So Rob has decided to fall asleep and I came for D, dammit! What the hell is going on? I lean towards him and place my head on his exposed chest. He embraces me but doesn’t stir.
I try and reach for what I think is his D and start to stroke it. Up and down. It’s pretty hard. Ya, I knew he wanted me, the bugger! Trying to front and shit. I go lower to fondle his balls and I encounter something hard. Four hard little balls on this nigga’s main balls. What the hell? I spread out my palm for a better feel. It’s his damn hand! Why would I think his hand is his D? Just how drunk am I? I burst out laughing. This is hilarious.
“Samantha, I’m trying to sleep,” he says. “What’s so damn funny?”
I explain to him what happened, and I might be slurring, but he doesn’t seem to find any of it particularly humourous.
“I have a presentation tomorrow. I need to sleep,” he says firmly.
“Baby, you know you sleep better after you get some,” I say, reaching for his real D. I find it. Or what’s left of it. It’s as limp as a chewed rag doll. I try and stroke it to revive it and he shoves my hand away.
“No, Samantha!” he says.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I ask, realising he is serious.
“Look, you don’t get to show up to my place drunk as hell and think I’m just going to sleep with you,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask, genuinely perplexed.
“It doesn’t work like that. Sex is all you want?” he says, his voice rising.
This nigga is tripping. Why does he say it like it’s a bad thing?
“I want you, baby. What’s wrong with that?” I ask.
“If you had called me earlier, asked about my day, I’d be on top of you right now,” he says.
Wait. What? Is this nigga crazy? He sounds so … needy. What kind of a man craves an emotional connection? Don’t they all just screw on autopilot?
“Why did you let me come over?” I ask, wondering why I didn’t accept the advances of one of those nice men hitting on me tonight.
“Because I wanted you to be safe. I don’t want you driving around in your state,” he says. “Now try and get some sleep.”
I try. I really do. But I can’t sleep. This virile hot guy is lying next to me and I’m horny as hell. I flash back on all the years I have done this to men. Is this how they feel? Is this a blue balls scenario in reverse? I hear a noise. A rustling among a pile of his things in the corner. What is that? I sit up.
“Do you hear that?” I ask him.
He doesn’t respond.
“I think it’s a rat. Do you have freaking vermin in your room?” I ask, trying to peer through the darkened room.
“Just ignore it,” he says.
How the hell does one ignore a rat? I read once that they can chew on your ear in the middle of the night while you sleep, and gently blow as they nibble so you don’t feel it. This nigga thinks I’m going to let a creature chew my ear off and I didn’t even get some? He must be crazy! I slide off the bed and start getting dressed.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Look, I didn’t come here because I’m destitute. I’m going home. Where there is no vermin,” I say.
He lands a fist on his pillow, the first sign of any emotion this evening, but doesn’t say anything.