Two weeks ago I dyed my hair dark. Out with the old and in with the new, right? I needed a change and hair is really just about the easiest thing I can possibly change. Every time I pass by a mirror I do a double take since I’m still not used to it yet. I haven’t spoken to Trey since the day I dumped his ass. I’ve spoken to his wife several times, however, and I think… I think we might actually be friends at this point. We have something significant in common after having been fucked over by the same guy.
Janella is actually a really nice woman. She and Trey have two boys together, Sean and Seth, and three days ago she had a baby girl she named Clarity, but calls Clare for short. I gotta say, I admire her sass for doing that.
The same day I dyed my hair I met Sam Merlotte at the bar I go to with the stylists after work. O’Leary’s is a little dive pub a block away from the salon. It just so happened that a Flogging Molly tribute band was playing there that night and Sam asked me to dance. He’s polite and sweet and he works as a pharmacist at Rush. He’s originally from a tiny town about twenty miles south of Carbondale. His grandparents are actually Mennonite, but his parents opted not to be baptized in the church.
I like Sam. He’s generally pretty soft spoken and easy going. In other words, he’s about as different from Trey as a guy can get.
“I picked up my dress for the wedding today,” I tell him while we wait for our meals to be delivered. I’m standing up in another wedding for a friend from college that also happens to be a friend of Aude’s. I don’t know how much contact Aude’s had with Holly, but we’ve stayed relatively close.
“Oh yeah, what color is it? What does it look like?” he asks. Not what does it look like on like just about every other guy I’ve ever dated would ask.
“It’s burgundy and it’s very vintage inspired. It’s got this Old Hollywood feel to it. There’s an art deco pattern in sequins on it. I’m not explaining it very well, but it’s a beautiful dress. I would actually wear this one again to another wedding or fancy function.” I sip my glass of wine and feel relieved when I see the waiter approaching with our food. Not that I’m in a rush to get out of here or anything; I’m starving.
“Sounds lovely,” he smiles. He turns around to see the waiter as well and says, “Oh good, I’m starving.”
“Me too. I didn’t have time for lunch today. One minute we were dead and the next I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off.”
The waiter sets down Sam’s steak in front of him and my bowl of pasta in front of me. There’s a basket of fresh garlic bread and a baked potato for Sam.
“My mouth is watering like a motherfucker,” I say once the waiter is gone.
Sam cringes. He leans across the table to whisper, “Do you need to use such unladylike language?”
I arch an eyebrow at that. Unladylike my ass.
“Oh I’m a lady but I’m not a nun. Don’t ever get those two things confused,” I reply. I don’t need him lecturing me on my diction.
“It’s just so… It makes my skin crawl when I hear women use curse words, especially in public.”
“Then you must spend a lot of time cringing. Look, Sam, that’s the way I talk. If you can’t deal with it, this isn’t going to work.” I’m not compromising myself because Pollyanna here can’t handle me using dirty words.
He sighs and shakes his head, but doesn’t respond. He cuts into his steak to take a bite. This is our third date and so far I haven’t gotten much more than a few kisses from him, which is fine. Contrary to what happened with Eric, I’m not generally the kind of girl that falls into bed with someone. I had my years in college where I played a little fast and loose with things, but isn’t that what college is for? My magic number is still in the single digits, and at this point in my life that practically makes me a virgin.
Sam and I don’t talk much while we eat, but I’m fine with that. We’re both hungry and I prefer to eat fettuccine alfredo while it’s still hot. I’m still mopping up some of my sauce with a piece of garlic when someone taps my shoulder. I assume it’s the waiter but I get quite a surprise when I turn my head and see Eric standing there.
He looks good. It’s been almost two months since I saw him last and I know he’s been seeing Aude. She says they’re dating but I don’t know if I believe that. Eric seemed pretty set on not having a girlfriend. Whatever. I’ve tried not to think about him too much.
“Hey, stranger,” I smile up at him.
“Hey,” he smiles back. He glances at Sam and then back to me. “You look fuckin’ good with the dark hair. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Thanks. It was time for a change. How’ve you been?” I glance at Sam, who is clearly uncomfortable, if not curious. “Oh, sorry, Sam, this is Eric Northman. Eric, this is Sam Merlotte.”
“Nice to meet you,” Eric nods and holds out his hand. Sam nods back, shakes Eric’s hand, but stays quiet. Eric looks back at me and says, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you… You should come by sometime so we can catch up. Or I can come to you…”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eric so polite.
I also don’t know if his invitation is just about wanting to get caught up.
“Yeah, maybe. I’ve been busy with the salon lately,” I tell him. “Aude says you’ve been busy at the bakery too.”
“I have been,” he nods. “I tell her I’m busier than I am. She doesn’t know how to take a fuckin’ hint.”
“Sounds like Aude,” I laugh. “I didn’t know when I introduced you two that she was planning on moving back to town.”
“Ah, she’s subletting my sister’s apartment. She’s a fuckin’ clingy bitch and I can’t seem to get rid of her.”
“Sorry to hear that.” I’m only a little sorry to hear that. My guess is even if he wants to ‘get rid of her’ he’s still fucking her regularly.
“Thanks. I’ll let you get back to your dinner. We’re working late at the bakery tonight and I’m spoiling minions with steak,” he chuckles.
“Come see me, really. We need to catch up.”
I nod. “It was good to see you,” I tell him. I’m not really sure if I’ll actually go catch up with him or not. It’s probably better if I don’t.
