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We haven't had that talk on my end.
What?
I swear. We haven’t had any sort of discussions…oh, wait, we had that one time.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and we had both gone out to some party the night before. It was a cast party I think for someone who was leaving the set of Hamilton and we had both had too much to drink.
We woke up the next morning slightly hung over. After eating a greasy breakfast over at the Red Eye Diner, Ethan looked over to me.
“You get that hang over horniness, babe?” Ethan asked, his hand on the small of my back as we crossed the street.
How did he know? All I wanted that morning after food and water was to get his giant cock inside of me to scratch an itch. But I was too much of a lady to say anything. Instead, I looked over at him once we crossed the street.
“Let’s wait till we get upstairs and I’ll show you,” I told him. He smirked at me.
He wasn’t smirking ten minutes later as his hands were grabbing my tits and squeezing my ass as I desperately shucked myself over and over on his thick, hard cock and came. Then, he turned me over on all fours and fucked me doggie until I had another orgasm. He fucked me on the sofa, then moved to the balcony where he bent me over the railing and drilled me, and then brought me inside and fucked me missionary where he came all over my tits. And he came in gallons. It was intense.
I scooped it all up with my fingers. Yummy.
Okay, yeah you’re done listening to my crazy sex life with my hot handsome stud, but this is the important part.
As we lay naked on the sofa together, Ethan turned to me.
“You have enough clothes for next week?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “I thought you like it when I’m naked,” I replied, doing my smart ass thing that I use on him sometimes.
“Yeah, but you know, to go to work and shit,” he replied.
“I’m usually naked at work, filming scenes for I.E.,” I told him.
“Fuck, if you need to go to your place and get your shit, I’ll help,” he said, getting annoyed at me.
I turned over to him. I knew what he was going for. But I didn’t want to have that conversation.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked him with a pout.
I knew it would fuck with his head.
I know, why did I spoil the chance?
Because I was scared, I think.
I don’t know, hun. I’m fucked up in the head. After Robert. After running away.
Ethan just dropped the subject and went back to watching television. Which at the time was fine by me.
Now I’m wishing I had told him that it might have been easier to just move in—that this going back to my apartment over and over to get things was time consuming. Because an hour after our conversation, that’s exactly what I had to do. Trek all the way uptown and get my stuff.
But, no! Don’t you dare tell him that.
Seven.
That’s how many times I’ve had to go visit Simon. Go give him progress reports on the I.E.
Thank God Simon has no way of knowing that I’ve actually tried it on. That I’ve had sex with Ethan on the I.E. Thank God he doesn't know just how utterly realistic and life-changing that device is—how much it’s going to revolutionize pornography as we know it.
But still, he has questions. He has threats.
