From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (CHAPTER 7: FRIDAY NIGHT CUTS)
I’m sitting on Ireland’s balcony. We’re smoking a joint to help me numb my feelings of regret. It’s eleven. Mr. Smyth dropped me off at my house half an hour ago; even though—after being made to look like a complete two-timing whore—I puked out a flurry of apologies for what happened and how it wasn’t what it looked like. Mr. Smyth told me not to worry about it. But our moment was lost. We finished our drinks and left.
“He told me to call him when my schedule opened up a bit more.” I suck hard on the joint, devastated.
Ireland inspects the red polish she’s applying to her toenails. “If I had access to someone who looked like Ben and wanted to have sex with me, I’d be over there right now. Forget the old guy.”
“He’s not old! He’s sexy.”
And that’s when I finally relinquish what I’ve honestly felt since the first time I had sex with Ben: that I don’t think Ben is right for me—not even as a fuck buddy. Mr. Smyth is much more my type, which is why I’m kicking myself for ruining my perfect Friday night date with him.
Ireland grabs the joint from me. She wraps her lips around the paper and inhales. “You’re just a greedy, self-absorbed little bitch. That’s all there is to it.”
Maybe Ireland’s right. I grab the joint from her.
An hour later, Ireland and I are stoned, baking a chocolate cake, eating the frosting we made for it, and I’m still going on about everything preposterous that happened tonight.
“What the hell was he doing with a blind woman?” I ponder, sucking chocolate off my fingers. “And what was in the white envelope?”
Ireland points a wooden ladle in my face: “Drug money.”
“You’re stoned,” I tell her, and that I don’t believe it. “Just like you thought The Yoga Instructor was straight.”
To Be Continued…
Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season by Dorota Skrzypek.
Copyright 2007 by Dorota Skrzypek.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.
Read the entire Sex, Life, and Hannah Winter Season on Amazon now!