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A one-night stand.
Rightfully so.
He had earned it.
I mean, there I was, offering to stroke him off in a bathroom stall.
He commanded more.
I obliged.
That’s where it should have ended.
Now… where did it actually end?
With me crawling out of a bathroom window, almost dying.
How did that happen?
It went like this…
I spent the entire week at work, closing up a very large and lucrative deal for our marketing team. A seven-figure deal (thank you very much). My life revolved around that deal.
I had barely seen Dave all week.
No sweat off my back.
We were already casually beginning the descent of the relationship.
Which I was totally fine with.
I figured by then instead of ripping it off like a sticky bandage to a fresh cut, we’d just float down to the ground and both realize it was time to move on.
No hard feelings.
No heartache at all.
A hug. A kiss on the cheek.
And some decent memories.
Fiona, how long until you come? I’m holding back here. I want you to come first.
Nothing more romantic than that, huh?
Dave always meant well though.
So when the end of the week came, he had the great idea of going out.
Back to the place where we first met.
By then I was so dead tired and in need of a drink, I would have gone anywhere with him.
Meaning I failed to pick up certain hints.
Hint #1: the location.
Hint #2: the way Dave was dressed…
