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“What? What do you mean you can’t find it?” she asks, her voice rising in pitch.
“Relax, it’s here somewhere.”
I turn on the lamp next to my bed, and we both scour the sheets, the floor, under the bed…and it’s just gone. There’s only one place left to check.
“Mollie,” I say, and her head snaps up from the side of the bed.
“What? Did you find it?”
“No, but I think I know where it is. Don’t freak out,” I warn.
“Where?” she asks skeptically and stands, her naked body on display.
“Inside you.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “No. Nuh-uh. There’s no way.”
I pin her with a blank stare, waiting for her to come to the same realization. It has to be.
“Don’t you think I’d feel it if it was?”
“Lie down. Let me check.”
She hesitates before lying on her back, bent knees clamped shut. I lie on my stomach in front of them and gently pull her knees apart.
“I was just up close and personal with your pussy, baby. Relax, it’s no big deal.”
“This date just went from one-night stand to OB-GYN appointment,” she mutters, covering her eyes with the back of her hand.
I chuckle, as my palms skate along the insides of her thighs, pushing them open. I spread her lips with my thumbs, but I can’t see anything. She squirms when I hook two fingers inside her, and a little moan slips free. I feel my dick getting hard again already, and my hips automatically grind into the mattress on their own accord.
I’m just about to see how she feels about round two when I touch rubber. I fish it out and hold it up between two fingers.
“All right, Miss Mabey. The procedure went well. I didn’t run into any complications. You may expect some mild discomfort, but it’s nothing that some Tylenol won’t fix. Come back in a week and I’ll examine you again. You know, just to make sure we got everything.”
Mollie giggles, and I dispose of the condom.
“Are you…okay?” I ask, not knowing how to broach the subject of what just happened.
“What do you mean?” she asks, perplexed.
“I mean, are you on birth control, or do I need to run and get you some Plan B?”
“Oh,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean, obviously,” she tacks on at the end.
“Me, too,” I assure her.
“Can you grab my dress?” she asks, after an awkward beat of silence.
“Why?”
“Soooo, I can leave?” It comes out as a question.
“You’re leaving?”
“I mean, I just figured…” she trails off.
“You just figured, what? That our time is up? Because we still have about,” I check the alarm clock on my nightstand, “seven more hours until the sun comes up.” And there’s a lot I can do to her in seven whole hours.
