Chapter 7

He shouldn't have been surprised that she wasn't there when he woke up. All of her actions that night had been that of someone looking for an anonymous fuck. The lack of conversation, the way she'd managed to avoid giving her name or any way of contacting her, and yes, he'd checked. In fact it was the first thing he'd done once he'd realised she'd left.

Rationalising, his first thought had been that she'd gone for a shower, but the bathroom was empty. Likewise with the kitchen, the living room, that was when he'd begun looking for a note, some explanation. Last night had been some of the most incredible sex of his life and he couldn't believe that she hadn't felt the same connection he had. But despite searching the flat from top to bottom he'd found nothing, it was like she'd never been there. If it wasn't for the two cold mugs of coffee on the living room table, he would have written it off as a rather enjoyable, very vivid alcohol induced dream, but his mind wouldn't let him do that.

Despite the amount he'd had to drink that night he still remembered every part of it with perfect clarity, and the hollow feeling inside his chest just confirmed his suspicions. She had just been using him. And damned if it didn't hurt a little that she either hadn't recognised or hadn't cared how just leaving would affect him.

Although thinking about it, he concluded that she would be most men's ideal one night stand. Hot, completely uninhibited in bed and with no awkward morning after to contend with. The fact that he didn't want it to be just a one night stand was irrelevant and he kicked himself for not waking up when she left his bed, or at least getting her phone number before he fucked her. She probably thought he was just another asshole guy and had left to spare him the embarrassment of the aftermath.

He didn't like the idea that she might have that image of him, but it sure as hell was more comfortable than the alternative. Nobody likes to feel used, him especially, perhaps him even more so because he'd always made a point of never treating a woman as just another hole to fuck, another conquest like some of his friends did. But then he'd never behaved like he had last night. And yet he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. He'd thought he'd had good sex before but he'd never been with a girl who made him lose himself so completely that he forgot what he was doing. And now he had, he wasn't sure he'd be satisfied with the pleasant, mutually orgasmic sex he'd experienced previously.

Briefly he considered returning to the bar that evening, but he remembered her saying she'd never been there before. At least he thought that was what she'd meant, the question "Do you come here often?" was a little ambiguous after all. Fuck it, he didn't have anything else to do tonight, what would it hurt to sit in a bar for a bit, he could watch the game on the big screen, sink a few beers, better than sitting at home on his lonesome with just the TV for company.