Dive

One

"Aren't you coming back to bed, babe?"

I turn my upper body so I can glance at the half-naked guy leaning back against the headboard as he watches me putting on my heels.

I slip the second one in place, only briefly mourning the feeling I used to have in my toes. "I've got work," I say dismissively.

"Oh, come on, babe, I'm sure you have time for a quicky."

Yes, I do indeed have two minutes, I think to myself as I fight the urge to gag. I hate it when they use pet names. Seriously, we just met last night; there's no way in hell he already knows me well enough for that sort of thing.

Not like he's gonna get the chance to, either.

"Sorry, really gotta go." My eyes sweep over the room, checking to see if any of my things are scattered somewhere on the floor. I have zero desire to return to this place again.

"Can I get your phone number?" Jake or John or Joshua asks me, a cocky smile on his face, as he rests his arms behind his head, flexing his non-existing muscles.

You don't get to look that smug when you couldn't even make me orgasm.

I shake my head as I pick up my clutch, checking to see if my phone is in there. I pull it out to order an uber before I glance up at his expectant face. "I don't do phone numbers." I give him a tight-lipped smile, turning towards the door with a somewhat pleasant farewell on the tip of my tongue.

"What? It's your own fault if you didn't come," he scoffs. "No one's ever complained before."

I pause with my hand on the doorknob.

Oh, naive, little fool.

I was about to go. I really was. I would have breezed out of here, leaving him with his self-worth mostly intact so he could go on severely underwhelming women in peace, because in all honesty, I have better things to do than educate manchildren, but then he just had to make that comment.

I tap my fingers against my thigh, turning around to look at him as my lips curl. He looks unnecessarily gleeful to have captured my interest once more.

"Exactly how is it my fault that you have a first grader's understanding of female anatomy?" I ask him, resting my hand on my hip.

A flush creeps up his neck, turning his ears red, and I'm guessing all that blood that had been conjugating in his groin area at the, albeit delusional, prospect of a second round has now rushed to his face in embarrassment. "What did you say?" he sputters.

Really? He is just gonna allow me to monolog? It's his funeral.

"I said that even if God had blessed you with the stamina and restraint of someone more experienced than a thirteen-year-old boy, those fumbling hands of yours would still have needed a roadmap to find my clit, and then a tutorial on how to approach it." I pause momentarily to smooth down the front of my silk blouse, hoping a night on this guy's bedroom floor hasn't left it too creased for my walk of shame.