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I couldn’t stay away from her, even if I wanted to. I tap the envelope icon and type her name.
Me: Looking forward to seeing you on Mon—
I press the backspace button and start over.
Me: Make sure you have my coffee on Monday. One scoop of cream and sugar. Pick up my dry cleaning on Fifth-Fourth Street, make sure you answer all my emails unless they are personal. Forward those to me. Any questions?
Lake: Yes, sir. Anything else?
Me: Come over so I can eat your pussy. I’m hungry.
My dick aches. So formal as if we don’t know each other. I need to jack off soon before I lose my mind. An idea dawns on me, so I tap the backspace button again, erasing what I wrote and reply.
Me: Go to Venice with me this weekend?
Lake: Is it for work?
Me: No.
Lake: What’s your plan? You whisk me off, and we have a great time, then I fall in love with you?
Me: Everyone is in love with me. Something I can’t control.
Lake: Oh yes, Mr. Atlas. Everyone loves the great Atlas Conrad. Take me, old great Atlas. Take me now. Put your cock in my mouth and make sure you come all over my tongue. (Insert sarcastic emoji.) News flash for you, not everyone wants you.
Me: HAHAHAHA. There are two things wrong with your statement. 1. My dick is too big to fit in your small mouth, but feel free to try to suck it. 2. Everyone wants me. Including you.
Lake: Don’t be so full of yourself.
Another text pops up, and I click on it.
Lake: What would we do if we were to go?
Me: We’ll go bike riding, eat good food, I’ll take you to a fashion museum, then I’ll eat you out for dessert on my yacht. I have a mansion overlooking the ocean.
Lake: Sounds romantic… I didn’t know you had a romantic bone in your body.
Me: I don’t. I know how to show you a good time. I remember a while back when your family had dinner at my parents’ and you told me Venice was your favorite vacation spot.
She reads my messages before her name pops up on the screen. I answer on the second ring.
“What game are you playing, Atlas?” she asks.
I unpeel the phone from my face, tap the speaker button, and sip my bourbon. “I’m not playing any games, Boots.”
I hear the television booming before the noise quietens.
“Bullshit.” She sighs. “We will never work.”
I set the phone down on the dresser, remove my shirt and pants, and throw on my pajamas. “Why do you dislike me so much?”
“Because… you’re arrogant and you think the world revolves around you. You walk around like you’re better than everyone else.”
“All are true.” I smirk.
“You’re not better than me,” she snaps.
“I never thought I was better than you. You’re better than me.”
