Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I step back into my apartment and fall backwards against the door, daydreaming about what just happened. I just had a hot encounter with a handsome stranger, and my flushed cheeks and vibrating curves are testament to that. But then, it dawns on me: we didn’t exchange contact information! All I have is his name: John Miller, and that’s a very common moniker.
Will this just be a perfect, spontaneous memory? Were we only meant to meet for one night and then part ways?
I climb into bed, dizzy and sated, yet wondering what the universe will bring next.
7
Megan
* * *
It’s Friday morning and I’m sitting at my desk with my mocha latte and praline bun. It’s just like any other Friday at work, yet today feels different. Today, I sit with a secret. The exhilaration of last night’s escapade is still coursing through my veins, and to be honest, I’m still a little sore down there. John was enormous, and I wince a bit, shifting in my seat.
But it’s a good discomfort. I replay the scene in my head over and over again, and I can feel all the sensations as if I am still on the soft grass in Central Park. Even this morning, I could still feel John inside of me, and literally became heady and dizzy while on the subway.
Now, I sit at my desk, secretly reveling at the miraculous outcome of my impulsive and, dare I say, reckless behavior. And yet, one question still sits heavily on my mind.
Will I ever see John Miller again?
I tell myself to play it cool. I’m sure he’s looking for me. A man like that wouldn’t just forget the night we had together.
Or would he?
I can’t take it any longer. I flip open my laptop and pull up google.
I type “John Miller New York City” in the search bar. Unfortunately, dozens of pages load with hundreds of John Millers, ranging from doctors, real estate agents, to arrest listings. None of them seem to be my mystery man from last night. Why must he have such a common name?
Suddenly, a voice interrupts my search.
“Hey girl! How was your date with Brian last night?” Mira hops onto her corner of my desk. I panic and slam my laptop shut, a look of horror flashing across my face. Then, I try to pretend like nothing’s wrong.
“It went exactly how you would expect it to.” Hopefully her curiosity about my bad date will distract her from my guilty reaction upon her approach.
“Whoa whoa whoa, wait a minute. What were you just looking at? Are you buying sex toys at work Megan?”
I blush.
“Oh my god Mira, don’t be ridiculous. I’m just a little edgy this morning. I did go out with Brian last night, remember? I think I deserve to be cut a little bit of slack.”
She takes the bait, sliding across the desk to get closer to me.
“So, dish! Start with the worst part. Did you bang him again? You did, didn’t you? You’re such a lush!”
I shake my head.
“I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to.”
“Wait, whaaaat? Brian turned YOU down? No way.”
“No, not exactly. But he did bail. It was the strangest thing. Out of nowhere he just started stammering and sweating and then he ran off, saying he had some paperwork to fax out to corporate. I was so bewildered. I mean, who still faxes stuff?”
Mira shrugs.
“Leave it to Brian to harass you like that and then run off. What a piece of trash.”
She looks at me closely a moment, licking her lips. I can almost see the lightbulb go off above her head.
“Wait, but you totally got laid last night. I can see it, girlfriend. You’re glowing. You’re all giddy and blushing, and you’ve been staring off into space all morning.” She pauses, and then another lightbulb goes off.
“And your laptop! You never hide your screens from me. Did you meet someone after Brian left?”
I look around, so embarrassed.
“Mira, please! Keep it down. Remember, we don’t want him to hear his name three times because remember what happened last time?” She makes an exaggerated gagging motion at this and we both break out in laughter. And then, like an evil genie in a bottle, Brian does in fact appear.
He saunters over nonchalantly, as greasy and evil as ever. His bangs look so shiny I wonder if he used an entire tub of gel on them alone.
“Hey, sorry for taking off like that last night. You know, important faxes and all. Take this for my half of the tab.” He hands me a ten-dollar bill, and I look at it, dumbfounded. Real classy.
“Just keep it Brian,” I say. “It’s okay, I got it.” Of course, I didn’t pick up the tab last night, but he doesn’t need to know. Instead, Brian turns bright red and childishly stomps off, stuffing the bill back into his wallet.