I looked back to find him holding a business card between two thick fingers. There was a Playboy logo on the card.
“Women are funny creatures, aren’t they,” he said, sliding the card into my shirt pocket and giving my chest a pat. “Have a good night, Mr. Donovan.”
“You, too, Ron,” I said with a smile. “You, too.”
Kate
“So, what the fuck happened last night?” Dru asked, leaning against my office door with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a half-eaten Bear Claw in the other.
Dru didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, yet she ate like a Sumo wrestler. She said it was her high-octane-lesbian metabolism… although I don’t really think there is such a thing.
I looked up from my laptop and rolled my eyes. “Well, I guess the disguise worked because he practically humped me right in the middle of the dancefloor. But in the end, it was a bust.”
I didn’t dare mention that we had basically masturbated one another on the dance floor. That was a fun fact that I would take to my grave.
Dru, on the other hand, reveled in telling tall tales of her nightly sexual exploits. She held a finger under her nose and took a deep whiff.
“Oh well, at least I had the common decency to fingerfuck a girl at the bar rather than try to fuck her on the dancefloor. Which would not have been out of the question, I might add.”
“God, you’re a slut,” I said, snorting a laugh. “Yeah, who was that girl?”
Dru brought the cup to her lips and shrugged. “Beats me. Never seen her before in my life.”
“And she let you finger her in public?”
“We weren’t in public,” she said, smacking her lips. “We were in a bar. And when a beautiful lipstick lesbian walks up to you and asks you to give her a hand, it’s impolite to refuse.”
“God, you really are just like a man,” I said, shaking my head.
She smiled, but didn’t disagree. “So, what happened with Sean Donovan?”
I sighed as I told the story. “I introduced myself and gave him the card. We chatted for a minute. Then a slow song that he liked came on so he dragged me onto the dance floor. A minute later he’s shoving his tongue down my throat, clutching my ass, and grinding his cock into my crotch.”
“Sounds like fun,” she said. “I mean, if you like cocks.”
“I don’t have a problem with cocks,” I said, trying to sound much hipper than I really was. “Then he asked me to go back to his place to have sex. I mean, I’d known the guy ten minutes, Dru. There was no way I was going to go home with him. I mean, do women really do that? Meet a celebrity and have sex with him an hour later.”
I felt a little hypocritical for even asking the question, but in my mind Katie Holmes was the skank that blew a gasket on the dancefloor with Sean Donovan, not me, not good girl Kate Asher, upstanding citizen and retroactive virgin (my twat was growing back together due to lack of use).
“A lot of girls would have fucked him right there on the dancefloor,” Dru said. “If I was hanging out with Jennifer Lawrence and she wanted me to go down on her in the middle of Times Square during rush hour on live TV, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“You also fingerfuck strangers in bars,” I said with a grin.
“True,” she said with a sigh. “So, what happened?”
“I freaked out and ran away,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “The good little girl from Utah came out of me and I just got the hell out of there.” I tapped my forehead with a fist. “Dammit, Dru, I should have gone home with him and got him to commit to an interview.”
Dru’s eyes widened over the coffee cup. “If you had gone home with him, would you have fucked him?”
“What? No, I mean, I don’t think so.” I rubbed my eyes and growled at myself. “Jesus, Dru, what’s wrong with me? Why am I such a prude?”
“You were there to do a job, Kate,” she said, giving me a look of consolation that didn’t make me feel any better. “And not the kind of job he had in mind.”
“I guess.”
She sipped her coffee and let me stew in silence for a moment. She bit off corner of the Bear Claw, then chewed as she said, “So, what’s your next move, Katie Holmes?”
“There isn’t one,” I said sadly. “Katie Holmes goes back in the box and Kate Asher goes back to writing fluff pieces about women’s sports that no one cares to read.”