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Python:Wait—does this mean I can talk dirty again?

Me:No!

Me:And I’m already done because I’m not technically working right now. I don’t start for another month. I was taking pictures so I know how I need to decorate.

Python:Ah. That makes sense.

Me:Why aren’t you working?

Python:Oh, I am. I’m just multitasking.

Python:Also because my best friend is my boss and I don’t really HAVE to work.

Me:That doesn’t sound right.

Python:It’s not. It’s just what I tell myself to make me feel better about slacking off and not doing my job.

Python:Actually, I should go. I’ve spent too much time not working already.

Python:But, Monty?

Me:Yes?

Python:Can I text you again?

I don’t respond right away because I honestly don’t know what to say.

I want to say no because, though I don’t know him well, I can tell he’s all kinds of wrong for me. He’s crass and direct and out of my league.

But I want to say yes for all the same reasons because it’s the exact opposite of anything I’ve had before.

If I’m starting over fresh in a new state, might as well do it with a bang—maybe even a literal one.

Me:Yes.

Four

Robbie

Me:Can we go back to Saturday? I cannot stop thinking about you up on top of that counter. It’s a sickness at this point.

I am a disgusting,shameless man.

But a very prompt, disgusting shameless man.

I waited until 5:01 PM to text Monty again.

Sure, my opening line could use some work, but I’m not lying to her. I’ve been halfcocked and ready to go since Saturday night.

In fact, no amount of masturbation—and there has been plenty—has been able to touch this need inside me.

I reflect on what Zach said earlier, and perhaps he was right on the money: I didn’t finish things with Monty, and if there’s one thing I am in life, it’s a finisher.

The fact that she walked away without letting things come to a natural, satisfying end with us is killing me. I can’t handle it.

I want more. I need more.

Monty:5:01, right on the dot.

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