Chloe saw her screen before she could close the tab. “Oooh,” she teased. “Who’s the mystery man?” Her eagle eyes already caught his name, and in a flash his profile was up on her screen.
“I dunno,” she said, looking at his profile on her screen now.
“He cute!” she exclaimed. “Where’d you meet him where’s he from what’s going on have you fucked?”
“What’s happening?” said Matt, popping his head in between computers from where he sat on the other side of the desk.
“New boo alert,” said Chloe. “I’m slacking you his name.”
“Let’s not get too excited,” she said, with a shock that she felt she, herself, was getting too excited.
“Is he from that party on Saturday?” Matt asked.
“Yeah. We ended up talking for a long time. He’s chill.”
“And he’s an artiste,” said Matt, gleaning as much from his bio. “I didn’t think you’d go for the avant garde type.”
“It’s the necklaces, isn’t it?” said Alyssa, chuckling to herself.
“Wait, I love this: marketing babe getting it on with hot emerging artist,” said Chloe, her eyes starry, her hands spread wide. “This is it couple territory.”
“When you gonna see him again?” asked Matt, a lollipop stick protruding from the corner of his lips, as always.
“I don’t know. Like, what if he’s a serial killer? Serial killers can’t have good socials like this, though, right?”
“Ted Bundy was pretty popular,” mused Chloe.
“Can you stop summoning dear Ted every time one of us gets a new flame?” Matt scolded her. He turned to Alyssa. “You should go for it. Get as much dick as you can before EOW.”
Alyssa chuckled. EOW: end of world, a play on EOB they’d come up with. “Did you hear about those two hurricanes in the Philippines? Cat sevens. They’re saying this summer’s gonna be even worse!”
“And our Milan office is still closed because of the deep freeze. Apparently people are still out of power and are like freezing to death in their sleep.”
“Y’all are right. Y’all are wise,” said Alyssa, feeling strangely settled on the matter. After all, if she was being honest with herself, there was no way she wasn’t going to call, EOW or not. “More dick, not less.”
The only question remaining was how she was going to lie to her friends about what the date consisted of.
His phone rang with an unknown number. Without hesitation, he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hi. I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but this is Alyssa. From the party?”
He leaned back into his couch, making himself comfortable. He wanted to savor this. He let her hang in the silence for a long moment, her discomfort almost palpable. “I’m so glad you called.”
He loved hearing her little sigh of relief. “Well, you gave me your card, so I’m calling you. Here we are.”
He loved her nervousness. “Here we are,” he agreed.
He knew she was waiting — probably praying — for him to say something next. To take charge, perhaps. He let the silence draw out, longer and longer.
“Anyway I was just calling to say hello but maybe I should get going because–”
“You’re calling about the modelling gig, right?” he interrupted. “I’d love to have you over if so. Like this weekend, maybe? Are you free Saturday? Around 6?”
Another pause. “I am. Yeah, that works.”
“Great. Is this your number? I can text you the address.”
“Yes. Okay. But um, I’m just wondering… what’s involved, exactly? Like, do I need to be naked?”
He smiled into the phone. “Only a part of you.”
He let another silence lapse, during which he hoped she was contemplating which part would be naked. “I just have one small request. Please shave yourself completely, right before you come over. Okay?”
“No problem,” she said, sounding slightly strangled.
“I’ll send you the address,” he said again. “No pressure though. I get that this is all a bit unconventional.”
“Yeah,” she said, laughing weakly. “It sure is.”
“Maybe see you on Saturday, then,” he said, and hung up the phone.
He knew this was going to be a good one.
Six o’clock, the appointed hour. She and her freshly-shaved pussy stood outside of his apartment, the building’s main entrance already unlocked. It was all wa more ramshackle than she imagined. Unfinished floors, halls painted puke green, chips and scuff marks abounding. She didn’t love the neighborhood either, still very much pre up-and-coming, industrial. Tres dystopian.
These details distracted her from the bigger issue at hand. She almost couldn’t believe she was really here. But then again, it did make a lot of sense.
She was kinky.
She’d been working from home the night she called, and had closed a window accidentally. Navigating into the history function to bring it back up, she was confronted with her other recent page visits. There was a lot of porn. And not just any porn. She had specific tastes. Tastes she would never admit to her friends, never admitted to even her lovers, who were usually attractive men with big egos who didn’t care to probe her depths. None of them could make her come–she did that on her own, thanks very much. She appeared vanilla, embraced vanilla, except when she was all alone.
That is, until lately. When she’d been reminded of how short life can actually be. Yolo. EOW.