Santa Monica

He gets up to smoke a cigarette after he fucks you. You remain prone, your jeans strangling your calves in a reminder you need to get to the gym. Calmly, you adjust your bra and pull your shirt over your stomach. You watch him open a window and light up. It’s still early. He coughs and does not look at you, but places a long, cool finger on the windowpane before scratching his neck. Is this your cue to get the heck out of Dodge? You are unsure how to proceed. He turns toward you.

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