Page 37 of Intoxicated
Cher winces. Good to know she hassomeempathy. We’re on a roll here. “The men I date aren’t much better. They’re either raging sociopaths looking for a young, tight hole to fuck or are so blinded by their privilege they don’t realize how badly they’re razing the neighborhood around them. It gets tiring. Some of them are decent deep down. Some of them made me laugh. Some were good lovers. Some would’ve been great dads, or already were to the children they had. Except there’s always something, you know? At some point, it’s time to bail.”
The more I study her, the more the picture ofCher Liebermancomes together. “You don’t want that at all, do you?”
She slightly turns her head in my direction. “What do you mean?”
“Marriage, family… a steady, long-term monogamous relationship with a guy who lives on the other side of town you see three times a week. That’s not your style. You’re too independent. All of your dreams of your future include you and only you. There’s no room for another person. Maybe not even a pet. You like your independence. You prefer to be alone.”
The cock of her head does wonders for my imagination. What is that look in her eye? Is she seeing a new side of me that she didn’t consider before? Am I alluring her with my insight? Or is she about to tell me how wrong I am? I finish my margarita and await her response.
“Yes, I don’t very much care for the thought of getting married right now. I don’t mind relationships so much, but I have very high standards for the people I spend more than a few weeks with. It’s not always about the money. I simply don’t want to be tied down to anyone for a long while. Maybe not ever. It’s hard to make men who are used to throwing their money at people and getting unbridled access understand that point of view.”
“Especially if you’ve been selling them a different image of yourself, I bet.”
She coyly smiles, as if I’ve dug too deep and must learn to mind my manners. “You play a game long enough, you start to forget what your real personality is like. I’ve been doing it for so long that maybe thatismy personality. I love the game of seduction and watching a man completely give himself over to me. The first time we have sex is supposed to be one of the greatest moments of his life. Never mind everything else that comes before or after.” She narrows her eyes, but that smile does not fade. “So?” she asks. “What about it? Was that sex some of the best of your life?”
I can’t tell if this is part of her game, or if she’s asking in earnest. How should I respond? Making her think it really was would simply be playing into her hand. Refuting it would either get me called a liar, or she’ll be so offended our conversation will come to a premature end.
Suppose I can only answer honestly.
“It was definitely memorable,” I say with a grin. “Top tier. Maybe notthebest, but most men are gonna be all about the hot woman who storms into their apartment and begs to get hit hard. Between the legs, that is.” I set aside my glass, allowing me to lean in a little closer while still maintaining some personal space. “Now, you tell me. How was it for you? Thinking about round two right now?” Hey, a guy has to try when he has nothing else going on in his life.
Cher pulls in her bottom lip and bats her eyes. “You’d love for me to say yes. Because you’ve spent the past twenty minutes thinking about how you’re gonna ask me back to your place so you can fuck me again.”
“Maybe notright away,” I confess. “We could put off the sex. Ease into it this time. Maybe watch some movies. Order in dinner. You know, that stuff we were supposed to do on our date we never had?”
She sighs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not hot to think about, though.”
“So you liked it?”
“You’re trying to tell me you think Ididn’tlike it?”
“Now you’re playing mind games with me. I much prefer it when a woman I want to ask out for real doesn’t do that. I’m not your mark. You’re not my mark. We can be mature adults and have a casual fling, even if we think the other person is the scum of the universe.”
“Isn’t that a kind of self-flagellation? Fucking someone who makes you barf outside of the bedroom?”
“I make youbarf?”
“Some of the things I read about your exes…”
“Could say the same about you, Cher.” It’s only now that I realize her name sounds likeshare.Sharing. Rhymes with caring. Wonder if she was absent that day in kindergarten when they taught “sharing is caring.”
“There are a lot of things you could say about me,” she sighs.
“Is one of those things an implication that you’ll come over to my place now? I’ve got my car in the clinic parking lot. Could get us there in twenty minutes.”
“That’s generous, considering it’s almost rush hour.”
“You still haven’t said no,” I say.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“If you have to think about it, that means you want to do it. Come on, Cher, go with your instincts. I am.”
She turns her whole body to me, giving me a grand view of her little sliver of cleavage and the cinch of her waist.
It’s that look in her eye that tells me I’m about to have my face in those tits.
