Monica shoots me a sideways glance, brow furrowed at me in the silent but universal “why are you asking this?” face. We don’t normally make it a practice to ask our customers’ business, after all.
But I can’t help it. I need to know.
“No.” The lady meets my eyes and forces a small smile this time. “They’re for me, actually.”
“Here they are.” Monica sets them on the counter between us with another sideways glance in my direction. “How would you like to pay today?”
Knowing full well that I look like a crazy person, I still peer over Monica’s shoulder anyway as she checks the woman out. Sure enough, right there on the screen, it shows this woman’s credit card details. Angel Robinson.
The unease in my stomach doubles in size. What’s going on? Why would Jason write some other person’s name on the wall, with his cell phone number? And why this woman’s name?
I hadn’t wanted to ask him about the bathroom or the phone number. Not after we’d started to hook up. I didn’t want to know, frankly. I’m sure he has some reason, some explanation for it. And after all, could I judge him too harshly for being the kind of guy to write his number in a bathroom stall, if I’m the kind of girl who called his number afterward?
But now… I watch the woman go, carrying her flowers in one hand, checking both ways up and down the street outside the flower shop before she pushes her way out of the front door. Now, I wonder what’s really going on. Who this woman is to him.
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Monica asks, arms crossed, when I turn away from the door to catch her side-eying me. To be fair, I sympathize. I’m side-eying myself too.
Still, I shrug and force my best innocent expression. “What was that all about?”
She snorts. “Why did you want to know that woman’s name? And why did you look like she’d just slapped you in the face when she walked in?” Monica’s eyes narrow. “And why do you think she had the same last name as your mystery doctor hookup?”
My stomach sinks. I forgot she was there in the exam room with Dr. Robinson. She knew his name, or at least part of it. “Not just his last name,” I say, grimacing. And then I finally tell her the whole story. The name on the bathroom wall, the number I called. The smoking hot man who showed up at my door, and the even hotter sex—for this part of the story we both make sure Becca is engrossed in her coloring books in the far side of the shop, and we talk in whispers too low for her to hear.
“I thought he was… I don’t know, an escort or something,” I murmur. “Until I woke up in his hospital bed the next day.”
“And you never thought to ask for more details after that?” Monica raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t think I wanted to know more,” I admit, biting my lower lip. “I mean, what explanation could he have? That it’s his kink to meet lonely women nuts enough to dial his number from a bathroom stall or something?” I shake my head. “I figured I was better off just not knowing anything. That way I could just, I don’t know… Live in ignorant bliss.”
She snorts. “Ignorant is one word for it.” She crosses her arms. “Look, Naomi, what did I warn you?”
“Not to jump in too fast, I know. But I didn’t think hooking up counted as too fast.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she acknowledges. “But hooking up with a guy with all these secrets? I mean… Who was that woman, do you think? His wife?”
My stomach churns harder, now that she’s voice the worry that’s been nagging at the back of my mind ever since she said her name out loud. Angel. Angel Robinson. “She could be nobody,” I point out. “It could be a coincidence.”
“This town isn’t big enough for that kind of a coincidence,” Monica replies. She has a point.
“She could be a… I don’t know. His cousin?” I think about my own cousin and her upcoming graduation.
“A cousin who was cool with him impersonating her for his weird sexual bathroom fetishes?” Monica raises an eyebrow. “Look, I’m as big a fan of rebound sex as the next person . Especially with hot doctors. But I don’t want you getting hurt again, Naomi, especially not right after you finally got out of that whole shitty situation with Kevin.”
I grimace. “I know. And you’re right, I do need to be more careful. I don’t want to jump straight in again.”
“So don’t. Not with this guy, anyway. He was fun while he lasted, now move on to the next.”
I find myself nodding, even as my insides rebel at the thought. I don’t want to move on to the next guy. I want to see Jason again. I want him to touch me the way he did last night, this morning. I want to have hot shower sex with him again, pinned against the wall with him fucking me until we’re both screaming. I want him to lick my pussy until I’m begging him to let me come. I want him to fuck me so hard I can barely walk the next day. I want it all, over and over.
