Page 8 of Like a Boss

“Why?” I’m almost too afraid to ask.

He gently rubs over my ass, giving it an unexpected light spank. “Because, Bluebird, I want to see if you taste as sweet as you feel.”

My entire body hurts, but it hurtsso good.

I sit up in the king-size bed, surprised that I’m actuallyinbed because the last thing I remember, I was on the sofa, yanking on Tiger’s mane while he managed to make me forget my own name. Looking down, I see that I’m naked. I don’t remember undressing either. Tiger must have put me to bed because I’m quite certain I passed out after orgasm number four.

“Um, hello?” I call out, shamefully realizing I don’t even know Tiger’s name.

I’m greeted with silence.

Turning to look at the clock on the bedside table, I see a folded note leaning against a tall glass of juice. I reach for both. Taking a sip, I open the letter, hoping it’ll reveal just who my stranger is.

Thank you for a most interesting evening, Bluebird.

That’s it?

I turn the note over, just in case there’s more. There’s not.

So, this is what a one-night stand feels like. As I look around the empty room, a room that will have to be sterilized and baptized, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Do women really enjoy being treated like a life-size, blow-up doll?

However, I decide to ignore the sensible Baylee because she’s being a Debbie Downer.

Finishing my juice, I wrap the sheet around me and go in search of my clothes. My legs ache the moment I stand, but the pain is a delicious reminder of last night’s vigorous activities. I raise an interested eyebrow when I see a random white bag sitting on a velvet settee.

Waddling over, I open it up to see a pair of Chucks, a pair of jeans, a fitted knitted sweater, and a gorgeous blue silk underwear set. The color reminds me of my unusual nickname, and I can’t help but wonder why Bluebird. Maybe if I stopped being a McSlutty Slut for five seconds, I could have asked him.But as I look around the room, I know that’ll never happen because he’s gone.

I sigh deeply as I suddenly have the one-night stand blues.

Not that she’ll help, as I know she’ll congratulate me and ask for the gory details, but I need to speak to Hannah. And besides, I did leave without telling her I was going upstairs with a complete stranger.

My purse is sitting on the dresser. I hunt through it and find my phone. I see I have an abundant amount of messages, missed calls and voice mails—they’re all from Hannah.

I quickly call her, awaiting a lecture from hell.

“Where have you been?”

I cringe. “Hi, Han.”

“Don’t ‘hi Han’ me! I was seconds away from calling the police. You’ve been gone all night. Start talking.”

“Well…” I start but pause, as I don’t know what the proper lead in is for a conversation such as this one. But I don’t need one.

“Oh… my… god,” she exclaims, drawing out each word. “You totally got laid last night!”

“Well…” I repeat, dragging my big toe along the soft carpet.

“I want to know every single detail.”

I chuckle. How did I know our conversation would lead this way? “I can’t right now.”

“You’re still there?” she admonishes.

“Yes,” I squeak, looking around the room.

“Leave right now!” she commands. “A one-night stand is just that. It’s a one-time-only deal. You hang around and he’s going to think you’re scribbling his name in love hearts all over the room.”

“Well, that’s not going to be a problem because I don’t even know what his name is,” I foolishly bite back.

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