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Where the hell is my underwear? I circled the pitch-black living room, trying to remember where I had tossed them. There were a lot of moving body parts earlier as Jessica—or was it Jennifer?—and I stumbled through her Airbnb and to the bedroom. I wasn’t thinking with the right head at the time.
Now I needed to get out of here before she woke up and wanted to talk or cuddle or something else equally horrifying. I wasn’t anything more than a one-night stand, and I made sure to inform every woman I was with, but sometimes… Oh sometimes they thought sex with them would magically change me. And I become the asshole.
I stared at the front door, wishing I could head into the darkness, sacrifice my underwear for the greater good, but I didn’t even have my damn car with me. If I did, I would have free balled it and been halfway home. But no, my dumbass left my means of transportation at my family’s winery.
We’d stumbled in and tripped to the left, so I peered over to that corner. It was too fucking dark, but I wouldn’t risk turning a light on. Light on my feet, I moved closer. Pain radiated up my toe and shot right through my leg.
“Son of—” I bit the words off and silently screamed in my head. Who the hell put a table there? I inhaled, letting the breath settle through me, trying to ignore the pulsating ache.
A ruffling noise broke through the silence, and I whipped around, careful not to plow into the stupid table again. The sound turned to menacing growls. Chills prickled along my neck, and my heart rate picked up a notch.
Definitely didn’t sound like a bear. Not that I expected a bear to be chilling in this Airbnb, but in this area, I couldn’t count it out.
The growls grew, the clack of sharp claws on the hardwood echoed through the dark space.
Fuck this.
I turned my cellphone flashlight on, braced myself to run, and shown the light toward the noise.
Two gleaming eyes glanced at me with a tilted head. You have got to be kidding me.
I hurried over to the Pomeranian that had a death hold on my underwear. With one hand held out, I lowered to his level. “Hey bud,” I said as softly as possible. “Those are mine. Can I have them back?” I took hold of the material and tugged, but this damn dog had the jaw power of a crocodile.
“Let go,” I whispered.
His top lip pulled back, baring his teeth, my poor boxer briefs pinched between his canines. A growl rumbled in his throat, and I could sense a bark.
My hands shot up. “No, no. Don’t do that.”
A stuffed crocodile—go figure—sat to his left. I scooped up the toy and dangled it in front of the fluffy ball of inconvenience. “Wouldn’t you rather have this?” I asked, as if the damn dog could respond. “Come on. Let’s switch.”
I tugged on my underwear and held the crocodile like a peace offering, but Mr. Pomeranian clearly didn’t believe in peace. He was a dictator, and my underwear was the flag he honored and protected.
In one last sad attempt, I waved the crocodile and fell back on my bare ass. The dictator loosened his grip on my underwear and eyed the stuffed animal. Maybe it was pity, or maybe his short puppy attention span kicked in.
Either way, I was back in business. His snout poked up, my underwear dangling from a single tooth. I swiped, throwing the crocodile at his face.
A loud, ear-piercing bark erupted from the bastard's little body, and I jumped up, underwear, jeans, and shoes in hand. A light turned on upstairs, and I bolted out the front door and straight for the tree line.
Fuck, it got cold.
Night surrounded me as I leaned against a tree and pulled the rest of my clothes on. The damn dog left bite holes. Luckily, I had plenty more. And in a few months, Mom would gift me with even more underwear like she did every year since my brothers and I were kids. I could have easily left them behind, but it’s better to leave no traces. That gave the woman an invitation to find me. I didn’t want to be found. I was a stranger passing in the night who they happened to snag, and their reward was the best orgasm of their life.
I slipped into my shoes and closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I wondered if sex was worth all this trouble. Never the same woman twice, always escaping before the sun rose, never experiencing a connection other than pure animalistic pleasure.
Damn right it was.
It was nearing five am, and I should have been out of there hours ago, but I foolishly fell asleep. I blamed the long hours behind the tasting room bar and the extra glass of whiskey I had at Don’s Bistro. I pushed off the tree and headed for the road.
Living in a small rural town, there weren’t a lot of streetlights. Hell, there weren’t any. But luckily for me, I could navigate these roads blindfolded and drunk, and I had many times. Wish I could say it was sex games gone wrong. At least that would be exciting, but really, it was just the product of having two older brothers who liked to fuck with me. They called it survival skills. I called bullshit. I’d never admit now that it definitely came in handy.
A familiar rhythmic hum sounded in the distance. I shook my head and prepared myself. The noise grew louder until it was beside me.
“Hey lover boy, need a lift?” I glanced up the tractor at Albert, the town grump and someone I called a friend. He wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with, but he had been a friend of my grandpa’s, so I knew he couldn’t be all that bad, and I’d been right.
“My feet move faster than that tractor,” I joked.
“Fine.”
