Sasha (Mixed Drinks #1)

by Rae Matthews

  All this thinking has me horny for Bash again. I say again because it seems that every time I think of him, I start to become very, well, let’s just say aware of my vagina. I really want to see him again, and the vibe from his text messages tells me that he feels the same way. I just wish we could find some time to ourselves. But if it is this hard to see each other after only one date, how could anything really happen between us?

  I hear a knock on the door while I’m just about to drown myself completely in my soon-to-be third bowl of ice cream. I’m sitting here alone in my apartment, snuggled in my favorite pink, footed pajamas. I look over at the clock and see that even though it is only 7:00 pm, I wasn’t expecting anybody to stop over. I take one more bite of mint chocolate chip ice and head for the door. It’s probably just Betty, hungry as always.

  I open the door, and holy shit it’s Bash. Fuck me. I’m in my goddamn footed pajamas, with no makeup on, and my hair is in a rat’s nest of a bun. We are not at this level in our semi-relationship for him to just stop over without warning. Shit, doesn’t he know the rules here? You must give a minimum of thirty minutes warning to all girlfriends or potential girlfriends before just stopping by, so that we can make ourselves appear as though we always lay around our houses looking fucking amazing 24/7. How does he not know this!

  “Oh I’m sorry, are you not feeling well?” Bash asks in a very apologetic tone.

  No, fuck stick, I feel just fine. I just do not feel the need to dress to impress for me, myself, and I at home on a Friday night, when the plan is to gorge myself on ice cream, thinking about what I could have had with you, and then to play with some of my bedroom toys, giving myself a fucking earth-shattering orgasm before I fall fast asleep. So if you don’t like what you see, you can just go fuck a pogo stick up your ass. That’s what I really wanted to say, although that might come off as a little too harsh.

  “Um, no I feel fine. I was just relaxing, eating a bowl of ice cream and getting ready to watch a movie.” I say, giving him a go fuck yourself smile.

  I look on as his face turns beet red with embarrassment. Fucker! But I quickly change my mood when I see that he is holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. Damn it, I’m such a fucking bitch. Here I am whining that we haven’t been able to see each other, he surprises me with flowers and wine, and my first reaction is to silently tell him to go fuck himself. Back off guys, I’m a fucking winner!

  “Oh shit. I’m so sorry. I guess I just assumed you looked great rolling out of bed.” He says, stumbling over his tongue.

  “Um, are you implying that I don’t look great now, and that I actually look sick when I’m not in a bikini or low-cut shirt?” I respond with a hint of confusion in my voice.

  Ok, I might be fucking with him now just a little because, well, he kind of deserves it, and maybe I really am just a little bit of a bitch.

  “Oh fuck, no I mean you look great, I just haven’t seen you like this before so I guess I was caught off guard. I mean surprised, I mean-” he shakes his head and continues to word vomit. “I mean, I’m just gonna shut up now and hope that the flowers and the wine make up for my mouth.”

  “I think there are other ways your mouth could make it up to me, besides relying on flowers and wine.” I give him a cute smile, letting him know he’s off the hook.

  His jaw drops and he gives me an awkward smile. I’ve had my fun, and he has suffered long enough. I grab the wine and ask him if he wants a glass now or later. He opts to have a glass now and follows me inside, closing the door behind him. As I grab two glasses and open the wine, I look back to see he has taken a seat on my couch, clearly still a little embarrassed. I’m actually kind of happy about this. I shouldn’t be, but I am. It means that I’m not the only one making an ass of myself, and then stressing over what he thinks about it. He is probably sitting there, reliving the moment over and over again. I should really let him know that it’s ok and that I’m over it.

  “Hey Bash, I thought you had plans tonight?” I will get him talking, and then I will let him slide these awesomely cool footie pajamas off of me. That should let him know all is forgiven.

  “I did, but they changed at the last minute, so I thought I would surprise you,” he replies.

  “Well, it was really sweet of you, and I’m glad things worked out tonight.” I give him a smile and finish pouring the wine into our glasses.

