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“That’s not fair.” Her smile turns to a frown.
Scott Parker is Kaye’s professor. They’ve been having a sordid affair since the beginning of last semester when she enrolled in his class. I keep telling her he’s trouble, but the chick won’t listen to me.
“Our ride’s here.”
“Saved by the bell.” I’m not against giving Kaye grief.
Kaye points at our ride-share and drags me to the car.
We hop inside and head to the townhouse we share with Carmen.
Shared.
It’s the last year the three of us will live together. After the motorcade whisked Carmen away, I don’t know what’s going to happen to her. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me next year. I mean, I know what I’m doing. I’m staying in place, trading undergraduate studies at UCSF for attendance at the prestigious University of San Francisco School of Law.
Kaye is moving inland, to UC Davis, where she’ll begin her studies at Davis’s highly competitive veterinary school.
Carmen was supposed to return to UCSF in the fall to pursue a graduate degree, but I don’t know if that’s going to happen now that her father’s called her home.
Crazy to think it’s been four years. On the one hand, I feel like we’ve known one another forever. On the other hand, four years feels like I blinked and missed it.
I lucked out when I found Kaye and Carmen as roommates during our freshman year. Over the past four years, we’ve become the best of friends, tighter than tight. We call each other sisters by different mothers and misters.
Now, I wonder if I won’t be all alone in the townhouse next year? I’m not interested in breaking in new roommates, and the thought of having to do that feels exhausting. I found the best friends a girl can have in Kaye and Carmen.
Now, I’m losing them.
After a quick trip back to the townhouse, Kaye rushes upstairs to get dressed for our night on the town. I head to my bedroom, which is downstairs, and I pick out the sluttiest dress I can find, a slinky green phenomenon that barely covers my ass.
My goal?
Easy, I intend on getting laid.
If guys can go on the prowl and brag about their conquests, then I can go on the hunt and not feel like a slut.
The double standard pisses me off. Kaye may say it’s hypocritical, but I say fair’s fair.
All I want is satisfying sex. No names. No numbers. No commitments.
No emotional entanglements.
As far as I see it, sex is no different than going to a restaurant to eat. Food fills the basic need to eat. Sex fulfills my basic need to have satisfying orgasms.
And yes, that’s plural.
The moment Kaye comes downstairs, I grab my purse and meet her by the front door.
“Dayum! You look hot.” Kaye gives me an appreciative once-over.
“Do I look fuckable?”
My dress is green, sparkly, skin-tight, barely covers my ass, and I wear nothing underneath it. I know what I look like—sexy as hell. With my breasts ready to spill out at any moment, the dress hugs my curves, draws the eyes, and advertises a good time.
“You look hot.” Kaye takes a second good look. “I don’t know how you’ll manage to go the entire night without an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction.”
“It takes skill.” I give her a cheeky grin. “I’m going for fuckable. Not hot.”
“I don’t know how you fit into those sprayed-on dresses, but you look absolutely stunning.”
