This store smells like a diaper bin. They sell old cheeses, she tells me. She’s mesmerized by the odor. We’ll probably never have sex again.
Tagged: Sex (778)
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We woke and we were sober. We surveyed the room and refused eye contact. She said something pithy. It might have been funny the night before.
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Our breathing got heavy, and then she called me “rookie.” Her words: Let’s go rookie. I reminded her I was older. She refused to believe me.
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The bar is awash in the noise of want. She approaches a cute guy and can’t hear a word he says. She likes that. And then she takes his hand.
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His effort was real and sincere and then it was done. She said, Is it over? and then he knew it had not been enough and he checked his phone.
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We watched our dogs, their sniffing of intimates, the simplicity of their lives, and later I went home and took a long shower. Just in case.
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The chair was comfortable. Don’t get too comfortable, she said as she made her way to the bedroom. I thought sexy thoughts. And fell asleep.
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I have a big mouth, I warn her. But she doesn’t care. Not now. And we kiss. It’s not so big, she says. And that is the worst backlash of all.
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He put a chocolate bar in his pocket and bumped into his old girlfriend. What’s in your pocket? she asked. And the chocolate started to melt.
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He steps out of the shower and says, I’m clean now. And she lays on the bed and says, Me too. They share a giggle. And proceed to get dirty.