  As I hand Bash his glass, he gives me a full once-over, up and down, as I take a seat next to him. Oh boy, here it comes. His embarrassment is behind us, and he is about to let loose on me. Go ahead, I can take it. I fucking love these pajamas, and I don’t care who you are, everyone must respect the footie pajama.

  Bash’s eyes finally meet mine and he just starts to grin. He takes a sip of his wine, but before I know what is happening, he reaches over and grabs my glass. He moves to put them both on the coffee table and then returns his attention to me. Slowly moving closer, he brings his lips to my ear.

  “I think my mouth has some apologizing to do,” he whispers softly into my ear.

  I melt instantly, not unlike the bowl of ice cream I have abandoned for the chance to have a repeat performance of our last date. Bash kisses my neck and brings his hand up to the zipper lying on my chest. He slowly moves the zipper down a few inches, just enough to reach in and cup my newly exposed breast. He moves his lips down and gently uses his tongue to draw a circle around my nipple and then gives a soft gently blow, forcing my nipple to stand at attention. He moves over to my other nipple, not wanting to make it feel left out, and repeats his actions, sending my vajayjay into a panic, as if he was forgetting all about her, and she was getting jealous.

  Bash returns to my zipper and moves it down a little more, exposing my belly button. He slowly moves his lips toward my exposed skin and starts kissing. Reaching his hands up, he caresses my breasts, then slides the sleeves down my arms.

  I wanted to scream. I needed him inside me, now. I can see that he is enjoying himself, but the anticipation is sure to make me orgasm even faster so I stay silent. He finally moves the zipper all the way down my leg and slides the remaining fabric off me and tosses it on the ground. Kneeling on the floor, he moves my legs apart and gives me one last look before his eyes disappear.

  I feel his lips hug my clitoris, and he begins to massage me with his tongue, circling and sucking the pleasure right out of me. I feel his fingers move up my leg and then I feel them inside me. My eyes roll back, and I’m in heaven. My body quivers and I can feel my orgasm about to erupt.

  I let out a scream, but he doesn’t stop. It just makes him go faster. My whole body is about to explode, and I can’t do a thing about it. Faster and harder, he rotates his fingers in me. With his tongue against my skin, it feels so, so good. My body starts to tingle, and I’m about to explode again when I feel him enter me, sending me into an abyss of pleasure.

  “Apology accepted.”

  I THINK I MIGHT BE falling in love with that man. After his mind-blowing apology, we spent the rest of the night talking. We talked about the places we wanted to visit and the things we wanted to do someday, maybe even together. I tried to play a little footsie while we talked, and I found that his feet are extremely ticklish. Overall, I would say it was a great surprise second date. The only weird part was that he seemed to zone out on me a few times like he did on the beach. I asked him if there was anything wrong, but he brushed it off like nothing happened and that everything was fine.

  I tried my best to ignore it, but it was just odd. But then, I think to myself, any man who can give me back-to-back orgasms is well worth my time and effort, no matter what weird quirks he has or how often we get to see each other. I mean, that man is a god in the bedroom. How is he still single? He is twenty seven years old, and he hasn’t been taken off the market yet. How is this even possible? Well, for now I don’t really care; all I care about is that he keeps giving me mind-altering sex. At least until I figure out what is wrong with him.

  As the clock
turned to midnight, I cuddled up to him and asked him to spend the night. He was putty in my hands, I could see it. He couldn’t say no. He nods his head, and then picks me up and carries me over to the bed. As I fall asleep in his arms, I feel even more strongly that he is something special. For all I knew, he could be the one.

  I wake up the next morning still in Bash’s arms. He smells so good, I could just eat him for breakfast. I slowly open my eyes and look toward him. He is wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

  “Good morning,” I blurt.

  “Ah, you’re awake. Good morning,” he says with a smile.

  “Have you been awake long?” I ask.

  “No, not that long. I was just enjoying having you in my arms,” he says, and then gives me a sweet morning kiss.

  “Well, I can make us eggs and toast if you’re hungry for some breakfast,” I say as I shift to get out of the bed, ready to start the day.

