I've got my left hand on the edge of the bed, my right on the small of his back. My lower body is in the altar boy giving "bless me Father for I have sinned" head position. And after six positions in about twenty minutes after a full day of work serving dead cattle to zombie tourists, I'm not just fucken (adj. form) tired, I am fucking (verb present tense) tired. Even though neither of us have come yet, I'm thinking of grabbing my briefs off the floor and waving them like a flag. Then Aaron starts bucking against me and ---- we're done.
"Shit." he says, stretching toward Mecca. "Are you as wiped as I am."
"Yea" is all I can really manage to say.
It's been four days since I hired Erin, three since I realized he was, in fact, Aaron. In those three days, he's spent a great deal of time in my bedroom.
"Do you have to work tomorrow?" he asks.
"Yea, but I'm the first one in, so I should get cut early."
"What time should I come over?"
"Are you leaving?" I ask. He has this habit of taking off directly after sex, which is okay by me. I don't mind being a booty call. I haven't had anything even remotely close to a boyfriend since Elvis, and even though it's been over a year, I'm not sure I'm ready. Add to this the fact that I still had an enormous crush on my best friend (and things like that ALWAYS work out for the best), and the employee with benefits package fits my needs perfectly.
"Do you want me to stay?" Here's where we might end up in tricky territory, if I ask him to stay I might be perceived as clingy, and if I ask him to leave...
I'm saved from making this decision by the sound of my front door opening. This is one of those out of the frying pan into the spinning knife blades dipped in acid moments. There are three people with the keys to my house: my mother, my best friend (Liam), and my sidekick/former coworker/kind of formerish crush Cute Straight Boy. So, who's behind door number one?