By the time she finished the mound of work, she was going to need one.
Or five.
She grabbed her phone and texted her best friend, Anne.
Meet me at my place after work. Bring liquor.
Anne was one of Kayla's favorite people. She was kind, fun, exciting, and always up for an adventure. Most of all, she was a little bit of a slut, so she didn't judge Kayla when things got crazy or irresponsible.
I'll be there at 7. I'll bring wine. You get the tequila.
Kayla firmly believed that every girl needed a friend like Anne.
She was lucky as shit to have her.
TWO
“You need a man,” Anne said suddenly, raising her glass of wine to emphasize her point. “A good man. You need a good, good man.”
“I don’t need a man, Anne,” Kayla protested, somewhat tired of the commentary other people felt the need to offer. She didn’t usually disagree with Anne, but in this case, her best friend really had no clue. Kayla was doing just fine on her own. She didn’t need to get involved with someone to give her meaning.
She was okay, at least emotionally.
Someone to fuck her out of her mind?
That she could use.
Kayla didn't consider herself a nymphomaniac or a slut, but she did like sex and she liked a lot of it. She'd had only a handful of partners, which was strange considering her slight obsession with the act, but Kayla had a habit of being monog
amous for long bouts of time and then ending the relationship when things turned toward marriage.
That was something she didn't want.
As if reading her mind, Anne added, “I’m not saying you need someone to validate you. I just think you need someone to fuck you.”
“What? No, I don’t. I’m fine.” She smiled slightly. Even she didn't believe her own lie.
“Please. You’re totally tense. You could use a good fucking, and I know just the guy.”
“Oh yeah?” Kayla wondered who Anne had in mind. Her friend loved to date as many different guys as possible. Anne loved trying new things, and she believed the best way to do that was to “test the waters” in as many different ways as possible.
She didn't understand Kayla's obsession with long-term relationships, not that Kayla necessarily considered them to be relationships.
They were more like long-term fuck buddies.
But there was something to be said, Kayla thought, for getting to know someone intimately for a long period of time.
The more you were with someone, after all, the more you got to know their body. The more you got to know their triggers. The more you got to know what excited them.
And that, she thought, was an amazing thing.
“His name is Bruce,” she scribbled down a number. “You should call him.”
“Call him?” Did anyone really make phone calls anymore?
“Or text him. Whatever. Just get in touch, girl. I have his Facebook, too, if you want it.” Anne pulled up a profile on her phone to show Kayla. She caught herself breathing in unintentionally, but Anne caught on.
“Ha!” She pointed at Kayla. “You think he’s a hottie! Good. Call him.”