She sat on the bed while pillows propped on the wall cushioned her head from it. Only a blanket covered her thigh and nothing else for the rest. She was watching him, wary of his next move. He was sitting naked on the edge of the bed his back to her. A cigarette dangled on his lips and while he was struggling to light it up with his inept lighter, she stirred and he looked at her.
A smile escaped from his lips. He stroked her left thigh with his left hand and lit his cigarette with his right. The fire caught the stub, and seconds after, he was already puffing the smoke across the room.
“I should go,” she said sleepily.
He turned to her and said, “Later.” He lowered his head and kissed her knee. She shuddered. She saw him place his cigarette butt on the ashtray and inched toward her. The bed was small so she scooted over to give him room. He didn’t sit beside her. He was hovering over her with a shit-like grin on his face.
“I want to do it again.” He said. Suddenly his weight was on top of her and they were at it for the third time.
*some text missing*
“Wow.” He said, after thirty minutes. He was lying on her chest for what seemed like 5 minutes before he rolled over. When she was free of him, she got up and started putting on her clothes.
“Get dressed,” She hissed. “The people inside this house’s gonna wake up soon.”
He shrugged and reached for his cigarette. It had long been out. “Shit.” She gathered his clothes and handed it to him.
“Hurry,” she demanded. The last thing she needed was to run into any family member and explain why she’s there in their house at 4am. She looked at him while he got dressed and was tempted to stay longer. But she shook her head feeling silly.
Fully clothed and looking fresh, he grabbed her hand and led her outside. The dining room was still dark and so was the rest of the house. They hurried outside and got inside the car. The gates weren’t close so they easily left the house without so much as a whisper. They got to her house in five minutes when he stopped in front of her walkway and killed the engine.
She panicked. He isn’t coming over, is he? She hurriedly reached for the door handle when his hands found her shoulders so that she is facing him.
“G’night. I had a great time.” He kissed her hard on the lips and she let him. His kiss got deeper and before he could go overboard, she pulled away, opened the door in haste and got out.
She waved and half-ran to her apartment. When she was certain that she was already in her room and he wasn’t following, she collapsed on her bed and closed her eyes. She shuddered and realized that his breath was still on her mouth and she hated the aftertaste of men. The bile has risen from her stomach and reached her throat. She clutched her throat gagging and ran to the sink. The nausea she had been feeling the time she was with him until she got home found its way to the bowels of the sink and she washed it down with water. Her eyes were watery and when she felt like gagging again she down one glass of mouthwash hoping to wash away his stench on her mouth.
This has got to stop. She has got to stop being with other men. She called the only man she wanted to be with. His answering machine picked up. She ended the call and suddenly wished caller ID wasn’t invented. Her legs found the floor and she wept.