“I see your friends have that same affliction,” Sam mutters when Eric walks away.
“If you’re going to criticize my friends, the least you could do is speak the fuck up.” I glare at Sam.
“It’s just rude to interrupt us and then spend the whole time staring down your top,” he says. “Not to mention he used the F word more times than I even want to count.”
“Can I expect you to complain about it every fuckin’ time someone cusses?” I ask seriously.
“When ladies cuss, and when your friends are hitting on you right in front of me, yes. It’s rude.”
This shit is not going to work. I’m not censoring myself. We’re not children and we’re not around children. If he can’t deal with it… it’s just not going to work.
Rather than going off on him I finish my meal in silence. When the waiter brings the check, I snatch it up before Sam can pay for it. Honestly, at this point, I can’t wait to get home.
“Sookie, allow me, please,” Sam says politely, reaching over the table.
“No, it’s fine. I’m not very ladylike so I can pay the tab,” I smirk and reach into my purse for my debit card.
Again, he shakes his head. He pulls out his wallet and throws down a ten for the tip. As soon as the bill is all paid up I get up from the table. I don’t even look to see if Sam is following me.
I lift my hand to hail a cab. I don’t even want him to accompany me home.
“Sookie,” Sam calls from behind me.
“What?” I ask without looking back.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s something–”
“Don’t worry about it, Sam. You are who you are and I am who I am. You’re just… you’re a little too uptight for me,” I explain.
“I’m sorry; it’s not something I can change.”
“I’m not asking you to.” A cab comes to a stop in front of me. “But I don’t have to live with it either. It was nice meeting you, Sam.”
“You too, I guess,” he sighs.
“If you think you can lighten up, give me a call,” I tell him before I get in the cab.
I doubt I’ll be hearing from Sam again.
Halfway home I change my mind and have the cabbie drop my off at O’Leary’s. I haven’t had sex since Eric and seeing him again made my lady parts get all up in a twitter. Since he’s not an option, I decide to have a few drinks to forget Sam and maybe find someone to go home with for the night… or at least a few hours.
I end up finding a guy named JB. We have a few drinks together before leaving the bar just after eleven. His place is a block away so we wa
lk there. Our clothes are off within five minutes and it’s obvious as soon as he drops his pants that I’m not going to be screaming his praises like I did with Eric. Hopefully the motion of the ocean makes up for the size of the craft.
He’s a sloppy kisser, although that could just be the alcohol. Sloppy kissing is only okay if it’s on my pussy and it’s obvious when he gets down there that he couldn’t find my clit with a flashlight, a tour guide and Yahoo maps.
“Get a condom,” I tell him. Maybe if I ride him I can still get off.
“Baby, we don’t need a condom. I promise I’ll pull out,” he purrs.
Fuck that noise.
“Either get a condom or I’m leaving,” I threaten. I fell for that condom thing exactly one time when I was eighteen and naïve enough to think the guy would actually pull out. I got my first and only STD that way.
JB wisely gets up and grabs a condom from his nightstand. He rolls it on easily and I push him back onto the bed to straddle him. The only thing that’s really turning me on right now is the highlight reel playing in my head from fucking Eric. I close my eyes and I convince myself that it’s Eric’s dick I’m sliding down on. JB starts grunting when I bounce up and down on his cock. He’s a fairly muscular guy but he’s got little baby balls, suggesting that he’s probably been juicing to get the physique he’s attained.
“Oh yeah… ride that big cock,” JB tells me. I have to restrain myself from laughing. It’s not that he’s tiny, per se, but he’s not ‘big’ either. I’ve had big. Tray was big. Eric is huge. JB… well, he’s the baby bear of the bunch; let’s just put it that way.
I reach down to rub my clit to help myself along and JB takes that as an invitation to roll us over. It isn’t until I’m trapped under him on my back that I realize he’s sweating profusely. I’m the one bouncing on his cock and he’s sweating? Worse, it’s dripping all over me.
Ew. Ew. Ew.
“You like Big Daddy’s cock pounding your pussy—”
I lose it.
Is he serious?
“You did not just call yourself Big Daddy,” I say through my laughter. That’s just… I have no words. I am not drunk enough for this shit.
“Of course I did,” he pants as his jackhammer hips continue to move.
Yeeeah… okay. I won’t be asking for this fool’s number.
My eyes close and I go back to my highlight reel, but even that’s not enough to undo the damage Big Daddy’s doing… or trying to do. Less than a minute full of grunts and sweat passes before he tells me he’s ready to cum.
I have never been so thankful for a minute man in my whole life.
“So good, baby,” JB gasps as he jerks and flops on top of me like a fish out of water.
If he says so.
I shouldn’t be bored during sex, right?
JB drops on top of me when he’s done and all I can think is how fast I can get home to shower. I shove his shoulder to get his sweaty body off of me.
“That was… yeah, thanks,” I tell him as I sit up.
“Oh, already leaving, baby? The night’s still young.”
“Early day tomorrow,” I lie. I’m off tomorrow. I start picking up my clothes and dressing quickly.
I may have to burn this dress and that’s a shame because I adore this dress.
“That’s too bad,” he slurs. When I look over he’s already dozing off.
“Yeah, terrible. See ya,” I say once I get my shoes on.
Well this night was a total fucking disaster.
I’m tempted to walk over to The Sugar Shack to see if Eric will finish what JB barely started, but I decide not to. Instead I go home and finish myself.