Play Maker(2)

Not a lot of people understood that Mikey needed stability and routine. That he wasn’t your average twenty-year old. My brother had a form of Down syndrome, which manifested in a lot of obsessive behaviors, most of which centered around his favorite show, Doctor Who. There weren’t a lot of people who could tolerate his single-minded focus on the Doctor and his companions. So there weren’t a lot of people that I allowed to participate in that part of my life.

My brother was precious to me. My best friend, my biggest cheerleader. And he came first. Always and forever. I had yet to find a guy who understood that. A guy who could put his own needs aside to support me once in awhile. So I said goodbye to being a girlfriend and embraced sluthood fully. And never looked back.

But I was a responsible slut. One who had strict rules for one night stands. Use protection, obviously. I was on the pill and always had condoms in my purse. Never go down on a guy unless he went down on me first. You could tell a lot about a guy by his expectations of foreplay. The guys who weren’t interested in my orgasm were ones that didn’t get the pleasure of experiencing theirs with me. I didn’t do selfish sex. And last, but not least, I never went to their house and never, ever stayed the night, no matter where we were. I was very much a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am and damn proud of it. It was a policy that worked out well, though I still joked with my fellow slut, Maya, that we should get a commission from the hotel for how much extra business we gave them.

For the most part, there was nothing better than a round of good sex to end your evening, but tonight just wasn’t the night. I caught Maya’s gaze as she was taking orders at the other end of the bar. With one single raised eyebrow, I could tell she was feeling as bored as I was, though she angled her head towards a guy in the corner indicating that she definitely wasn’t going to end her night bored. She wasn’t as strict as I was with her one night stands, when she made them book a room at the hotel it was because she wanted to stay at a five star hotel and order something off the room service menu.

“Lawyer?” I asked when she came back to my side of the bar. The guy was wearing an expensive black suit, probably handmade, maybe Italian. That meant money. In Los Angeles that could mean lots of things, but despite the obvious quality, it was still a pretty simple, serviceable suit, which usually was reserved for attorneys.

“Good guess,” she leaned down to grab a bottle of seltzer. “Agent.”

I let out a whistle. “Suite or penthouse?”

“Suite,” she pulled back the collar of her shirt to show me the room key tucked into her bra strap. “He’s only a junior agent. But I’m still ordering the waffles.”

“You’re obsessed with those waffles,” I poked her side playfully. “How many times have you had them this month?”

She gave me a naughty smile. “Four.”

“Damn girl,” I whistled, giving her a once over, though I knew I’d never see any evidence of those waffles on her rail thin body. Though she was blessed with a supermodel’s metabolism, Maya was also kind of obsessed with fitness and ran marathons like they were going out of business. She was always trying to get me to join, but the only kind of exercise I was interested in was the kind that ended with an orgasm.

“You don’t even know, Nicole,” Maya licked her lips. “I don’t think there’s anything better in life than great sex followed by these waffles. They are smothered in dulce de leche, topped with vanilla ice cream.”

“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it,” I interrupted, not interested in watching her get orgasmic over these waffles. Again. Between the waffles and her juice, she was obsessed. Besides, getting a guy to order room service was definitely not my thing. I didn’t have time to linger after sex and I didn’t want any of the guys I slept with to get the wrong idea. I couldn’t risk them getting attached and I’d had too many close calls lately – men were so sensitive these days.

I glanced back at Mr. Gin-and-Tonic, who was still casting fervent glances in my direction. And not “ooooh baby, the things I would do to you” kind of glances. The “you seem like a nice girl, maybe my mom would like you” kind of glances. Yeah, he was totally a long-term kind of guy and I was not that kind of girl. At all. Not anymore.

“What about you?” Maya glanced around the bar, which was only about one third full. Slim pickings and she had definitely snagged the best option. Mr. Junior Agent was watching her with a gleam in his eye. A very specific kind of gleam. One that promised sex. And waffles. And never calling again. “Anyone catch your eye?”

“Not tonight.” I turned my back on Mr. Gin-and-Tonic. Definitely relationship material. Definitely not for me.

“Really?” Maya frowned. “No one?”

“They all scream commitment,” I told her. “I’m on a bad luck streak,” I crossed my arms. “The last two guys practically begged me for my number afterwards.”

She grimaced. “Ugh. Let’s hope my agent doesn’t want to talk about his feelings.”

“What is with guys these days?” I asked. “It seems like half of them think that when I say ‘one night stand’ I really mean ‘but secretly, I want to be your girlfriend’.”

“And they accuse our gender of being the clingy one.” Maya rolled her eyes. “Remember when that guy kept sending flowers to the bar?”