Page 30 of Thug

“I said his dick was small and that I didn’t like guys with small dicks. He said it wasn’t. I said he was full of shit or something of the sort, I don’t remember. He shoved my hand in his pants. I squeezed his dick and said he was too small to ride this ride, ‘this ride’ being me. He took exception to the comment and pulled my shorts down. Me being shortless led to sex. It was insanely satisfying, for what it’s worth. Insanely.”

He shook his head ever so slightly. “Your stories are incredible. Sadly, it seems they always end the same. I hope you just skipped over the part where he put on a condom.”

I cringed. “There wasn’t time.”

His eyes bulged. “What?”

“There. Wasn’t. Time.” I reached for my purse and began rummaging through it. “It was a heat of the moment thing. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.” I brushed my lips with gloss and tossed the tube into my purse. “You know, one of those.”

“That’s like saying you’re going to jump from a plane, but there’s not enough time to put on your parachute,” he blurted. “That you’re going to work in the ACME acid bottling plant, but there’s not enough time to put on your protective suit. That you’re going to war, but you forgot your—”

“I get it.” I already felt like an idiot, I didn’t need him to rub it in. “Let’s move on.”

“Fine.” He forced a sigh. “Start at the beginning, hit the highlights, and don’t leave out any of the important stuff.” He leaned against the back of the booth and crossed his arms. “Go.”

I finished my wine and called for another round.

“Okay,” I said. “Here we go. He came into the bar, and he had this strut. You know the kind of walk that says, ‘I’ll kick your ass if you look at me crosswise?’ He had one of those. Actually, he looked like he invented it. So, there was that. Then, there was the confidence thing he had going on. He acted like he didn’t give two fucks whether I existed or not.”

“I bet that drove you crazy,” he said. “You’re a sucker for those arrogant asshole types.”

“Yeah,” I cooed. “So, he had a few beers and left. No sex talk, no flirting, no nothing.”

He seemed confused. “That’s the night you met?”

“Uh huh.”

“I thought you said you had sex on the night—”

“In hindsight, it was the next time we met.”

His eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

“On night number two, he came in and immediately walked up to the bar. I don’t remember what he said, but it was flirty. Kind of.” I thought of what Price and I initially talked about and came up with nothing. “Maybe I lured him behind the bar, I don’t remember. So, the argument started that I told you about earlier, and then—”

“Wait,” he snapped. “You had sex in the bar?”

“Oh.” I tried for my look of innocence, but instead looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I left that part out, didn’t I?”

“Oh. My God.” He leaned over the edge of the table and made prayer hands. “Tell me the place was empty.”

“Define empty.”

“You, this mystery man, and a bunch of empty tables,” he said. “Maybe a locked door or two.”

“Uhhm. No.”

“The doors weren’t locked?”

“A few people were there.”

“A few?”

I peered beyond him, hoping to find the waitress. “I think you’re getting hung up on small details that don’t matter.”

“How many?”

“Thirty-one, I think. Maybe thirty-two, I don’t remember.”