We lay there sweaty and breathless tangled in each other. He's like a drug to me, I know it's wrong and nothing good can come of this but I just can't stop. I need to feel his touch, breathe his breath and taste his skin. He sits up and asks if I want a beer.
"I don't drink beer." I remind him.

We've known each other over a year, we've been to countless bars, drank more than our weight in alcohol, helped each other hold our hair back when we puked, passed out together in strangers houses and he still doesn't remember that I don't drink beer. That should tell me something. Yet I smile as I feel that great after sex tingling sensation all through out me.

We spend the next two hours on the couch watching reruns of "The Simpson's" and barely talking as he drinks his beer and I drink my Jack and Diet. I finally decide the moment is done and it's not coming back tonight so I tell him I have to get up early and better get going.

"Later." He says.

I drive home trying to convince myself that this is indeed a relationship, and not just "friends with benefits." You know how in those old eighties movies the main character has a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other and they argue back and forth. This is what is happening to me, only there is no angel or devil and I feel completely insane.

"His kisses are so soft and gentle, why would he kiss me like that if he didn't love me?"
"Because it's called foreplay dumb ass."
"But the sparks, the sparks alone have got to be love, right?"
"Nope, sane people call it lust."
"OK, well he did things to me that no one would do unless their in love."
"No sweaty, horny guys do it to get the chic off."

So for now the devil wins, or should I say the obvious wins. I go home feeling used and unloved. What the fuck, it was still amazing sex and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

(New Chapter)

My job sucks, did I mention that yet? Well it does, some days more than others. I'm a hairstylist at a trendy place in the corner district; I have clients that make more in a month than I will this year. I work on the same women for 3 hours, perming and cutting her awful silver hair. She has money, why doesn't she just dye it already. She nit picks at everything I do.

"Are you sure those are the same rollers we used last time?"
"Yes, I have it right here in your chart, same size we've used for the last two years." I say
"Are those scissors clean, I heard you can get fungus from unclean scissors you know?"
I try not to sound pissy. "That's clippers at nail salons. But yes, we wash all our instruments after each client."

This goes on and on through the three agonizing hours. Finally I'm done and she tells me it looks fantastic and I'm a real artist. "Great." I think, "at least I'll get a good tip out of the old hag. She goes up front and the receptionist comes back and throws the tip on my counter. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask her as I count the money over and over. "10 percent! She tipped me a lousy 10 percent!" She pays $200 for a perm and haircut, drives a silver Mercedes with fucking wiper blades on the headlights and for my "fantastic work" she gives me 10 percent! God, I hate this job.

After work I head to the local bar for a drink with my "load" of tips from the day. After two Jack and Diets and at least $25 spent in "Photo Hunt" I feel hands around my waist that I immediately recognize as his.

"Hey beautiful." He says.
"Hey yourself." I say back, trying to sit up straighter and push out my chest without being obvious.

We do our usually dance of drinking and flirting, more drinking and more touchy-feely flirting until we are both so drunk and so aroused we decide to walk to his house. Number one, because we are too drunk to bend over without falling on our heads let along be in control of a large motor vehicle. And number two, because its close and we are going to need to be naked in the next few minutes before we explode. We could just stumble to the bathroom and go at it there but last time we did that the owner wasn't real pleased when he walked in to see two naked people sitting on a toilet. Plus, I realized the next day how disgusting it was to fuck where people shit.

We make it to his front yard only falling down a couple times during the two block walk. I think I see a bunny, so I decide it's a good idea to run after it, catch it and keep it as a pet. OK, so running wasn't the best idea. I trip over my own feet and land face down in the grass. As he's laughing hysterically he falls down next to me and lets me know it wasn't a bunny, but a squirrel.

"Whatever, it was cute and I almost had it." I tell him.

As we lie on the dew soaked grass and look up at the stars (that are spinning counter clockwise by the way.) I listen to the silence and lean over to kiss him. His lips are so soft, so full and taste so good. He grabs me and pulls me onto him. He pulls my hair as he kisses my neck, opens my shirt and kisses my chest. I gasp at the feel of him; I throw off my shirt, grab his and pull it up over his head as he rolls us over so he is on top. Kissing, biting, tugging and scratching we connect as one again. I can smell his sweat and fresh cut grass at the same time. Knowing we are outside and could be discovered anytime is invigorating and the cool night against my naked skin makes me feel more alive than I ever have. This is passion, this is fierce love, and this is erotic.