For Your Eyes Only

Chapter 8: Closer Together

Rob goes to the living room, still chewing on the pieces of ice he crushed earlier. That method seems to be reducing his headache from the sake. When he grabs his guitar to practice, he hears a knock on the door and goes to open it. "Hey, Kenya". "Hey Rob, I came to pick up my gifts I dropped off yesterday". Rob remembers the packages. "Oh, of course. I'll get them". He retrieves them from the corner of his coat closet and gives them to her. "Thanks". Kenya takes them inside her apartment and comes back. "So, how are you feeling?". "OK. I guess the sake got to me too." Rob answers as they both walk into the living room. "I didn't know it would do this much". "Don't worry, it's not your fault. I don't drink often". Rob goes to tune his guitar again.

Kenya wraps her arms around him from behind. "What are you doing?" he asks. "I just want to hear you play". He plays a few notes and it turns to a melody, when Kenya runs her hands over his abs and down his crotch. "Whoa! Are you still drunk from yesterday?". Kenya doesn't answer and continues to rub him down there. "You feel so hard, is that for me?" she croons. Rob puts down the guitar. "I don't think we should do this" he says. "Why not? Don't you like me?" . "I do, but this is a little too quick". Kenya playfully shoves him onto the couch and straddles him. "You're so cute. I know what you want" she nuzzles him before kissing him on his lips.

"Mmm...you have such soft lips, they would feel so good against my skin". Kenya unbuttons and unzips his jeans. She teases his bulge. "Kenya...this isn't like you...mmm..." Rob groans while she laughs. "You love the girls that go wild, don't you?" she asks, kissing his bulge. "Yeah...but not like this". "That's too bad. I have a nice, large bed that I would love to share with someone. You know, have a sleepover, just the two of us and we can keep each other warm at night, but since you're not interested..." Kenya giggles, getting up and walking to the door. "Wait!" Rob gets up, buttoning his jeans, following her. "I thought we were going to take things slow". "You want to take things slow? That's really sweet, if it was my first time. You would have some pretty big shoes to fill, unless you feel you won't be able to satisfy me".

Rob gets shocked at this response. "What?!". "I can't blame you, there are only so many ways you can try to get me in bed with you, but we all want what we can't have, right? Well, I'll be going now". Kenya laughs. "Take care, Rob". She walks out the door, while he tries to walk out, a large flash blinds him, making him wake up.

He looks around to see that he slept in the kitchen and the remaining pieces of ice have melted all over the counter. He grabs a towel to dry it off and goes to his room, thinking about the dream turned nightmare. "That was a very weird dream" he says to himself. "Kenya isn't really like that, is she? No, she isn't, she wouldn't want to hurt me...". He still felt a bit bothered by it, so he turns on the TV and sees an old commercial play.

It was one of those 900 number commercials, where a scantly clad woman would pose, stare at the viewer and ask them to dial the number on the bottom of their screen.

Rob remembers the time where these numbers were a dime a dozen. There were 900 numbers for everything, stars, cartoons, jokes, jobs, sex, you name it, they had it. It was because of the rise of the Internet and the 900 numbers becoming 800 numbers, among other things, that started to bring down business, as they are now few and far in between. He also recalls the times he would dial these numbers on lonely nights and talk for several hours at a time. Several hour calls turned to bills in the tune of several hundred dollars. Before he knew it, Rob was running out of money, so he had to stop.