“Shit,” I exclaimed, hastily stubbing out my cigarette in the overflowing ashtray by my bed. I didn’t smoke very often, but when I did, I usually finished half a pack to a pack in a few hours. I glanced at my bed, disgruntled to find my girl toy for the night still slumbering there. I needed to get rid of her as my very-Christian, old-country mother was coming over this afternoon for another chance to lecture me about being unmarried at age thirty-two. I got up and stretched, pleasurably aware of the ache in my body. The girl toy had been a hellcat in bed, which pleasantly surprised me because she was one of those hippie-dippy types. If I hadn’t been drunk out of my mind and horny as hell, I would never have taken her home. It’s a good thing to be desperate once in a while, I guess, but I didn’t want to make a habit of it.
“Hey,” the girl toy smiled, licking her lips. Apparently, she’d awakened while I’d been ruminating about how to throw her out. “Ready for round two?” She reached her arms to me, allowing the sheets to slip from her full breasts. I felt a jump in my stomach that told me I was, indeed, ready to go again. However, I make it a policy never to fuck a toy two days in a row. In fact, I preferred they didn’t spend the night, but I’d pretty much passed out after we’d fucked, so I hadn’t been able to kick her out last night. I really should have, however, as the girls tended to cling if they thought there was any hope for a relationship. As I had just ended a long-term relationship with my boyfriend of five years, I didn’t need complications.
“Sorry. You gotta go.” I wrapped my robe around my body, firmly tying the sash to underline my point. “It’s been nice and all, but….” I looked pointedly at the clock on the nightstand, hoping it would be enough to get her ass out of my bed. Instead, she snuggled against my goose feather-filled pillows and simply smiled. She didn’t bother covering her breasts which was how I knew she was still in the mood to play. My desire for her was waning as I didn’t like coyness. If I said I didn’t want more sex, then that was that. I didn’t want some minx trying to cajole me or change my mind; she was starting to irritate me.
“Come on, Margaret,” she pouted, pushing out her lower lip. What the fuck was she doing? She was supposed to be the Earth Mother type, not the flirting coquette. I really must stop picking up toys after a night of heavy drinking. “I want to play some more.” She threw the covers off her so I could see her admittedly lush naked body. She had the figure of a Reuben woman, with the wide hips people liked to call ‘birthing hips’. What was her name? Cammie? Candy? Something like that.
“Look, sweets,” I say, flexing my biceps ever so slightly. I work out religiously, not wanting to be mistaken for a punk. I also stretch daily to increase my flexibility. “It’s time for you to go. Don’t make a scene, OK?”
“I want to stay,” she said, her lower lip trembling slightly. Ah, hell. That’s what I get for going after the young ones. This one was over twenty-one, but just barely. I gotta toss the chickens back to the dogs, for sure. What the hell was her name? “I thought you liked me. You’re the first woman I’ve been with.” Well, shit. If I had known she was a dyke virgin, I would never have brought her home. I didn’t do newbies out of self-protection. They either turn out clingy like this one or they freak out at doing something immoral. I kinda wished this girl would be one of the latter so she’d flee on her own. Carrie! That’s her name.
“Carrie, baby,” I said, purposely sweetening my voice. “You were great. Really, but you just started swimming in the queer pool. This is no time for you to latch on to one woman. I mean, you didn’t go steady with the first boy you kissed, did you?” I prayed she hadn’t. “You need to know what’s out there before you settle down.” I thought that was a pretty good rah-rah speech if I did say so myself, but it only succeeded in making the girl toy cry.
“My name is Carlie,” she wailed, her eyes scrunching shut. “You can’t even remember my name! I meant nothing to you.” Shit, shit, shit. My New Year’s Resolution was going to be that I never got drunk again. Of course, it was only March which meant I had a quite a few months before I had to make the resolution, but good intentions counted for something, didn’t they?
“Carlie, see, that’s why I’m no good for you. You need to find a woman who deserves you.” I was developing a migraine, which I could ill-afford in facing my mother. She was a human shark who scented any weakness and attacked with zest. I vowed again never to get drunk and pick up a trick. I never could handle my liquor, though it had nothing to do with being Asian. I didn’t get the red cheeks; I just lost any inhibitions I had, which were few to begin with. Before I could argue some more with Carrie, my cell phone rang.
“Yeah, what?” I growled, not wanting to deal with whomever was on the other side of the wires. However, I was constitutionally unable to not answer a ringing phone, so I was stuck.