She pretty much attacked me as soon as I walked through the door. I was a horny, besotted fifteen year old virgin—who was I to say no?
We had sex a few more times, then she seemed to either get tired of me, or maybe thought it best to stop, since I was so young and she might lose her job. I know she’d told the other girls in the band, though, because once she was turning me down, the lead guitarist started getting cozy. And after her came the drummer, and then the bass player.
I wanted their approval, and they knew I was enthusiastic but completely without skill, so whenever they didn’t come right out and tell me what to do, I’d be sure to ask, every step of the way. All of them taught me how to please them, individually and as women in general, and they were lessons I learned well.
I’d also learned to do the dropping before I could get dropped, myself.
I’ve stuck with what works. And hell, I’m having a way better time being a dog.
But am I an asshat? I prefer to think I’m not.
Does Jensen bring out my inner jerkwad? Maybe, and I’d rather that she didn’t. I think it’s because she’s the only woman I see in close quarters on a damn-near daily basis. Thank God for the weekends to reset my point of view.
And everything about that rubs me the complete wrong way.
I don’t know her well enough to get her to change how she provokes me, so all I can do is change how I react to it. (See, Doc? I can self-analyze. Look at me go with all the questions in here.)
Thing is, I don’t know just what it is that she does. It’s like she walks into a room and I’m completely aware of it. My skin gets tight, my scalp feels tingly like all the hairs are standing straight on end, and my eyes keep creeping back over to her. What the hell is with that?
I need to find a way to either not spend as much time with her (like that’ll happen) or become immune to her when she’s around. Which will probably take spending even more time in her vicinity. Fucking fantastic.
I woke up when the phone rang right next to my head. Lucky for me that I hadn’t rolled over and knocked it to the floor. That thing was all glass screen and I would have cracked it for sure. Not that rolling over was even a possibility, anyway… Lita was still taking up most of the mattress.
“Hello?” At least, that’s what I tried to say, but it came out more like Mrmpho?
“Hi, Tack! Sounds like I woke you up.” Dear God, could I not escape from this woman for even one day? She sounded far too chipper for someone who, ten hours ago, was too blotto to climb up her own staircase. Her voice speared right into my head and I felt a few chunks of my brain break off. “Hey, I need a favor, once you’re up and around.”
“Mphut?” My lips were glued together and I’d only been asleep a few hours, but Jensen was apparently fluent in Incoherent.
“I need a ride to my car.”
I pried my lips apart with my tongue, hoping it had enough moisture to make headway. “What, like now?”
“No big hurry, but before dinner would be nice.”
“That, I can manage.” I covered the phone with my hand and yawned. “Lemme get a few more hours of sleep and I’ll call you.”
“It’s almost noon. How can you still be in bed?” She laughed and I swear, more of my brain went into the Slap-Chop. “Did you go back to the club after you stuffed me into bed, Tack?”
“I went home, believe it or not. Just had a hard time falling asleep.”
There was a moment of silence. Her voice was much quieter when she said, “Too keyed up after punching that guy for me?”
“Jensen, I never hit him. I peeled him off and threw him into a wall.” I let that sink in. Actually, I was buying time while I thought up a good reason for staying awake. She sure as hell didn’t need to hear the real one. “There was a good movie on when I got home.”
“Which one?”
Well, fuck me sideways. She just had to ask. “I don’t know the name. Fast cars and stuff blowing up, though.”
“It was a good movie but you don’t remember which one it was? Seriously?” Jen’s scoffy huff came through the phone loud and clear.
“I don’t need the title to recognize a good explosion.”
“Guys are weird.”
We hung up after I promised to call once I re-woke up, but it was all a stall. No way was I going to get so much as ten winks now. And I could forget squeezing in a run later; I was too zapped.
Last night’s (this morning’s?) thoughts were back in my cranium, spinning like a blender on frappe. I built the coffee pot and stripped in the kitchen for my shower, leaving the clothes in a pile on the floor.