Page 13 of Side Piece

He puts both hands on the steering wheel and sits up a little straighter. I feel doubt charge the air around us. I’m seated sideways in the seat facing him, watching. I wrap my arms around my middle. The absurdity of what we were planning might be too much. And for what really? Good sex.

“I don’t get to Philly a lot,” he says resolutely.

“I occasionally visit LA.”

He sighs. “Maybe this is just this.”

I sit back, letting his words fill the car. I’m not upset, simply sad to know deep down he’s right. “Maybe it is.” He pauses at my words too. We hold on to the silence as if it’s going to solve our issue. He rests his hand on my thigh.

He whips his head to me and then back to the road. “Whatever this is, I’ve never had anything like it. The conversation is as good as the sex. And that was some ridic good fucking. I can’t stop touching you. There’s something to your skin and touch that’s electric and addictive. Your chestnut hair will plague me, as well as your insanely creamy skin. And I’m captivated by your eyes that have this ring of brown around the intense blue. Is that a thing?”

“You’re saying nice things to me.” He’s saying things I write about.

“It’s easy.”

“Apparently, so am I.”

“Seriously. This is an evening, is it not? Caribbean blue will always flicker in my mind as a matching set—your lingerie and your fucking gorgeous eyes. And we didn’t have time to get to the really dirty stuff.” He glances over at me, and I’m just staring at his broad shoulders, his light stubble, and ruddy skin. True. We were so excited to fuck we did skip some other pleasurable things.

I continue his story, “Every time I steal a fry off someone’s plate, my stomach will flip, and my breath will snag a little at the thought of your hand.”

The elegant, rich timbre of his voice fills the car. It’s wrapping around me like the safety of a memory. “This night will be one of those that, when we’re old and married, and our children have left for their lives, and we have to get up to pee in the middle of the night, will cross our minds as a perfect night.”

I finish his thought, “And we’ll look at our spouse and be grateful they exist, but we’ll also be grateful this one time there was one perfect evening. Not a misstep or off moment. Open, raw, funny, honest, and hot as hell. And it’s all ours to devour again through time. Then I’ll probably google you to see if you’re dead.”

He smiles at my joke. “Or whatever Google is fifty years from now.”

The silence covers us again, and I’m rubbing my fingers lightly on the top of his hand that’s holding my other one.

I open up. “Unfamiliar territory for me too. I never thought you could have a good conversation, an incredibly handsome man, and great sex. In my history, if I got two of the three, it was a win.”

“I barely checked my phone, and that purple pen didn’t reappear until you needed it for your hair. Somehow you shut my brain off to everything except you.”

After a couple of minutes, I look at him. “You’re so fucking unexpected.”

We’re stopped at a red light. He slams the car in park and releases his seat belt coming as much into my seat as he can. “Then fuck it, if this is it, then let’s give our elderly selves something to feast on.” We make out and grope through three cycles of the lights, cars going around us honking loudly. He moves the car forward, handing me his phone.

“Text Mikey.”

I pull up his co-host, Mikey Day’s contact info on his phone, “Ok. Go.”

“Verbatim.”

I type as he speaks.

ALEX: I need you to do all the prep for Vermont. I’ll do your Kansas research and cover the Wisconsin thing. I need you to do this. No questions. Thx.

I push away any notion of being tired to close out our one perfect night, and the thought of him filling me so completely again. I need that gorgeous, long, slightly crooked cock as much as possible tonight.

MIKEY: Who dis?

I read the response, and he says, “Shit. Did you type exactly what I said?”

“I did!” I panic.

“Then tell him, ‘Dude, it’s me.’”

ALEX: Dude, it’s me.