as Beatriz’s. In five minutes he was pounding on her door.
“That was fast,” she said, holding the door open for him. She had nothing on but a towel.
“I didn’t want to miss you blowing me in the shower. I’m not late, am I?” He started unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’m not even in the shower yet.”
“Then hurry up,” he said, throwing his shirt off. “You’re late.”
Ben stepped into the shower and Beatriz joined him. He wrapped Beatriz in his wet arms and kissed her hard and deep. She tasted like toothpaste and heat. He pushed her under the shower, soaking them both as he drank the water off her lips and neck.
“I didn’t get
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