Member-only story
Not That Kind of Girl
Fiction
“Is this okay?” he asked, his hands sliding up my waist and under my shirt, his mouth barely an inch from mine.
Stop asking me stupid questions, I wanted to snap — but instead all I did was bridge the distance and let my mouth do everything except talk. If I wanted someone to chat with, I would have stayed at the bar longer; I wouldn’t have gotten into a taxi with a nearly-drunk guy and started making out with him before we even reached his place.
He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last.
~
It was too easy to depart in the dead of morning, before the sun woke from its slumber. My high heels from the night before seemed like even more of a mistake. I didn’t know the neighborhood well, but I managed to hail a taxi that was idling by the curb.
I checked my phone to see two new texts there: one from my best friend Jess, another from my sister Elaine.
Have fun with Mr. Smoking Hot, followed by a winking emoji. If Jess were here, she would have given me a high-five for actually managing to stay the night at the guy’s place. But she still would have frowned that I couldn’t remember if his name had been Ben or Jake. Oh, well. At least the sex had been memorable even if the guy himself hadn’t been.
