Page 40 of Intoxicated
“You know damn well how old I am.”
“Do you know how oldIam?”
“Old enough to not be sayingdank pussyto me.”
“I had no idea that a woman who dares me to do dirty things to her would have a problem with my vocabulary choices. Aren’t you the one getting turned on by me calling it your cunt last week?”
I push my hair out of my face and shrug. “Different context. I’m not about to start talking about your dank dick. Makes it sound like it’s old, cold, and musty.”
“If anything, I’m comparing your vagina to the sweetest weed on the market. That’s a compliment! I’d love it if you compared my dick to dank weed!”
“Stop sayingdank,oh, my God.”
“Did I discover one of your squicky words, Ms. Lieberman?”
“Yes! Happy now?”
“Oh, ecstatic.”
Don’t know what I expect when I steal a look in his direction. His cocky attitude on full display? His lips moving across his teeth and his eyebrows waggling? His food baby now nine months along and ready to pop?
He smirks at me, but it’s not a full-blown grin. Not the kind I anticipate. Drew would rather size me up and trace my reactions. Not that I will deign to give him any. He has to work harder than some bad jokes.
“What?” he asks, as innocent as a little cherub about to bite off your tit. “I’m not going to say it again if you really hate it.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m a man of my word.” Drew sits up. Before I dare imagine him coming in my direction, he gets a whiff of himself and declares that he needs to brush his teeth. And might take a shower while he’s at it.
“If you think I’m joining you,” I say as he cleans up the garbage and takes it to the trash can in the kitchen, “you’re nuts. I prefer to marinate in my post-dinner perfume.”
“You really are one of the guys, huh?”
“In my skirts, heels, and big, generous cleavage.”
Drew cocks his head on his way to the bathroom, his fly still down and his shirt crawling up his torso. “Was way bigger the other day. You’re not wearing a pushup bra today.”
“Does that disappoint you?”
He mimicsa littlewith his thumb and forefinger. Typical.
“I fully expect you to still be here when I get back!” he calls from the bathroom. Water sprays. A T-shirt lands outside the door. Before I get a full view of the goods, Drew slowly closes the door. I’d presume that he locked it, but considering the kind of relationship we have so far…
This is my chance to run, isn’t it? Pick up my bag, mentally thank him for the free drink and Chinese food, and head home to sleep in my doghouse.
That’s what I should do. Drew’s a jerk and doesn’t deserve my dank pussy.
I think I’ll wait until my dinner settles a little more, though. Don’t want to get sick on my streetcar ride home, right?
Right.
