Page 7 of David's Chase

My voice echoes in the room.

“Stupid thoughts,” I grump.

‘Excuse me. I’m your inner voice. And I have rights.’

‘You have the right to remain silent, yet you don’t use that right very often.’

With that, I flip the bird to my imaginary friend in my head.

“Enough of you…” I mutter, shifting my focus to what I was pondering before.

The thought that he might be one of those Johns makes me forget about being stranded in a motel room with his arousing smell between my legs, despite the showering and scrubbing my skin and dozing off for a few hours.

My heart tells me he is not.

He is not that kind of man, but like them, he has a reason for doing it besides wanting to turn me on.

He has smoothly talked me into doing it with him––getting paid for sex––but I’m no fool.

There is a reason he is how he is, and I’ve been tasked––or rather self-appointed myself––to find that reason.

A glinting piece of metal distracts me for a moment, and my focus shifts back to the nightstand where his car keys sit.

Okay.

The car keys are here, and the vehicleis still outside, so he's still here.

The thought suddenly makes me aware that something other than my deep sleep and ruminative thoughts must’ve happened.

I grab my phone to call him. I’d rather do that than march outside dressed like this.

A warm feeling curls up in my chest.

Maybe he waited for me to wake up so he could take me home.

Do I really believe that?

No, not really.

He is the kind of man who values his time. He won’t just sit idling by, waiting for me to get my beauty sleep.

My thumb slides across, waking my phone when I notice a missed message.

David: I’ll see you next week.

Oh… That’s it?

That’s all he’s got?

I need to sit for a moment.

Dumbfounded, I stare blankly at my phone, going back in time and trying to remember our last moments.

Were they good?

Bad?

Was he absent?

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