SEX in Seattle?
It’s URGENT.
“Hey,” he’s playing it smooth. I almost buy it. “It’s me. Call me.”
Only two face-to-face meetings with what was supposed to be a textbook one-night-stand and he’s already thrusting himself into the familiar. Thank GOD it went straight to voice-mail.
… one hippopotamus… two hippopotamus… three hippopotamus… BINGO!
Text #1: HOW DOES SEATTLE SOUND?
… one Mississippi… two Mississippi…
Text #2: FREE TICKET + FREE HOTEL = NICE LITTLE WEEKEND.
… holy… shit…
Text #3: NEXT WEEKEND?
It’s plausible, but is it palpable? Two meetings. One hook up. Mr. Write chides me hourly about my “no strings attached” mantra.
“Everything’s got strings attached somehow,” he grimaces. “It’s just a matter of what kinds of strings are attached and who they’re attached to.”
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