Reese

My eyelids feel glued shut, but the sun is shining. I stretch, and my foot brushes warm skin. With an effort I force my eyes open, and I see that JC’s still here. I guess I kind of figured maybe he wouldn’t be when I woke up. Don’t people usually sneak out in movies?

But he’s still here. On his stomach, breathing deeply. His face is turned toward me and he’s looking just as good as he did last night.

Last night. I’m thinking of it and feeling hot and a little faint. Last night was…So. Good. But still, I’ve never done the morning after with a stranger thing, before. Is it supposed to be awkward or…? He stirs, and I get really still, but he doesn’t wake. He sighs deeply, turns his head in the other direction.

I slide from between the sheets and into my bathroom. After closing the door behind me, I start the shower and look at my reflection in the mirror before it fogs over. I owe Bridgette...something expensive. My makeup is still almost flawless. Thanks to JC and last night, I’ve got virtually no lipstick left on my lips, but the rest of me is in pretty good shape. My eyeliner is hardly even smudged. It must be sorcery.

I swing open my medicine cabinet and take out my birth control. We used condoms, but I want to ensure that everything stays...on schedule. I fill a cup near the sink with cold tap water and swallow a pill down. I take a second pill from another bottle, swallow it, and then I brush my teeth. After I take my hair out of the band I pulled it up into last night, I step into the shower.

The water is hot, but I’m covered in goosebumps thinking about JC. I’m trailing my fingers across my skin, thinking of every spot that he touched and kissed last night. I’m pretty sure there’s not a single inch of me that he didn’t explore. It’s not only been awhile since I had sex, but it’s been a long while since I was with someone new. Couple that with the fact that this someone new is someone that I never laid eyes on before last night….well, I wasn’t sure what to expect really.

But last night was...phenomenal. Amazing. Fantastic. All sorts of adjectives are coming to mind and I have to laugh at myself a little. Sometime between the first and second time last night I finally picked up my phone to let Bridgette and Sasha know I was OK. My text consisted mostly of emojis and lots of exclamation points. Bridge already told me she wants details.

I think of those details and a shudder goes through me. My eyes close and I’m breathing deeply, trying to steady my rapidly beating heart. If I thought the dancing was good and the kisses were sexy, it was nothing compared to how everything was...after that.

How everything was...twice.

After the first time, I told him I was hungry. Unless I’m ready to pass out, I always want to eat after sex. So after he laughed at me, he joined me in the kitchen while I made french fries. Which we proceeded to eat in bed.

When I told him I was surprised that he could dance, that I expected him to be awful just because he’s white, he told me, while laughing hysterically, that I clearly had some racial biases that I needed to rethink. Then he kissed me dizzy and that was the end of that conversation.  

After the second time, I remember us talking, laughing, sharing lazy kisses. And then nothing. I don’t know who fell asleep first but we were both exhausted. Completely and totally blissfully spent.

And this morning, he’s still in my bed. I don’t know what, if anything, that means. But I’m kind of hoping it means that I get to have him one more time before he decides it’s time to go. Before we never see each other again.

I commence with showering and I’m feeling something I don’t fully want to admit to. I had a lot of fun with JC last night. Not just in the carnal sense. And I kind of don’t want him to just disappear into the atmosphere. But even though I’ve never done this before, I know how these things work. He’ll leave, and become a pleasant but distant memory.  

I choose to ignore the way that knowledge makes me feel and turn off the water. I briefly consider the fact that he could’ve left while I was in the shower, but I really, really hope not. Once I’m dried off and lotioned up, I wrap a towel around me and take a deep breath to go back into my room.

JC

I sense sunlight on my face and groan against it. I stretch out and my eyes open slowly to unfamiliar surroundings. It takes me a moment to get my bearings. I’m not in the hotel.

Oh. Yeah. Reese.

I think her name and I’m smiling. Last night was...last night was the first night I’ve had like that in a very, very long time. And it was very, very good.

Reese is...Reese is something else. At least she was last night. Amazing. Fun. Responsive. Very, very responsive. My smile is huge. It’s been a long time since I had a first time with someone and this first time was fan-fucking-tastic. Well, the first and second time.

I turn onto my back and put my hands behind my head. Laying like this I’m remembering the way she looked on top of me last night. Moving on top of me. Using me to make herself feel good. Making me feel insanely good in the process. My hands sliding over every bit of her smooth, soft skin. Hearing her whimpers, her sighs, the sexy little things she was saying, the way my name sounded in her mouth.

Her body is...a work of art. She’s soft in all of the right places, not soft in all of the right places. I’ve seen her from several different angles now, and every angle is her best one.

And her lips? Those full, sexy lips? I like her lips against mine. And I really like her lips against my...well, let’s just say that when we were done last night, that red, red lipstick was long gone. She did an awful lot with her mouth last night.

And she’s vocal. I love when a woman tells me exactly, in no uncertain terms, what she likes about what I’m doing to her. And last night? She told me. A lot.

I’m hard. I mean, I was already hard because...well, morning. But thinking about her, thinking about last night, makes me harder.

And it’s the sex, but it’s not just the sex.

It’s the fact that, after the first time, after she could catch her breath, she told me she gets hungry after sex. And she proceeded to jump out of bed to make french fries, in nothing but a t-shirt. And she brought them back to the bed where we ate them together.

It’s the fact that she told me, with a completely straight face, that she was pleasantly surprised on the dance floor when she realized I can dance. Because, she said casually, white guys, particularly drunk ones, usually have no rhythm.

I also can’t lie that some of it’s the fact that she genuinely seems to have no idea who I am.

OK, for the record, I’ve slept with fans. It sounds arrogant, but it’s par for the course. A lot of women know who I am. And not to say that I’ve necessarily sought that out, but...it’s happened. Sometimes women don’t recognize me right away, but it’s a rare thing for a woman to have no clue who I am. And if Reese does, then she’s the best damn actress ever.

It’s felt good, spending time with someone new who isn’t interested in me for any reason other than the fact that she’s interested in me. It’s fun. Reese is fun. And I’m laying here thinking that I have to leave soon, and I don’t like the way that makes me feel. Because I know what this is, and I know she knows what this is. But what I want, aside from her help in, ah, relieving me of my current discomfort, is to spend more time with her.  

I don’t realize that the shower’s been going until I hear it stop. And since I’m in bed alone, I’m assuming she’s behind that closed door. Thinking about her naked and wet on the other side...well, I hope she comes from behind that door really, really soon.

I hear some shuffling in the bathroom and a few minutes later, it’s swinging open.

She’s standing there, curly hair dripping down around her shoulders, wrapped in a fluffy, yellow bath towel. I smile at her, hoping it’s at least kind of seductive.

“Morning,” I say.

She blushes and smiles back. “Morning. I didn’t wake you up, did it?”

She’s cute, standing there with wet hair, and naked save for that towel. I’m trying to decide the best way to get her to drop the towel and come back to bed. I would like her to be naked and very, very wet, underneath me. Or on top of me. Or even in front of me. There is a particular part of my anatomy that is dying to spend some more time with her and it’s not picky about how that happens.

“Nah,” I say, stretching out. “But now that I’m awake, what are the chances I can get you to come back to bed?” Ok, I’m not smooth or cool. But sometimes I’m really direct and that catches women off guard.