• Offered sex on a silver platter, Tim still needs his ego massaged
Image: PIXABAY
‘The Death of Sex’ is the dramatic title, and I’m waiting on Tim, who is part of my research. Meanwhile, the ticks turn blue and my ex is typing. I had sent him a message asking if he wanted to come over before I sent one to Tim.
Him: Hey, hope you’re ok and keeping safe.
Me: Yup. You?
Him: Great. I don’t do that other thing anymore though.
Me: What thing?
Him: You.
I pause for a long minute and re-read his message. Is he blowing me off in an extremely rude fashion? Thank goodness Tim is on the way.
Me: Was texting because I have your cheque and thought you could use it in these tough times.
The cheque I’m referring to is some money I got off him the last time I saw him. I was to pay him back when I was ready. That was obviously not the reason I had texted him but a girl has her pride.
Him: Oh, the cheque. Yes, I remember. You’re an angel. Thanks so much! I thought you wanted something else.
Me: What did you think I wanted?
The doorbell rings. It’s Tim. Did he fly here? I go open the door. We share a hug and I lead him to the couch.
“Selfie!” I say and snap a quick picture of us.
A message comes in.
Him: Well, you and I used to hook up quite often, so I thought...
Me: Sorry, I don’t do that anymore either.
I forward the selfie I have just taken with Tim.
Me: Hubby and I are in quarantine. Heart emojis.
Pride restored.
Him: Congrats. I didn’t know.
Me: I’m actually making dinner now, so good talking to you. Take care.
I quickly block his number and toss my phone on the table. What an ass. I turn to Tim.
“Want to have sex?” I ask.
“What?” he asks, looking genuinely shocked.
“Do you want to have sex?” I ask again, wondering what he thought the picture of my breasts was for.
“Just like that?” he asks. He looks flustered.
“Yeah…” I say moving towards him.
“Can we talk a little first?” he asks.
Talk? What the hell does he want to talk about? I shrug and sit down.
“How are you feeling? How’s the head?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Right as rain,” I respond, wondering just how much he knows about why I was in the hospital.
“They told us you were mugged,” he adds. “It must have been terrifying.”
I say nothing, wondering how long this small talk will drag on for.
“I’m glad you’re ok. We miss you at the office,” he says.
“Things seem to be running smoothly without me,” I say, and I almost kick myself for sounding insecure.
“It’s not the same,” he says. “But she’s good, she knows her stuff,” he says of my replacement.
“Yes, that’s why I hired her,” I say.
Is this why people don’t hire competent people? So that they never have to deal with the ship sailing smoothly whether you are there or not?
I should be happy my deputy is doing well but I’m not. I want her to fail. I want them to need me. To look for me. To beg me to bail them out.
“Good call,” he says. “Everyone likes her.”
This boy is testing my last nerve.
“Why did you call me?” he asks. “I mean, I know why, but why me?”
I look at him for a long minute and it hits me that even when you give a man no-strings-attached sex on a silver platter, he still needs assurances regarding his ability to pull a woman.
Oh, crap. I have to build his ego up, to get him hard.
Edited by T Jalio