I got home late as usual, but this Friday night, I was extremely tired. My assistant had prepared a warm bath for me before he left. As long as I have him in my life, I do not need a woman.
Ever since his wife was delivered of a baby boy, I released him earlier than before. I am a workaholic, but he is sure not.
With the towel wrapped around my waist and my hair dripping with water, I walked over to the center table in my room. My phone had been ringing before I entered the bathroom.
I knew who it was, so I did not care to check. It is Friday night, and I should be out with the boys – men, actually. I would be, anyways.
They were not calling because they wanted me there. I am a fun killer, so they say. I believe so too.
They need me there. They need my money. Who would pay for all the expensive alcohol, the exclusive space at the five stars club, and the prostitutes they take home without feeling it in his account: no other person but me.
I can not deny them that benefit. Even though I knew they were friends with my money, not me. At least I call them friends, and we club every Friday. That is the lie I tell myself whenever I think of how miserable my life is. My social life especially.
I put the phone to my ear, and I answered immediately without waiting for the person on the other line to say a word.
"I will be out in an hour."
That's right. Another impeccable attribute I've got is time consciousness. I keep to time all the time.
I would be out in sixty minutes like I said, and that countdown begins now.
In fifteen minutes, I was completely dressed in a fitted black gean and a blue polo shirt on blue sneakers designed with a touch of blue. I lack a lot of things but definitely not a sense of fashion.
The club is twenty-five minutes from my house, and I've got fifteen minutes to have my dinner and five minutes for tidying up.
Immediately I got to the dining table; I knew something was wrong just by the arrangement.
I sat down nonetheless. I've got no extra time to investigate my curiosity.
However, when I opened the containers on the table and realized the content, I became alarmed.
"Lobster?" My chef would never serve me lobsters.
"George" I yelled.
My gaze met a strange face coming out of my kitchen in my apron.
"What the hell!" I murmured under my breath before I began to question the stranger in my home.
"Who are you," I asked, demanding a response immediately. My expression gave him a hint.
"Jack, sir! I'm the new chef, sir!" He trembles.
"And where is George?" I asked again.
"I'm not sure who that is, but I guess it is the former chef. He was fired this morning, sir."
"Oh, Darren," I whispered. George was my favorite in the house, but if my assistant had dismissed him, he must have done something terrible. I trust his judgment.
But he should have done his job well. This new chef needs orientation.
Of all the things I hate, lobster is the lead. I hate it more than women. My father loves it more than he loves my mom.
I stood up without saying one more word. If there is something to say, it is definitely not to him but Darren.
Eating out is not my hobby. Which means I would be skipping dinner. It is the first in many years. Is that a sign this Friday night would be different? I scoffed at the thought as I grabbed my car key.
It's time to go.
A special Friday NightI got to the club five minutes earlier. I was surprised. My friends are not waiting for me at the bar as usual. Was I too early? I called one of them – the closest to me to know their whereabouts. "What?" One has paid for the pass, and they are waiting for me in the club. First of its kind. He got a new car, and to celebrate it, the bills this Friday is on him. Not all the bills, though. A special Friday night, indeed! It made me smile. It has been a long time since I smiled outside my office. I was still smiling, waving my key as I walked to the exclusive room. That is when I saw her! She's got long black hair almost reaching her waist. She was wearing the smallest pair of cut jeans short, a white shirt, a cowboy hat, and brown leather boots. The most beautiful woman I have ever met or maybe noticed. She is not really dancing yet, but I knew she was a stripper. We have them around every Friday night. One of the things we get for paying for the VIP ro
My First TimeAs I stood at the door waiting to be let in, several thoughts crossed my mind. I knew what I was doing. I knew it was my cue to leave the club, but I did not. I have never felt this way before. I have never gone after a woman before. I turned back to leave but realized the number of eyes on me. "What the hell is wrong with these men," I thought. I should go in there and have a conversation with the girl. A couple of dollars would do. It will put these men off my back, and I'm sure my friends would change their minds about my impotence.The door opened, and a bouncer let me in. I quickly scan through the room. There is a bed, not large but big enough for people to get smashed. The girl is on the edge of the bed. She lay down flat on the bed, with her legs facing me; she lifted both her legs high up in the air and opened them slowly as wide as they could go. Her hands held her thighs open. She put her feet flat on the bed, so now her knees were bent, but her legs were st