  “No thanks, I really should get going. I have some work to do around the motel, and my Dad will be pissed if I don’t get it done by this afternoon.” He gets out of bed and starts to get dressed.

  “Oh, well that sucks,” I tell him while giving him my best pouty face.

  Bash moves the sheet over and takes a seat next to me. He gives me another kiss and tells me how much fun he had last night, and that he hopes we can do it again soon. This time, I’m putty in his arms and just nod my head, and before I know it, he is out the door.

  I snap back to reality when I hear the door shut. Wait a second. Do this again soon. Let me think about this. First date: hot flirting and then sex. Second date, almost two weeks later: more hot sex. Fuck. I’m his goddamn booty call. I have to do something about this. I do not just want to be his booty call girl. I want to be his girlfriend.

  I wrap the sheet around me and run for my phone. I pull up my text message app and start a group chat with Sadie and Megan.

  Sasha: I need you guys ASAP

  Megan: I’m out with Matt right now shopping for jeans, I will hurry him up so he can drop me off.

  Sasha: Bring Matt with and Sadie you can bring Will. I may need a man’s perspective here.

  Megan: Oh shit this is serious, fuck the jeans we are on our way.

  Sadie: On our way!!!

  You know you have awesome friends when they automatically drop everything when you ask for help ASAP. I jump up from the bed and throw on some clothes and a little bit of makeup, brush my hair, and I’m ready. Normally I wouldn’t care what I looked like, except with Matt and Will coming over, I felt like I had to do a little something with myself, since they have never seen me with my just been fucked last night morning hair before.

  In no time flat they are all at my apartment, wondering what could possibly be so urgent. I give them the short, PG-rated version of last night’s events, and then look at the guys.

  “Am I his booty call?” I ask, completely serious.

  Matt and Will start to laugh and respond in unison. “Hell yeah, you are his booty call.”

  “No guy is gonna come in the door with you looking like a hot mess on the spontaneous second date unless he is looking to wet his knob,” Will continues.

  “Wait! He stayed all night and they talked. Doesn’t that count for something?” Sadie rebuts, coming to my defense.

  “Um yeah, it adds that Sasha is great in bed, and he wants to secure his next hook up,” Matt explains.

  I shake my head as the reality of the situation sets it. I’m a booty call. That’s what’s wrong with him. He is a player, though he really didn’t seem like the type.

  “Fuck!”

  “So is there anything Sasha can do to change things? She really likes him. How does she move up from booty call to girlfriend?” Megan asks.

  “Um well, the obvious choice would be to stop boinking long enough for him to realize you’re more than just a piece of hot ass,” Matt blurts.

  “Damn it! Ok fine, then I have to get him out on real date.”

  I suddenly remember that on Thursday nights, the local park runs a cornhole tournament. For those that have no idea what cornhole is, it’s a game that involves tossing beanbags at a slanted piece of wood with a hole in it. The object is to get the beanbag on the wood or in the hole in order to get the most points. I am pretty good at it, but have been so busy lately that I haven’t been down there in a while.

  “Ok, I got it. Clear your schedules, we are playing cornhole on Thursday!” I shout at the group.

  I grab my phone and text Bash.

  Sasha: hey I just found out my partner for the cornhole tournament has to back out. Can you fill in for him?

  Bash: if he won’t mind :o)

  Sasha: oh he won’t mind at all. See you Thursday. 6:30 at Myrick Park.

  Bash: Can’t wait

  THURSDAY CAN’T GET HERE FAST enough, until it hits me. I’m scheduled to work from four until close. Fuck a duck! Dustin. I will call Dustin; he will do just about anything for me when I ask, so he should have no problem covering my shift. I just can’t tell him it’s because I have a date.

  I pick up the phone to call him and pause for a second. Am I really going to take advantage of Dustin’s infatuation for me, just so I can get another guy to like me for me, and not just my nether regions? That seems a bit mean. Oh, who am I kidding? I really want this, and Dustin will understand one day when he finds the right girl.

  I pull up his contact number in my phone and hit call. The phone rings a few times and I start to second-guess myself again, but before I can hang up, it’s too late.

