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“Having sex with inebriated women isn’t my style.” I test out the waters and let go of her—I don’t want her to think I’m trying to physically control her in her own home, which, at the moment, I am. Bad idea. She immediately reaches for my hard-on. Despite her tattered state, my damn cock remains hard. That body of hers is every man’s fantasy, sleek and muscular, yet still soft and inviting. And those gazelle legs … I imagine being tangled up with her, legs wrapped around my waist as I hold her against the wall and fuck her until she screams my name. That thought then shifts to an image of those legs spread wide as I eat her pussy. These thoughts do nothing to settle the hammer in my pants, and the knowledge that I might be stuck with this boner all night with no way to relieve it, brings me a twinge of disappointment.
I close my eyes, trying to get the thoughts of fucking her out of my head. It’s just making me get hard to the point of it being painful, and right now, there’s nothing I can do for release.
“That looks yummy,” she says, grabbing my dick and licking her lips.
Jesus Christ. This is going to be a difficult one to say no to. I grumble my disappointment.
She continues to get handsy. She’s like a goddamned octopus with those things, her fingers like tentacles latching onto me. I have to be more forceful with her, and I squeeze her wrists tighter to stop her advances. She lets out an annoyed grunt when she doesn’t get her way. Drunk people are like children. They’re impossible to reason with. I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Let’s just do it. I’m not inebr…” She stumbles on the word and tries again. “Iberi …” Eventually she just gives up and makes a series of mumbled sounds to replace the word.
This time I do laugh, but I keep it under my breath so I don’t hurt her feelings. Whatever made her decide to get this drunk must’ve bad.
Her dog comes up to me, leaning against my side in a dog’s version of a hug.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” I say.
Her face lights up. “Now you’re talking!”
I roll my eyes and shake my head, hiding my smile.
The dog follows me as I lead the woman down the hallway toward the bedroom. There are two rooms; one is a cluttered office. The other isn’t as frilly as I would’ve expected for a woman’s bedroom. It has gray walls, and a black and white striped comforter on a king-sized bed. A shock of color here and there keeps the room from looking plain. Makes me think a man might’ve lived with her at one point, but there are no signs of one being here recently. The closet door is open. One half is full of dresses and shoes. The other half is empty and hangers are slung across the floor like the aftermath of a hurricane in department store. Whoever left this place, left in a hurry.
I lay the woman down on the bed and take off the sexy black heels she wears and tuck her in under the covers. She pats the empty space beside her.
I smile at the offer. “What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Cadie,” she mumbles.
“That’s a pretty name. I’m going to get you some coffee.”
“I don’t want coffee,” she says through a yawn. “I want you.”
God, she’s making this difficult. “I’ll be right back.”
The dog trots behind me as I walk into the kitchen. Going through the cupboards, all I find is an expensive dark roast. I can’t even find a coffee maker, only a French Press, and I have no idea how to use it. I’m a simple Folgers kind of guy.
Water it is. I grab a bottle from the fridge and take it to her. When I get back to the room, she’s passed out. Her hair is splayed in a web across her face, lips slightly parted. I can tell by the way she snores like a truck driver that she won’t be waking up any time soon.
I move her hair off her face and tuck it behind her ears. Even through the mess of makeup, it’s easy to tell that she’s beautiful. Hard to believe such a beautiful creature can make such a horrendous noise. I juggle with the idea of recording her and sending the video to her once she sobers up, but that’s cruel, and I suspect I’ll be the only one laughing.
I put the bottle of water next to her on the nightstand.
She seems so vulnerable passed out with a stranger in her room. I shudder to think what could have happened if she’d called anyone other than me. I’m not comfortable leaving her alone in this state. Especially after seeing the broken candlestick on the ground. Safety doesn’t seem to be much of a priority while she’s hammered. Maybe there’s a friend of hers I can call. I contemplate going through her phone, but even if there’s a list of people I can call, I don’t know which ones I can trust. What if I called a co-worker or some sleazy guy she picked up in a bar? Or her boss, and managed to get her fired somehow?
My phone keeps chirping in my pocket. I pick it up and read the messages. There are several texts from different women wanting me to come over. I could be sweaty and rolling around in the sheets with some hot, naked bombshell right now, but no, I’m here babysitting a complete stranger.
I sigh and look at the woman in the bed, knowing I’m not going anywhere tonight, and I’m certainly not getting laid. Clearly this chick is going through something. I can’t help but wonder why she decided to get so wasted.
I look down at the dog. His collar says ‘Hercules.’ I flip the tag over, and on the other side it says, ‘My mommy loves me, please bring me home,’ followed by her address and phone number. Hercules’s big copper eyes stare back at me. He wags his tail so hard his entire backside moves. “Looks like you’re my date for the night, buddy,” I say.
I order a pizza and camp on the couch. Hercules climbs onto the couch with me and I give him my crusts. He chews with vigor and leaves a trail of slimy drool on my pants when he’s done. The dog and I are practically the same size. He lays his head on my lap and we watch Shark Week on the Discovery channel until we fall asleep.
