She would come over before her nights out and tell me how much she loved me. Then leave. Hours later, jealousy would drive me to call around, and I usually found her bar, the one where she used a fake name and let it be known she wore nothing under her skirt.
I would coax her home, difficult to do since she was letting herself go, getting very hot, feeling very desired.
Past one, she would arrive still a bit drunk and ornery to have been tracked down. I would prepared some tea and massage her feet. Relaxed, she had me lick her while she told me how hot she had gotten that evening. All about the men who -- almost? -- had her.
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