Chapter 6

ANNA

After watching movies with John, my week seemed to take forever. Work was hectic, and I wasn't getting much sleep. Whatever post-Robert damper on my libido was gone and I was ragingly horny, which seems to be my natural state since I was about 12.

I'd get horny, then I wouldn't fall asleep so I'd masturbate hoping that'd allow me some peace, but usually it just made things worse. There were far too many days where I'd go to school sleep-deprived, sore and grouchy, and worried that's what the rest of my life would be like. And it was, until I lost my virginity in college. Whatever the reason, actual sex seems to short-circuit the insomniac in me, and I get at least few days of good sleep before the cycle starts again.

Now it's been far too long, and what worse is that when I do get to sleep, my dreams are completely saturated with sexual encounters that never actually consummate, so I end up even hornier and tired when I get up. The worst had been the dream on John's couch. I'd begun to think of it as "The Pillar Dream." And not only did I wake up unfulfilled, but also depressed because I never got to see His face. My dreams the rest of the week had been much the same. Most of them I can barely remember, but the feeling of loss is the same every morning. Loss and raging horniness. I may have to find my own bar-pickup if this keeps up. I have no illusions that I'll find The One in a bar, but sometimes a girl just needs to get laid.

Saturday morning and once again I'm up with the rising sun. Fuck. I know John went out to try his hand at the bar scene, and I'm dying with curiosity. Did he find someone? Does John even do one night stands? The thought makes me feel a little weird, jealous I guess, but I slept alone last night, so I think I'm allowed a little jealousy if he got laid.

I get up, shower, get dressed and think about what to do today. I wonder if John has time to hang out. Hmmm ... maybe not if he wound up with some trollop last night. Well, if he did, she should meet me, because that's going to be important in the long run.

Finally I can't wait any longer and call him from the cafe. He sounds pissed and asleep. Mostly asleep. I'm taken aback when he threatens to spank me, I don't know that he's ever done that before, and oddly the warmth of the sun from dreams seems to be back, at least in my ass. I taunt him again, but he doesn't rise to the bait and I can hear he's much more awake now. I wonder if the spanking comment came from a conscious John, or a sleeping John. Would he really do those kinds of things? To a lover, anyway, I know he wouldn't spank me. I wonder if I wasn't closer to the target than I thought with the "yes master" comment. I wonder if that's his secret ... The warmth in my butt has migrated forward, now my whole abdomen feels like it's a banked-coal fire. I've definitely gotta find a hook-up soon. I miss that part of college, if I'm honest. It was way easier to find no-strings-attached fun from decent guys in college than it is now. Is it too skeezy to try and pick up a college guy? I look young enough (too young actually) but ... I decide to table that for now and collect our coffee and pastries.

John looks worse for wear when I hand him the cup of coffee, but I don't smell any strange perfume or see any evidence of another woman in the apartment. I find I'm relieved.

While I often enjoy meeting John's girlfriends for the first time, the cut-and-thrust of female posturing is always entertaining until they figure out I'm no threat, this time I'm just happy I don't have to deal with it. So either he turfed her out last night, which wouldn't be John's style I'd guess, or he came home empty handed. I'm antsy again, and I've barely touched my coffee. I almost have to sit on my hands, to keep from interrogating him about last night.

Infuriatingly, he starts slow. Focusing on drinking his coffee until his eyes lose some of their dullness and begin showing signs of life.

"You are a sainted angel, Anna." He murmurs into his coffee.

"All because of coffee?" I ask, eyebrow raised.

"Yes. Sweet sweet coffee" he mumbles, and his eyes close. I would swear he's about to start snoring on me, and I've already decided to beat him with a pillow if he does, when his eyes flash open and focus on me with a warning glare. I put the pillow down, barely realizing I'd even picked it up, and my knees feel a little weak. There is immense strength in those eyes. I don't know that he's ever looked at me like that before.