LAY AND LIE - A BO FEXLER STORY - CLAIR DICKSON
Originally appeared at DZ Allen's MuzzleFlash
I sat down at the dining room table with my just-filled glass of Diet Pepsi. Condensation had already coated the sides of the cup in the short walk from the fridge. With the heat and humidity, my own flesh was covered in similar droplets even in the tank top and short shorts that showed off my every female curve.
"Dawn seems kind of skittish tonight," I commented to Dimi.
He pushed the folded comics section away from him. "Yeah?"
"Did something happen this afternoon?"
He frowned, thought about it and ultimately shook his head. "No. At least nothing I know of."
"Huh. Almost makes me think her mother called. Similar sort of behavior."
"I don't remember the phone ringing."
Dimi gazed at me and ran his fingers through neon blue hair.
"Your hair's getting awful long," I noted.
"Yeah. I've been meaning to get it cut. It keeps getting in my ears."
"And your eyes."
"You should dye your hair again, Bo."
"I rather prefer being a blonde."
"Better with the gentlemen?"
"Oh, yeah. That's a real big concern of mine."
"You've said yourself that you understand the power of sex."
"And aren't men supposed to like blondes?"
"With a body like mine, I hardly think being blonde makes any difference."
"All right. I'll give you that one. I still think you should dye your hair again. Maybe blue."
"Hm." I looked down for moment, studying my glass. "What did you and Dawn do this afternoon?"
"Just . . . chilled."
"In this heat."
"You're being too literal."
"Probably because I read too much."
"I thought this place had A/C."
"It did until the compressor leaked."
"And you're too cheap to fix it."
"I prefer the words frugal and pragmatic."
"What's pragmatic about soaking your clothes in sweat?"
I shrugged. "I'm not as wet as you seem to think I am. You on the other hand, look . . . soggy. And wilted."
He ran his fingers through his hair again. "It's hot, Bo. Way too fucking hot."
"What's it too hot for?"
He grinned. "Depends on the girl."
He looked at me too closely. And for too long. "I might. She's a pretty good-looking girl. Kind of young. She's only, what, nineteen?"
"And you're only twenty-two. At least she's over sixteen, right?"
"Otherwise, it's statutory rape."
"What makes you think I slept with her? I mean, come on, I hardly know the girl."
"I never tuck in my sheets."
He stared at me.
"Someone made my bed today. And they tucked in the top sheet. I can't stand that and would never do it. So, the question is, why would my bed need to be made?"
Dimi's mouth only opened wide enough for his tongue to come out and wet dry lips.
"When you got here, you were complaining about the bad run of luck you had with girlfriends the last couple of months. Most of them didn't even last more than two or three dates. Now, I know you don't quibble over how many dates have passed before you have sex with a girl. But, it doesn't take a quantum physicist to add two and two and conclude that your string of short-lived relationships has probably meant a . . . drought in your sex life."
He grinned sheepishly. "Yep."
"So. I came home, asked how the day went, and Dawn bolts. Didn't think much of it until I went upstairs. And saw my bed."
"You would really notice a thing like that?"
"I'm really anal."
"That'd be nice," Dimi quipped.
"Did you fuck Dawn on my bed? Honestly."
He closed his eyes in a long blink, but when he opened them my piercing gaze was still locked. "Yeah."
"Was it good?"
"Was it good?"
Incredulous, he shook his head and grinned. "Well, yeah."
"Then I suspect my sheets could use changing."
"If it was good."
"You know, I could give you a good lay, too."
"Personally, I happen to think it's way too fucking hot to fuck."
BIO: Over 50 Bo Fexler stories have appeared in naughty places like Out of the Gutter, Yellow Mama, and Crooked. The first Bo Fexler novel is currently trying to seduce agents. Clair muses about writing and has links to her short stories at Bo Fexler, PI.
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