  “Hey Sasha, what’s up?”

  “Hi Dustin, not too much. I was just calling to see if you could cover my shift Thursday night.” I ask quickly, not wanting to drag this out.

  “Is everything ok?” he asks in a concerned voice.

  “Oh yeah, everything is fine. Megan’s boyfriend had to cancel on her for the cornhole tournament, and she needs a new partner,” I lie.

  “Oh sure, I can cover for you. Not a problem.”

  “Thank you so much, she will be so grateful. She has been looking forward to this for a few weeks and Matt sprained his wrist and can’t play.” Why do I keep lying? This is how people get caught.

  “That sucks, I hope it isn’t too bad. I have a wrist splint if he needs to borrow it,” he offers.

  “Oh no, that’s ok I’m sure he will be fine in a few days. He just didn’t want to risk reinjuring it at the tournament...” More lies, Ugh. “Well, I should get going. I have some things I have to get done before work today.”

  I end the call as quickly as I can, and feel horrible the moment it’s over. I will have to make it up to him somehow; just not by going out on date number three.

  As I jump into the shower, I can’t stop thinking about Bash. I start to wonder if this will work. Can he really see me as something other than a piece of ass? What if I’m not his only piece of ass? I thought he might’ve had a girlfriend already, but what if it’s worse? What if he has several booty call chicks? Oh for fuck’s sake, what if that is the reason he couldn’t see me for so long? He has a damn rotation he had to work me into.

  As I get out of the shower, I just want to climb back in and keep washing. Not knowing what Bash really has going on is making me feel really dirty. I finally dry off and realize I’m overreacting, and that I have no proof of any of this. I mean, he does seem like a really good guy. He did save us from George. If he was a total pig, I’m sure he would have used that opportunity to peruse me and not wait for fate to bring us to the same beach party.

  I finally start to feel better, and that I may have made the whole rotation idea up in my head, especially after I call Megan. I confide in her about my crazy ides about Bash. She reminds me that this is La Crosse, not New York or Los Angeles where that shit really happens. La Crosse is just too small of a world to try and run that kind of game. Between Facebook and everyone knowing someone who knows someone, your dirty little secret would get exposed pretty quickly. I agree with her, and then call Sa
die to make sure that Megan is not feeding me a line of bullshit about what she thinks I want to hear. Sadie agrees that I am bat shit crazy, and that I seem to be looking for is Ex-boyfriend nickname before I really even have any idea about what is going on with him.

  After a very interesting morning, I’m finally ready for work, and am happy to have the distraction. I mean, if I had to sit in my apartment all day, I would probably go insane thinking about Bash. I fluff my boobs one more time and grab my keys before I head out the door.

  As I pull into the parking lot, I’m relieved to see so many cars. For one, that means good tips, and two, time should fly by. When it’s busy on a late Saturday afternoon, then Saturday night tends to be insane.

  I walk in the front door I scan the bar to see what kind of crowd it will be tonight. As I look in the back corner, I see someone familiar. I can’t really place him, but I know I have seen him before.

  Oh shit. He’s one of Bash’s friends.

  WHY? WHY CAN’T I HAVE just a normal night at work? Now I have to worry about Bash’s friend recognizing me, and then going to Bash and reporting back. Wait, do guys do that? I have no idea. I think they do, but either way, I have worry about the possibility of it. Fuck. Ain’t nobody got time for this shit!

  Hold the phone. This could actually work out for me. If he recognizes me and I give him the full-on sweet girl persona, then he will go back and tell Bash, and maybe then Bash will realize that he can’t use a sweet girl like me as a fuck buddy. Yeah, that could work.

  I run to the back room to punch in and drop off my purse. Next stop, the bathroom; I must reel in the girls, even if my tips suffer tonight for it. I look at myself in the mirror and smile a few times to find just the right one. Then I look at myself and realize that I have gone totally bat shit crazy for this guy. What the fuck am I thinking? This is not me. I don’t play fucking games with guys. They either like me or they don’t; I’ve never changed myself just to make some guy like me. If I end up just being a fuck buddy to him, then I guess so be it.