You Always Remember Your Second

“Oh, you’re so mean!” she said laughing, as we strode out of the bar and into the cool night air.

She was tipsy now, not drunk, but all the giggly headiness that consecutive glasses of champagne bring on. I knew where we were going. I knew what the outcome of this night would be. Just like it had been before.

She lit a cigarette and blew smoke as we walked. “I live around here, you know,” she said. I know. “But I’m not sure I want to invite you up to my apartment…. it’s kind of messy.” She giggled again.

I laughed. “Oh my god, I knew it. You’re a slob, aren’t you?” I grinned roguishly and let her take my arm. “Now I’m definitely not coming up to your apartment.”

She was under my spell now. I could feel it. We walked through the sliding glass doors to the condo’s lobby and they parted magically for us like The Red Sea.

She pulled me onto the elevator and we kissed passionately. All I could hear was the sound of the doors closing and the blood rushing in my ears and the screams of the girl before her. She pulled me out onto the sixth floor and down the hallway.

“Gee, I’m not sure I should let you into my apartment,” she said, turning the key in the lock. The door swung open. “You’re not some kind of serial killer are you?” She laughed and fell against the closet.

I kissed her hard. The screams were louder in my head now. Not yet. I smiled. But soon.

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