Ruined by LP Lovell Page B

all the sexual appeal of showering an elderly person who can’t shower themselves. A normal person would have seen it that way. Hell, my mind might have seen it that way, but my other head…well…boobs. That’s pretty much it.
    Needless to say I was wound up to fuck after that, and my hand just wasn’t doing the trick. So I went out to a bar I sometimes visit, and I picked up this girl. She seemed perfectly normal at the time. Now, I don’t take chicks back to my place. It’s always a nightmare in the morning, because no matter how many times you tell them it’s just sex, they’re always, always shocked to realise they’ve been used like a cheap hooker. Seriously, was me telling her to suck me like a dirty whore not clue enough? Then you have to try and get the crazy bitch out of your house. Not to mention the fact that she then knows where I live. No, no, no. Not good.
    Last night’s conquest is from out of town, so I got a hotel room. Now this bitch is freaky, and when I say it’s freaky, it’s fucking freaky! It’s been a long time since a girl has wanted to stick her finger up my arse, but well…the pipes needed a good clean, and fucking hell, nothing makes me come harder than a little hole action. She just slipped it on up there while she sucked me off. Like a fucking pro. I half wondered whether she might ask me for money this morning, she was that good. No such luck though. This morning, she asked me to go to breakfast with her. Breakfast! What is this, a fucking date? Jesus, I fucked her, I’m not marrying her.
    I declined of course, and she got real fucking twitchy. Like, whole can of crazy twitchy. I know that look, and it means shit is about to go down, and balls are going to get busted. So, because I hate crazy women, and have no desire to deal with that shit, I went to breakfast with her.
    I managed to fire a sneaky text to Theo on the way down. It simply read: SOS. I then sent him the hotel address.
    This a perfected system we have going on.
    She starts talking, and it turns out I said I would take her back to her friend’s house on the other bloody side of London. I’m not sitting in a car with this bitch for an hour. No way no how. When will women realise that a guy will say anything to get laid?
    Fuck, I can’t even remember her name. She’s kind of pretty, which is a miracle considering how much I drank last night. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. I’ve never had a type before, I mean pussy is pussy, but blondes do seem to be my thing lately. She actually doesn’t look that young, and judging from her moves last night, she’s not. No eighteen year old can pull that shit. She’s wearing a pair of skin tight jeans and some weird see through top. I’ve definitely done worse.
    She chats to me endlessly about her life, none of which I remotely give a fuck about. I remember now why I don’t like talking to women after sex. You meet a woman, you think she’s hot, you take her to a room, and you fuck her brains out. There’s an element of mystery in this. I don’t then want to know that she’s a fucking hair dresser, or that she has a kid. Illusion ruined. Harsh, I know, but true.
    My phone beeps with a text from Theo: Here.
    “Is that your girlfriend?” She suddenly asks. O-kay. There’s that crazy again.
    “My friend.” I say with a small smile. “Uh, listen, I think I left my wallet upstairs in the room, I’m just going to get it so I can pay for breakfast.”
    She smiles and shrugs one shoulder. “Okay.”
    I plaster a fake grin on my face and haul arse. I don’t even stop at the reception desk, just pull a wad of cash from my wallet…which is in my pocket, and throw it on the desk. “Room 104.” I tell the startled looking woman behind the desk.
    I glance back over my shoulder to check that crazy isn’t following, and jog through the main door of the hotel. Rescue is awaiting me on the curb in the form of Theo, waiting in his bright red McLaren.
    I pull the handle and