legs to ease the throbbing ache that wouldn’t let me sleep. The closer I got myself to climax the more I kept seeing Stone. I kept remembering the broad muscles that were barely contained underneath his plain work shirt. With a ruggedly chiseled face that would speed up the pulse of any girl and a body that belonged on a romance novel cover, that boy was (to use a juvenile term)…Hot. As. Fuck.
I was in the middle of picturing his boring white shirt slipping from those strong shoulders when I came, curling my toes with a soft groan. The idea of bare male shoulders may not seem like enough erotic material to send a girl straight to gasping ecstasy but when she was as deprived as I was it didn’t take much. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was turning my cheek to the soft pillow and thinking it was all wrong because in my mind I was still pressed against Stone’s hard chest as we danced in the dark.
Since it was Saturday and I hadn’t set my alarm, I slept until nearly ten o’clock. When I finally padded into the kitchen for a caffeine infusion I felt moody, irritable. Last night’s encounter with Stone had brought up some feelings I usually shoved aside with impatience. There was something about him though, a connection, however brief and awkward. And then came the moment when we clung to one another with barely restrained lust.
Damn.
Even in the cold light of morning I couldn’t quite let go of that moment. Yet I had to admit that sex, or lack thereof, wasn’t the only reason I was feeling out of sorts.
Maybe it was the post wedding blues, that smug ‘always a bridesmaid’ bullshit. I was happy as could be for my friend. Yet there was also a small sting of envy. I remembered how my mother once said that the world ordered itself in pairs. It certainly seemed true that being half of a couple was a rather universal objective.
So where did I fit in?
I considered the question as I poured a cup of coffee. Really, not every guy I’ve ever been with could be dismissed as a douchebag, even though there were a few who deserved the insult. Yet there was always something missing; something intangible, something crucial. Fire, passion, fascination, all rolled together into one magnetic pull that there was no arguing with. It existed, I think. At least it seemed that way for other people. For my part, I was still searching for a reason not to have fake orgasms with some sweaty character who humped his clumsy way in and out for a few minutes and then acted like I owed him money.
No, I wasn’t settling for that shit. No one should.
“Just you and me, Teddy,” I told my guinea pig as I lifted his sleeping body out of his habitat. He opened one baleful eye and if it was possible for a rodent to look annoyed then this one definitely did.
Teddy cheered up when I gave him the run of the living room. I didn’t do that very often because Teddy liked to crap green food pellets everywhere and he was always poking his curious nose into places it didn’t belong.
I sat on a couple of big floor pillows, opened a bag of powdered donuts and watched my orange pet defecate on a nearby celebrity magazine. But then he turned right around and ate his own fecal matter so everything evened out before I could do anything about it.
After a few minutes of channel surfing, I found one where Titanic was just starting. I hadn’t planned on spending an un-showered afternoon sitting on my living room floor with powdered sugar decorating the Nirvana t-shirt I’d scored at a thrift shop, but it’s just not possible to turn off Titanic if you’ve got a beating heart. And at the end when you’re sobbing and wiping your nose on the front of your dirty t-shirt because no one’s watching but an orange guinea pig, you think how lucky you are that you’re not in love if love means one half of you has to freeze to death and then sink to the bottom of
I was in the middle of picturing his boring white shirt slipping from those strong shoulders when I came, curling my toes with a soft groan. The idea of bare male shoulders may not seem like enough erotic material to send a girl straight to gasping ecstasy but when she was as deprived as I was it didn’t take much. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was turning my cheek to the soft pillow and thinking it was all wrong because in my mind I was still pressed against Stone’s hard chest as we danced in the dark.
Since it was Saturday and I hadn’t set my alarm, I slept until nearly ten o’clock. When I finally padded into the kitchen for a caffeine infusion I felt moody, irritable. Last night’s encounter with Stone had brought up some feelings I usually shoved aside with impatience. There was something about him though, a connection, however brief and awkward. And then came the moment when we clung to one another with barely restrained lust.
Damn.
Even in the cold light of morning I couldn’t quite let go of that moment. Yet I had to admit that sex, or lack thereof, wasn’t the only reason I was feeling out of sorts.
Maybe it was the post wedding blues, that smug ‘always a bridesmaid’ bullshit. I was happy as could be for my friend. Yet there was also a small sting of envy. I remembered how my mother once said that the world ordered itself in pairs. It certainly seemed true that being half of a couple was a rather universal objective.
So where did I fit in?
I considered the question as I poured a cup of coffee. Really, not every guy I’ve ever been with could be dismissed as a douchebag, even though there were a few who deserved the insult. Yet there was always something missing; something intangible, something crucial. Fire, passion, fascination, all rolled together into one magnetic pull that there was no arguing with. It existed, I think. At least it seemed that way for other people. For my part, I was still searching for a reason not to have fake orgasms with some sweaty character who humped his clumsy way in and out for a few minutes and then acted like I owed him money.
No, I wasn’t settling for that shit. No one should.
“Just you and me, Teddy,” I told my guinea pig as I lifted his sleeping body out of his habitat. He opened one baleful eye and if it was possible for a rodent to look annoyed then this one definitely did.
Teddy cheered up when I gave him the run of the living room. I didn’t do that very often because Teddy liked to crap green food pellets everywhere and he was always poking his curious nose into places it didn’t belong.
I sat on a couple of big floor pillows, opened a bag of powdered donuts and watched my orange pet defecate on a nearby celebrity magazine. But then he turned right around and ate his own fecal matter so everything evened out before I could do anything about it.
After a few minutes of channel surfing, I found one where Titanic was just starting. I hadn’t planned on spending an un-showered afternoon sitting on my living room floor with powdered sugar decorating the Nirvana t-shirt I’d scored at a thrift shop, but it’s just not possible to turn off Titanic if you’ve got a beating heart. And at the end when you’re sobbing and wiping your nose on the front of your dirty t-shirt because no one’s watching but an orange guinea pig, you think how lucky you are that you’re not in love if love means one half of you has to freeze to death and then sink to the bottom of
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