The little “. . .” bubble appeared at the bottom of the screen. Then disappeared. Then reappeared and stayed there for a while. The reply that buzzed into her cell made her understand why it took a while. He’d sent a dissertation.
Well, there was this girl in the bar. Hannah. Okay, I’m not the type of person to go to bars usually, but I’m new in town and jet-lagged and I figured it was better than just staying in my condo staring at the empty walls since only half of my furniture arrived and none of that arrived furniture included my TV. Also, I have no internet because they’re coming tomorrow.
There was a pause here where she assumed he was waiting for her to respond and so she did.
Tell me more.
More bubbles appearing and disappearing until her cell vibrated.
So I went out looking for a diner or coffee shop or whatever, but the only place that was open was a bar—
She snorted. Sure, it was.
I had a couple of drinks—
Another snort. A couple, right.
Next thing I know, Hannah came over and we spent a few hours eating, drinking, and talking but then she had to go. Before she left, though, she wrote her number on my hand—
How very high school.
—and told me to text her something she could use to relax her later—and here, she patted my crotch—
Wow.
I mean, who does that? She could have just put the number in my phone. Anyway, by the time my drunk ass got over the feel of her hand on my cock and I’d really processed what she’d done, she was gone, and I was paying a big bill.
She pressed her lips together.
You seem awfully sober now.
A beat then,
Being the type of asshole to send an unsolicited dick pic will do that to a man.
She snorted.
I’m not sure that’s true.
Well, true or not, I obviously got played.
Lori considered all that then sent,
Pictures, or it isn’t true.
There was a long silence before she got a reply.
Um, isn’t that what got us into this problem in the first place?
She grinned.
I meant of the number this Hannah wrote on your hand.
Oh.
A few seconds later, her cell buzzed, and another pic appeared on her screen. This one was also naked, but because it was a picture of a naked palm, it was less exciting. Though those thick fingers, yo. And . . . she was an idiot, but it was now after three in the morning, she was texting a stranger, and so she was allowed to be a bit delirious. Shaking her head, she focused on the photo.
Sure enough, there was a scrawling phone number on his skin.