I agree to meet Kate and Jose in a little bar down the street from our apartment to celebrate the end of the school year. As Jose gets ready to order a second pitcher of margaritas, and I find myself weaving a little, unaccustomed as I am to drinking large volumes of Mexican libations.
Or maybe it was the crackpipe I smoked earlier.
On the way to the john, I have an idea. I pick up my cellphone and dial the last number. It's Christian Gray's number, his private number, the one he scribbled on his business card.
"Grey."
"Hello, Christian, this is Ana. I'm sitting in a bar here, thinking about your snake trouser and wondered if you'd like to show it to me once and for all. You've got a lot of competition, here. Jose is just about to jump my bones so if you want to see me, just follow the signal."
With that, I hang up, just before I lose my cookies.
Nice.
I wipe the drool off my face and comb my dampened hair, then re-enter the bar. There he is, waiting outside the door, giving me the evil eye.
"Jesus," Christian says with a look of disgust. "You look like shit. And you stink of regurgitated tequila and lime."
"Well," I sniff. "You are a first class asshole. But I'm drunk and kinda horny and you look like a better bet than what I see around here. So let's get outta here. What say, we make a little whoopie?"
Christian turns his back to me and shakes his head.
"I. Hate. Drunk. Women."
"Yeah, well, this one is a sure thing. Blowjob?"
His face brightens.
"You betcha, honeypie. But only if you take your teeth out."
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