My stomach starts growling while I'm drying my hair, so as soon as I finish getting ready I head for the kitchen. I find a single key laying on the counter, which I assume is a house key for me, and locate some fruit which is surprising since the pantry is basically empty. What the hell does he eat? Aren't athletes supposed to be all healthy and shit? Unfortunately, I end up having to wash a dirty plate and knife before I can use them. I’m slicing up a banana when my wonderful roommate joins me.
"Are you still a bitch this morning?" are the first lovely words out of his vulgar mouth.
"Are you still a nasty pervert?" I ask sweetly, turning around to face him.
Oh shit! The idiot man is standing in front of me totally and completely naked!
"What the hell?" I ask, slapping my hand over my eyes. Oh, but it's too late. The image of his large, free flying package is instantly branded into my brain. That and his abs of steel, complete with two symmetrical pelvic indentions serving as unnecessary directional arrows to guide your eyes straight down to his proud cock that clearly doesn't need the assist.
"I like airing my balls out. My house, my rules, so get over it. Or better yet, get naked, sweet tits," he says. The refrigerator door opens then closes.
"You do remember that I have the power to end your multi-million dollar football contract, right?" I ask.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Didn’t you read the stack of papers you signed yesterday? I'm basically a spy. You screw up and I get to terminate our contract, which means your contract with the Wildcats goes in the shredder."
"Goddamn it," he mutters.
"So, new house rule. You will cover your junk from now on. And you will keep this place trash free or I'll tell them all about you fucking Heather or Holly, whatever the hell her name was, yesterday on the freaking copy machine."
"You saw that?" he asks with pride.
"Yeah, I did."
"It's was pretty hot, right?"
I could call him disgusting, but I go with an insult to his masculinity instead as I turn back around to start peeling an apple. The arrogant bastard needs to realize he's not as sexy as he thinks he is…even if he is pretty damn sexy.
"It looked like you were in a hurry. Do you always finish so quickly? Cause I hate to tell you, stud, but women occasionally like to get off during sex, too."
I hear him scoff but don't see his reaction since I still can't look at his nakedness. "She got off."
"You sure about that, lover boy? Because nine out of ten women fake it. I know, I'm a psychiatrist." I make up the statistic off the top of my head, but he's probably too stupid to realize it.
"She wasn't faking her pussy squeezing the fuck out of my cock," he retorts.
"What do you know? I'm squeezing my pussy right now and I'm definitely not getting off. They're just muscles, dipshit," I tell him.
"I know what a woman feels like when she comes.” Suddenly I can feel and smell his warm, lemony scented breath against the back of my neck just as his palms smack down on the counter on either side of me. He’s totally naked, and now his penis is only inches away from my ass. “Here's an idea, how about I shove my cock into your pussy for research purposes? You know, to see if I can get you off. Uptight bitches always scream the loudest when my huge cock finally loosens them up," he says. I do not get aroused. I don't feel my pulse throbbing between my legs. It's just...been a while. Like more than a year. Or two.
"I know my pussy's good, but I don't think it's worth your multi-million dollar contract," I’m finally able to reply.
"What do you mean?" he asks hesitantly, as his arms fall away from beside my hips.
"You really should've read those papers you signed. If you touch me our contract is voided and you're kicked out of the league, right on your…bare ass. I hope you have a degree in communications or a backup plan of some sort."
"Your dad is a fucking asshole," he snaps, and the insult stings.
"My dad isn't the one who landed you in trouble with the team. You are an adolescent boy! How about you take a little responsibility for your own actions instead of blaming everyone else?"
"God, you are such a bitch!" he says and I hear him stomp out of the room. "Be ready to go at eleven, cunt!"
"Agggghhh!" I groan to myself. I may end up killing that man before this bullshit is done and over with.
...
At five minutes to eleven I step into the living room to wait for Mr. Wonderful, arms crossed over my chest, still pissed at him. Then I wait some more.
"Jake?" I call out. Not getting a response, I walk down the hallway to investigate. His messy room is empty except for piles of clothes and more trash, his closet doors wide open. He's gone. The asshole left me!