Going through the motions
She slept with me, but her heart wasn’t in it.
I could tell she was going through the motions. There was no joy. If there would’ve been a timeclock above my bed, she would’ve punched it, and then placed her metal lunchbox and hardhat off to the side.
Afterwards, I asked her why she even bothered to fuck me.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I felt like I had to.”
“Because I bought you dinner?”
“No, because you made me sign that contract that said I had to sleep with you if I bought you dinner.”
“Why’d you sign it then?” I asked. “No one made you sign it.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s nice to be wanted. And it was a really nice restaurant.”
“You know, that contract wasn’t binding,” I said. “I wrote it up in like five seconds. I don’t think a judge can rule in a court of law that you have to sleep with someone.”
“Well, I didn’t really think of that until now,” she said defensively.
I mimed putting on a powdered wig.
“Judge Fellatio presiding! Give that man a beej, I say!” I couldn’t stop laughing.
I never saw her again after that night. I guess she just didn’t feel wanted anymore.
