Getting Laid.

Getting Laid. 2

Getting Laid.

The trials and tribulations of a girl looking for Mr. Right. She's kissed a lot of frogs, but now she's found her Prince Charming and unfortunately he's a little unattainable -being that he's engaged to her elder sister and all. But, is love worth a family rift with your favourite sibling and being disowned by your whole family -who knows? Autumn certainly doesn't and she's left fighting her feelings and caught in two minds -what should she do? She's always been high on ethics, being vegetarian and all, but when her morals are put to the test will she falter, or will she stand true and come out the other end unscathed?

Chapter 2.

We pulled up in front of a rather abandoned looking building. Most definitely not the five star treatment I was used to. I knew India had some quirky friends, but this looked like some skanky cannabis farm and I was going further and further off Dave Garland every second I looked at the place.

It was a dirty, grimy grey building, with a variety of window decoration: smashed glass and MDF boarding. There was some graffiti which actually spruced the place up with its bright colours and swirling designs -and I'm not one of those people who consider graffiti art. The roof consisted of mossy broken tiles and the front door showed mouldy wood beneath the peeling dark green paint.

As I opened the door to the cab I heard Barry's worried voice ask "Are you sure you want to get out here?". Funnily enough I was asking myself the exact same question. I took a deep breath, if I didn't go I'd return home to a very angry India and I'd have wasted money on the cab which I simply could not bring myself to do, besides it wasn't so bad -was it? So I opened the door and peeked one pale, stripper heeled foot out before following it with the rest of my body rather inelegantly i.e. I tripped -over my own feet. Thankfully, I didn't fall flat on my face and turn my button nose into some gnarled extension of my face -I rather like my nose it's not like anybody else's in my family. Ya see the dreaded hooked nose a la Ashlee Simpson pre surgery runs in my family and I happen to be the only on who hasn't inherited it. Quite the achievement, apparently I'm the splitting image of my grandfather. I try not to dwell on the fact he was a man.

I was standing in front of the peeling paint door having paid Barry, who I only just managed to get rid of, he was worried leaving me on my lonesome in what he called a rough looking neighbourhood. Little did he know I'd just smashed Westwood reincarnate's shiny gold teeth into a dashboard. I knocked tentatively at first before being angry with myself for my nerves and giving the door a great big whack.

"Whoa man cool it." Were the words that accompanied the door swinging open. And oh my God, what the fuck is that. Standing before me was a man, he looked more like a boy due to the fact there wasn't an ounce of muscle -or fat- on his puny little body, but his stubble gave away that this, in fact, was a man. As did the size of his genitals. Oh, sorry, did I forget to mention that he was completely bloody starkers.

My eyes had bulged out of my head and I was having trouble deciding where to look. It's not that I'd never seen a man naked before it was the fact that he'd opened the door naked. Naked. Try as I might for some reason unfathomable to my beauty school brain I couldn't help my eyes from straying down there repeatedly.

And then it hit me. What if this is Dave Garland? What if this skinny black haired thing is Dave Garland?

"Umm, sorry." I don't know why I was apologising for him being naked, I just felt awkward and needed to fill the silence. Plus, I was worried someone would walk or drive past pretty soon and I did not want to have to explain myself out of this situation. "Is Dave Garland there please?" I asked.

"Dave, yeah sure. He's cool." At first I was glad that more people than just India thought this guy was alright, but then I remembered I was talking to a crazy person who'd just opened the door naked. Naked. This was a story I was going to have to repeat. And repeat. And repeat. In fact after realising that a man who opened the door naked was the type of man Dave Garland hung out with and who thought he was cool I started to get very worried. After saying Dave Garland was cool I expected him to move aside and let me in or make some welcoming gesture with his hand but he just stood there looking gormless and very unattractive.

"Err, can I come in?" I asked feeling a little rude but at a loss to what else I could possibly do.

"Oh, yeah sure." He said smiling, he even had the audacity not to look embarrassed. What was with this guy? So, I'd been sure that after actually asking to come in he'd have moved aside -but no, he just stood there. Not moving a muscle. Well, I was stumped. I couldn't ask again, could I? I think it'd be against some unwritten etiquette law if I did. Then again the kind of person who answers the door naked isn't the kind of person concerned with etiquette, I mean they wouldn't be answering the door naked it they were, right? I could leave, India couldn't blame me for not being able to get in. But then, I was intrigued. I wanted to meet the elusive Dave Garland who had a naked bag of bones guarding his door.

I stepped back and directed my voice to one of the boarded windows. "Erm, Dave, Dave Garland. It's Autumn Summers I was wondering whether you'd let me in?". I was the modern day Romeo and he was my Juliet.

Seconds later I heard the thudding footfalls of company on the stairs and then Dave appeared. And my God was he gorgeous. He wore a suit, without the jacket and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up revealing his tattooed forearms which strangely I found rather sexy. His eyes were a beautiful oaky leaf green, he was tall and well muscled but not overly so and... and he had a red mohican. A bloody red mohican.

What are the chances?