Page 2 of Just a Little Prick

Erica looked down at me, grinning. “Buy me one more shot and we’ll make it my place.”

“Done.” I waved for the bartender, a new guy I didn’t know well yet. I slapped down a twenty and ordered two shots of Jack.

Erica knocked hers back like a pro, tapping the shot glass twice on the counter as she put it down. I downed mine, then stood, tucking the napkin in my back pocket.

She grabbed my arm and purred, “It’s close. Walking distance.”

* * * * *

Erica threw her arms around my neck, kissing me. Her mouth opened against mine. Her tongue flicked against mine. I slid my hand under her shirt. My fingers traced up her soft skin until they found the band of her bra.

I unhooked it before taking her shirt off.

She pulled back from the kiss. Her eyes shone with delight, or maybe alcohol.

Either way, she was into it. So was I.

“C’mere,” she mumbled, dragging me into another kiss. She started to walk backward. I put my hands on her hips to steady her. Her hands found my belt, pulling on it to lead me.

We made it to her bedroom, throwing our shirts to the floor. I unzipped her jeans. She let me wiggle them down her hips. She had on a red lacy thong underneath.

I smiled.

“You like it?” she asked. She turned, giving me a view of the back. Her ass was delicious. I grabbed it, giving both cheeks a firm squeeze.

“Baby, yes,” she moaned. She bent over, her hands on the bed to support her weight.

I pushed my jeans and boxer-briefs down, stepping out of them. I bent just long enough to grab my wallet and pull a condom from inside.

When I looked up, Erica was still, silent. She had one hand pressed to her stomach.

“You okay?” I asked.

She vomited all over the bed.

Well, that was the end of that.

She finished puking and started to sag. I reached out to catch her, pulling her back from the puddle on the bedspread.

“Okay,” I said, sighing. “Come on. Let’s get you lying down.”

“No,” she slurred. “I wanna fuck!”

“Not when you’re puking on yourself.” I pushed the puke-filled comforter aside and guided her to lie down. Before I could pull the blankets over her, she was asleep.

I sighed and dressed again, then pulled the dirty comforter off the bed. She’d have to deal with it tomorrow. I was too drunk to go anywhere, so I pulled the sheet back and slid in beside her.

Maybe I’d have better luck tomorrow.

* * * * *

I woke the following morning to the sound of my phone buzzing. Rolling over, I grabbed it from the floor, where it was still in the pocket of my jeans.

Benny.

Where the fuck are you?

I looked at the time at the top of my phone and swore. Ten-thirty. I should’ve been at the shop already.

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