But I don’t know what his situation is. I don’t know anything much about him, really, beyond his job and his bathroom stall writing. He could be married for all I know. That woman, Angel Robinson, could be his wife. Hell, maybe they’re swingers and she wrote his name on the bathroom stall, I don’t know.
Monica is right. I shouldn’t see him again. I’m just going to get hurt all over again, like I did with Kevin.
“At least think about it, okay, Naomi?” Monica begs, and finally, I nod. She smiles with evident relief and pulls me into a hug. “We’ll find you a nice guy,” she says.
“Sounds good,” I agree, without any real feeling behind it. But I hug her back anyway. It’s not her fault. She’s not the one who does crazy things and picks the wrong guys and ends up falling way faster than they ought to.
Still, after we finish closing down the store that night, and I’m alone again, driving my rental car back toward my place, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’m doomed to keep making the same mistakes, over and over again. Will I ever actually meet a normal guy? Or will I just keep winding up with guys like Kevin, cheaters and liars every time? I thought Jason might be different. But maybe I’ve just set myself up for heartache all over again.
10
Are you awake?
He texts me around midnight, the first message he’s sent since his sweet thank you message after we hooked up two nights ago. I hadn’t replied to that. Now, staring at my screen, I’m not sure I should answer this, either. All I can think about is that woman who crept into my shop looking nervously over both shoulders. Angel Robinson. Who was she? Who is he?
But I don’t have the guts to ask him about it right now. And now that I’m awake, staring at my clock, remembering the last time he was next to me in this bed, and how good his hands felt as they explored every inch of my body, followed by his mouth… I can’t resist the urge to answer him, either.
What’s the matter? I write back. Can’t sleep?
Not when all I can do is think about how sexy you looked in that hot little slip of yours, no.
My breath hitches and my pulse speeds up a little. I pause to stare at my ceiling for a moment before I type out another response. I can’t stop thinking about you either. Every time I take a shower now, all I think about are your hands on my body, and that thing you did with your tongue…
I want to taste you again, he responds, quicker than I would have thought a person could type. Have I mentioned before how fucking amazing your pussy tastes?
You might have mentioned it once or twice. I find myself grinning. You know what I want to do though? I want to taste your cock. I still haven’t yet. Another point to show how much he’s all about my desires, my pleasure. But it hardly seems fair that he gets to make me lose my mind so often and I haven’t made him call out my name yet.
You want
to suck my cock, you naughty girl? I can practically feel how he’s probably smirking on the other end of the phone. I can picture you now, on your knees in front of me.
I’d take my time with you, I reply. Licking every inch of your thick cock first, sucking on your balls before I put you into my mouth. As I type, I reach a hand between my legs to stroke myself, getting wet at the thought.
I’d make you go slow at first. Let you relax and adjust to my size before I started to thrust in and out of your mouth…
I’d want you to go faster, I write back. To really take control of me.
Do you want me to fuck that dirty little mouth of yours, is that it, Naomi?
Fuck yes, I do.
Do you want to take my cock so deep in your mouth it makes you choke a little?
God yes. I’m fingering myself faster now, feeling how wet I am, soaking my fingers in it as I stroke myself harder, faster, just imagining how he’d take control over me.
Do you want to swallow my cum? Or do you want me to come on your breasts and let you feel how hot it is?
I want to swallow it, all of it. Come in my mouth for me, Angel. I write the name, knowing how he’ll react. Knowing how he reacted the last time, when I called him that to his face after we first met.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. So long I wonder if maybe he put his phone down and walked away. As I’m waiting, I finish myself off. But the orgasm isn’t nearly as strong as any of the ones he gave me, in person. I think it’s because he made me wait for them, stroking me right up to the edge and then pulling back, over and over again, teasing me so much that when he finally gave me that release, it was strong as hell.
When he does answer, it’s short and sweet. You are so damn sexy, Naomi. I’ll talk to you more tomorrow, yeah? Hope you dream of me tonight.
I hope so too, I answer, disappointed. About what? I scold myself. Disappointed that he didn’t just explain to me over text message who the hell Angel is? Especially right after we just sexted. Of course he doesn’t want to talk about that now, whatever that is.