“I’m totally a dead ringer his mom, even physically. I thought I was just nurturing and being a good girlfriend, but he was just looking for a replacement for his mom whom he could also have sex with.” I hung my head in my hands. “I feel gross, now.”
She reached out and awkwardly patted me on the top of the head. “There, there. There, there.”
I blinked up at her. “Is that your version of comforting me?”
She shrugged. “Nurturing, I am not.” She grinned lasciviously. “I’ve got one surefire way of helping someone feel better, and I really don’t think you want that.”
I shuddered. “Yeah, nope.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “I mean, you could probably learn a lesson, here, though. Next time you’re wondering if a guy is interested in you or your nurturing qualities, just do what I do: whenever you feel like he’s down in the dumps and you want to do something nice for him to make him feel better, just blow him. Don’t make him a fuckin’ sandwich, don’t do his goddamn laundry, don’t clean up after him, just suck him off. He’ll feel better, and that sure as shit ain’t nurturing. Save that shit for when you’re really a momma.”
I cackled, stifling laughter with my hands, and then spat laughter through my fingers. “Alexandra!”
“What, Charlotte?”
“You can’t just dick-suck your way through relationships.” I said this not quitesotto voce, but nearly.
“If I’m dick-sucking my way through it, it ain’t a relationship, babe. That’s the real secret.”
“Secret?”
“To not getting attached. Keep it physical. Focus on the peen and the poon, and your heart stays your own.”
I frowned at her. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Worked for me so far?”
“Has it, though?”
And just like that, she was serious again. “Screw you, Charlie.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. I was in a relationship I thought was serious, that meant something, but it wasn’t, and it didn’t. I’m no better off than you are.”
“We are not in the same place, Char. Not even remotely.”
“Why?” I asked.
She shrugged, staring at the table. “Because I’ve only told you part of the story.”
“Ohhh my.”
She nodded. “Yeah. And not even the worst part.”
“You got caught, didn’t you?”
She yanked the bill tray toward herself, scribbled a zero on the tip line and totaled it, tossed a generous cash tip onto the tray, and slid it back to me to sign.
She adopted a smooth, low, sultry, announcer-type voice. “Next time, in the ongoing saga of Lexie’s Fucked-Up Life…find out if the wife and children caught herin flagrante delictowith the hunky professor, or will she get away with her sinful rendezvous? Also in our next episode we answer the question, is anal really worth it?”
I snorted. “Lex, jeepers criminy.”
She sputtered a disbelieving laugh. “What…thehell…did you just say?”
“Jeepers criminy. I don’t like taking the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Didn’t know you were religious, Charlie.”
“I’m not, really, but it doesn’t seem logical to piss off a potential deity. Plus, it’s just crass and unnecessary.”