The Stripper is a Whore! We are finally home. I led her straight to my room. My workers, who are still awake, are staring in shock. I could hear the whispers of their gossip as I walked the stairs. For a moment, panic set in. I had not really meant it when I said we could come to mine. Christ, and now we are here. My heart reeled. Should I let her in? Of course! Hurry up! My mind screamed. I guess the alcohol had dulled my senses more than I had imagined as my fingers fumbled with the lock. The door opened, a cold front of outside air pushed in, and we went silently went in along with it. I stood dumbfounded against the wall as she quickly turned the lock, still cocooned in the arms of a slight stupor. I had too much at a time, trying to distract myself from the stripper who was now in my bedroom. This was crazy. She stood still in the shadows without a word, but I loomed over her. I couldn't make out her face except where the light etched along her mouth. It was the most seduct
I did not wake up to the chirps of birds as usual. It is Saturday morning and judging by the atmosphere, I slept past my workout time. Events from yesterday night crossed my mind and I remember immediately that I have a stranger in my room. I looked beside me but she was gone. Nothing of hers remains in the room. I found a note on the table at the center of the room. "This is the worst night of my life. I hope it wasn't for you Mr one minute. I got my pay too." Shit! I did sleep off of her yesterday. But it was not a bad first time for me. She was right about that. How dare she call me a one minute man. I've heard people talk about that phrase and I bet I know what that is. How could she qualify me like that? I was not sure I spent a minute thrusting. She must have left immediately. I checked my wallet and it was as if nothing came out of it. I don't know how much her pay is but knowing she didn't take the whole money surprised me. My stomach make horrible sounds. I am hun
ChristopherThe weekend seems short. Maybe because I could not get my mind off the event on Friday night. For years, I had lived every day the same way until last weekend. And now the event's effect on my life is, I don't know, disastrous I guess. There are things I ought to have attended to during the weekend that I didn't because my thoughts were hijacked. Now my phone won't stop ringing because an investor is giving my assistant a hard time. I sent him ahead to avoid his complaints. Where is my billionaire watch? I have checked my watch storage cases and it is nowhere to be found. It's not my most expensive watch but definitely my favourite. I love Mondays, so I reserve my best for the day. Shit! I used it on Friday. Did it fall off my wrist? Impossible! I quickly run through Friday again and then it hits me. The stripper! I was wondering if she took enough money when she said she has paid herself. I never knew she took my watch. I should probably just let it slide. I would ge
KateMonday morning sleep hits different. Jobless people like myself would scream yes. Well, I have a job. For me it is not about what I do but what gives me money. Let me rephrase that. I do not mind being a stripper so far it pays my bills and you know, meet my needs. "Finally awake" Bev grumbles as she comes out of our small kitchen in the cubicle we call room. We have been staying in that apartment for years, since I got to know Bev actually. We were broke and we could not afford a better house. We are still broke but we can afford a better place now. Bev runs a small boutique not far from the apartment and I get tips every night. Yeah, I work every night except for one day. It's my best day ever. That's an irony. Not that It never occurred to us to get another apartment but it is of no use. If things work out with Bev and her lover, she would move in with him and I would be left to pay the house bills. Too much expenses. Bev keeps hitting her legs or hands on everything in th
Christopher Kate? Who is Kate? I can't seem to get that name out of my mind. Who is she and why did she call? How did she get my contact? While I settle the miscommunication issue with our investor, my thoughts were clouded by these questions. I needed an escape from thinking about the stripper I met on Friday but this is not what I had pictured. Another woman? Is this the time Darren has been talking about? Where women will forcefully find their way into my life? The time I would have no choice but to welcome them? It can't be. I hate women and nothing is going to change that. Not even the sexy stripper I can't stop thinking about. To be logical, I wasn't even thinking about her. I have been thinking about how she made me feel. I'm a man and I have cleared that doubt, thanks to her. But I want more. I want that sensual movement in my hormones again. I miss it already. It's different. It's like heaven. It's sweeter than working on documents. I love potatoes, but the feeling is inco
KateI fought sleep to call exactly thirty minutes after. Once it's 9:40 am, I hit the dial button. I called several times but he did not pick up. Does he know who I am already? I contemplate calling his office line before I finally dialed the number. A woman with a thick voice answered the phone. "How may I help you?" She asked politely. "Direct the call to your boss" I answered"Why boss?""The one who owns the company" "You dialed the wrong number" the lady answered. I should mention his name. I checked the info for his name and before I could say, Chris, she hung up. "Geez," I thought I am the rude one. I've met my competitor. I tried his personal line again and it was the same. After waiting for half an hour and there was no response from him. I decided to send a voicemail to inform him I would be going to his house. It was not a threat, but I made it sound like one. He was just handsome and muscular for nothing. He has a big D too, the one he could not use. That was his of