Tease Me(2)

He had frequently fucked me senseless in my dreams as of late. I wasn’t sure why he had popped up, but I didn’t regret it. The way we hooked up in dreamland changed from time to time, though his appearance tonight was almost realistic. In dreamland, I had met him in a bar and he took me home. It was just a hookup, and he didn’t know who I was. Which would really be a good thing. I didn’t look my best during my hospital stay.

I yawned and stretched, annoyed that I could have slept in. I didn’t even have to go to work today; I just forgot to turn off my alarm. Really, I was afraid if I turned it off I’d forget to turn it back on Monday morning when I had to get my ass into work. Though I was so worried about forgetting, I checked my alarm at least three times before I lay down at night. The chances of really forgetting were slim to none.

Maybe I should go to a bar tonight. It was Saturday and my weekend off. I laughed at my own thought. Yeah the fuck right. Me, go to a bar? Getting drunk and going home with a stranger was even funnier. Besides the obvious concerns, I was afraid of leaving with a ten and wake up with a two.

I liked to think I was a seven, maybe an eight or even a nine even when I got all dolled up. I wasn’t short but wasn’t as tall as I’d like to be either, standing at five feet five inches. I was lean and athletic, as I had to be for work. Though even as a cop, I did more sitting behind a desk or in my squad car than I did chasing bad guys. No matter how hard I worked out, I couldn’t get rid of my large ass. I didn’t particularly mind, though.

I had the same shade of blue-green eyes as my father and older brother—also cops and damn good ones at that—and my brunette hair fell down to my middle back. I recently got layers cut in, and my hair held a decent curl. But I didn’t go out. I didn’t get drunk and fuck random strangers. Though part of me wanted to. Badly.

I was a good girl. I followed every rule. I got to work early and stayed late. I busted my ass but got denied year after year for that fucking promotion. Like I did today, hence the breaking point.

Living risk free was boring. But it was safe. I knew what to expect, and there was very little risk. It was easy to stick to my routine and not do anything crazy. That was how I’d always been, how I always would be.

I could use some fun. I could use a night of drinking and letting go after the week I had just had. Even if it was just a few hours of shameless dancing and drinking, it would be nice not to worry about paying my rent next month, paying off my student loans, or feel like I was drowning in medical bills.

Fuck insurance. They didn’t do a damned thing. I was behind on payments from when I was admitted to the hospital with the flu. I never should have gone in. But my ex, Ken, insisted. He was worried about me, he said. He cared about my well being, he said. He cared about it so much he never had the decency to tell me he had been cheating on me for the last three months.

With a man.

At least that explained why he never went down on me was always trying to get me to let him stick it up my ass. I wasn’t a fan of anal. I sighed at the thought. In truth, I knew something wasn’t right in our relationship for months, though I never guessed he was cheating. But play-it-safe Ellie didn’t want to risk saying anything. So I suffered in silence then went through the humiliation of being cheated on.

Whatever.

That was my life. I had to make the best of it somehow.





*





After my morning run around the city, I showered and lay back down in bed, thinking about the sexy doctor as I drifted to sleep, imagining myself as a doctor’s wife. I would have enough closet space if I was Mrs. Doctor Sexy, that’s for sure. My entire apartment was only about a third of the one I had split with Ken. Once we split, I moved out. In all fairness, he offered to let me stay in our shared apartment until I saved up enough so I wouldn’t be living paycheck to paycheck.

But I’d be damned to stay with him another minute. We hadn’t been together that long, but I was hurt. Hurt I wasn’t enough, hurt he lied to me, and hurt that I wasn’t a good enough cop to know my own boyfriend was sneaking around on me. I’m supposed to notice those things, right?

I woke up to my phone ringing. I had a missed call from my best friend, Misty, but no voicemail. If it were important, she would have left a message or called back.

Unable to fall back asleep, I got up, twisted my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head, and put on my favorite flannel pajamas. I made a pot of coffee, then sat down on the couch. I planned to spend the rest of the day with my remote in my hand watching old episodes of Doctor Who on Netflix.

Four episodes later, Misty called again. I groaned, not wanting to get up from the couch and retrieve my phone from the kitchen. I was hungry and had to pee; I might as well get up anyway. Besides, what if it was an emergency? I couldn’t enjoy my shows not knowing why she called.