The Rebound Guy

Perry is my rebound guy. He's basically around to help me get over Scott. Not a problem. I can hang in for a bit. It's good to have the company. The sex. A person to hang out with. I haven't told him outright that he's just a filler. I assume he knows. Six years of intense relationship does not disappear over night but a girl has needs. Perry is good in bed. I put the finishing touches on the outfit and steel myself for the evening. I love spending time with Perry but most of his friends make me want to chew my own wrists open. Tonight we are going to a party throw by Don and Diana. I hate them for many reasons but the foremost are their names. The double D thing. Also, they talk too fucking much.

I am told the party is to celebrate some big event in their relationship. I couldn't give a hoot about their relationship. Or them. However, an appearance at the shindig guarantees two things: really good liquor as they go for only the best and, most importantly, I will get laid.

When I answer the doorbell, Perry does a quick scan of my ensemble and smiles. "Nice. I like the skirt. You look gorgeous." "Thank you," I laugh. Even in heels I have to stand on tiptoe to kiss him. I am not short. At nearly six feet tall, Perry towers over me a good five or six inches. He is tall and big all over and I like that. I like that he makes me feel small whereas with most men I can stare them straight in the eye even while barefoot. "Now, about this party," I say and light a cigarette. Perry frowns at my smoke. He doesn't like it that I smoke. He really doesn't like that I smoke around him. But, like I said, he is the rebound guy. He'll just have to deal with it.

"We don't have to stay long, Erin," he sighs in response to my unasked question. "And must you smoke around me? Really?" His green eyes turn a little grey with what I can only assume is frustration. Maybe anger. Whatever. "Sorry, I'm nervous," I say and wave the smoke away from him as best I can. "I can assume that as usual I will be stuffed with jumbo shrimp and premium vodka and regaled with tales of love in the world of marriage?" I grin to make sure he knows I am joking. Kind of. "Probably. Now if you can crush that death stick out we can go on our way and get this over with." He puts his big arm around me and guides me out of the apartment. He locks my door and takes my arm. I let him do all this because I like it when a man is in charge and even though he isn't, I let him think he is for now.

On the way to the car, I light another cigarette and listen to him let out a low growl. I smile at him as I pass through a puddle of light that spills from the street lamp. "Don't you want to know what's under my skirt?" I ask both to tease him and to make sure he knows that I fully intend getting fucked by him tonight.

"Of course I do. But can I guess?" He unlocks the car, waits for me to crush out the smoke and sit. Then he shuts my door. Ever the gentleman. When he gets in the driver's side he raises his eyebrows and waits. I notice how big his hands are on the steering wheel. I've never really noticed before. "Sure. Guess," I whisper as I study his broad palms, long, thick fingers and square shiny fingernails. "Purple thong. The one with the little gold circle dead centre in the back. I love that triangle. I always try to see if I can fit the very tip of my tongue through the little hole."