She Ain't The One. Carl Weber
jaw dropped, and her eyes bulged. I’d just crushed her ego flat as a pancake, and I could see shock, then hurt, and finally anger run across her face.
“You so full o’ shit, you know that? If I was so fucking bad, why’d you come over here tonight?”
“You don’t really wanna know the answer to that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Aw’ight, I’ll tell you.” I took a few steps toward the door, just in case she flipped. “The reason I came home with you last night is that I wanted to get laid and I didn’t have any better offers.”
“Oh, so you got what you wanted, and now you gonna front like it wasn’t good to you.”
“Got what I wanted? Don’t flatter yourself, Monica—I didn’t even come.”
“Fuck you! Get out of my house!” Out of nowhere the clock radio went flying across the room, and I had to duck to avoid it. “You trying to tell me you didn’t come.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And if you don’t believe me, check the condom.” I glanced over my shoulder as I walked out the door. She didn’t move, but I was sure once I was gone she was going to check the garbage can to see if I was lying or not.
In a way I felt sorry for her. I knew how I felt when I thought a woman didn’t come, but I couldn’t imagine what it was like for a woman to find out she couldn’t make a man come.
Fifteen minutes later my cell phone rang as I was rolling down Fourteenth Street, headed to the Beltway and my apartment in Alexandria, Virginia. I let my voice mail pick it up because Monica had already called twice and cussed my ass out. The thought that maybe I should have kept my mouth shut about her lack of skills and just avoid her until she got the hint came to mind. Oh well, it was too late now; besides, somebody had to burst that bubble of hers. The girl was absolutely clueless.
The phone rang again. This time I was going to let her know that I knew just as many four-letter words as she did. I pushed the TALK button and yelled, “Will you stop fucking calling!”
There was silence for a few seconds. Then I was surprised by a voice that wasn’t angry, didn’t scream, and, more importantly, wasn’t Monica’s. “If you didn’t want me to call, why you give me your number?”
“Huh? Who is this?”
“Obviously, it’s not the person you thought it was, Jay,” the woman on the other end teased.
I glanced at the caller ID on the phone, and it read TEXAS.
“Okay, you had your little fun; stop playing games. Who is this?”
“I guess you give your number to so many women, you can’t keep track of them. You don’t have a clue who this is, do you?”
Damn it. I hated when women played these games, especially when they were right. I didn’t know anyone with a 713 area code. Then again, she could’ve used a calling card. “Look, I’m not having the best of days, so whoever this is, can you please just tell me who you are?”
“It’s Ashlee, Jay.”
“Ashlee? Ashlee who?”
The woman sighed; I think I was starting to frustrate her. “Ashlee Anderson. We met last night at the club. You rescued me from the guy with the big head, remember?”
A lightbulb went off in my head. “Oh, that Ashlee. Well, why didn’t you say so?” A smile crept up on my face. “How you doing, Ashlee?”
I was glad she called, though, because I’d all but given up on her after she spotted me leaving the club last night with Monica. Ashlee was one classy-ass lady and, in all honesty, the only woman I’d met that deserved my time since I’d moved to D.C.
“I’m doing all right, but I’m a little bored. I was wondering if you could tell me some of the fun things to do in D.C.”
“I can show you better than I can tell you. Why don’t I pick you up this afternoon and show you around? I haven’t lived here long, so we can do the ‘tourist thing’ together, you know. Go to the Washington Monument, the White House, the Smithsonian, and that kinda stuff. What do you think?”
There was silence on her end, like she was contemplating my offer. “I don’t know, Jay. I was really planning on spending some time alone; I’ve got a lot of things to think about.”
“Come on, Ashlee. I’ll even throw in dinner. How about Legal Seafood? I know you like seafood, don’t you?”
“Of course I do; I love fish but I don’t eat shellfish.”
“Well, all right. Then it’s a date.”
“Okay, but I don’t want you to get the wrong impression—this is not a date; I am not looking for a man, and I am nobody’s one-night stand.”
Yeah, right! So you just called me out of the blue because you’re not interested. This is going to be easier than I thought.
“If you say it’s not a date, it’s not a date. Now, where can I pick you up?”
“I’m staying at the Grand Hyatt on H Street near the Convention Center. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ll find it. How about I pick you up around two?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you in the lobby. Bye, Jay.”
“Ashlee, wait. What’s your cell number…just in case?”
“713—”
“Cool. Later, Ashlee.” I clicked off the phone, grinning from ear to ear as I saved Ashlee’s digits in my cell. I hadn’t been this excited about a date or whatever you wanna call it in years. Ashlee did something to me that no woman had done to me in a long time—she excited me in every way. I could hardly wait to run my fingers through her long, pretty hair.
CHAPTER 4
Ashlee
Sunrays burst through the sheer drapes, warming the purple baby-doll nightie that barely covered my naked ass. I rolled over and spread my legs, allowing the sunshine to kiss my kitty, warming me from the outside in. I sure could’ve used some dick last night instead of going to sleep horny as hell. Tilting my pelvis toward the stimulating rays, I couldn’t believe this Jay guy, but at the same time, I couldn’t get him off my mind.
Fantasizing about Jay, I teased my pubic hairs. Sprawled atop the king-sized comforter, I double-checked to make sure I’d hung up my cell phone before tossing it on the pillow. Didn’t want Jay to accidentally overhear me talking about him. Throwing my head backward, I laughed out loud. “Playa-playa…is he for real or what?”
Enjoying myself, I spread my lips wide and rotated my hips clockwise. At first I was thrilled about going out with Jay, but now I wasn’t so sure. He might just be something or someone to do to take my mind off my issues until I leave tomorrow. At least that was what I was telling myself.
Neither my parents nor my ex knew where I was, and since I didn’t know anyone in D.C. and didn’t have anything better to do, I decided I could spend time alone tonight after Jay dropped me off in the lobby. Worst-case scenario—I’d have someone to think about as I masturbated myself to sleep.
I’d given Jay way too much credit. Jay was definitely a slickster, yelling, “Will you stop fucking calling?” in my damn ear before he even said hello. Clearly, he’d pissed some woman off, or she’d pissed him off. Hell, he’d pissed me off too, asking, “Ashlee who?” like he could ever forget me.
Jay acted as though I’d been the one running game on him in the club, with his casual effort to remember who I was. Or maybe he was so accustomed to handing out business cards that he’d lost track—if he’d ever kept track—of the women he gave his number to. But whoever he’d upset this early, he’d probably messed up her entire day.