Sandys Seduction Ch 07

He shouldn't have been surprised that she wasn't there when he woke up. All of her actions that night had been that of someone looking for an anonymous fuck. The lack of conversation, the way she'd managed to avoid giving her name or any way of contacting her, and yes, he'd checked. In fact it was the first thing he'd done once he'd realised she'd left.

Rationalising, his first thought had been that she'd gone for a shower, but the bathroom was empty. Likewise with the kitchen, the living room, that was when he'd begun looking for a note, some explanation. Last night had been some of the most incredible sex of his life and he couldn't believe that she hadn't felt the same connection he had. But despite searching the flat from top to bottom he'd found nothing, it was like she'd never been there. If it wasn't for the two cold mugs of coffee on the living room table, he would have written it off as a rather enjoyable, very vivid alcohol induced dream, but his mind wouldn't let him do that.

Despite the amount he'd had to drink that night he still remembered every part of it with perfect clarity, and the hollow feeling inside his chest just confirmed his suspicions. She had just been using him. And damned if it didn't hurt a little that she either hadn't recognised or hadn't cared how just leaving would affect him.

Although thinking about it, he concluded that she would be most men's ideal one night stand. Hot, completely uninhibited in bed and with no awkward morning after to contend with. The fact that he didn't want it to be just a one night stand was irrelevant and he kicked himself for not waking up when she left his bed, or at least getting her phone number before he fucked her. She probably thought he was just another asshole guy and had left to spare him the embarrassment of the aftermath.

He didn't like the idea that she might have that image of him, but it sure as hell was more comfortable than the alternative. Nobody likes to feel used, him especially, perhaps him even more so because he'd always made a point of never treating a woman as just another hole to fuck, another conquest like some of his friends did. But then he'd never behaved like he had last night. And yet he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. He'd thought he'd had good sex before but he'd never been with a girl who made him lose himself so completely that he forgot what he was doing. And now he had, he wasn't sure he'd be satisfied with the pleasant, mutually orgasmic sex he'd experienced previously.

Briefly he considered returning to the bar that evening, but he remembered her saying she'd never been there before. At least he thought that was what she'd meant, the question "Do you come here often?" was a little ambiguous after all. Fuck it, he didn't have anything else to do tonight, what would it hurt to sit in a bar for a bit, he could watch the game on the big screen, sink a few beers, better than sitting at home on his lonesome with just the TV for company.

***

It was past midnight when he finally accepted she wasn't coming. Not that he'd expected her to, hoped perhaps, but in a way he was glad she hadn't. If he'd had to watch her sitting at the bar again, enticing some other poor guy with her incredible body then he wasn't certain he wouldn't have done something stupid, like try to warn him off or more likely punch his lights out, bad move all round. Besides, if she wasn't here tonight then maybe last night had been a one off, the image of her with a different guy each night burnt away in his stomach and anything to sooth that sensation was a good thing.

Unless, his brain whispered, she deliberately went somewhere else, thinking that you might try and find her again.

No! He wouldn't think like that. Yesterdays behaviour had been an aberration for both of them, he wouldn't consider the thought that she might do this regularly.

Stepping out of the bar into the cold night he felt that awful churning in his stomach again and swayed slightly as the fresh air took effect. Maybe he'd had a few more beers than he should have, but nothing that the walk home wouldn't fix.

Deciding some food in his empty belly would probably be a good idea, he stumbled unsteadily along the pavement towards the high street. For fucks sake, alcohol never affected him like this, he knew his limits and he didn't go over them, but he realised with a shock that he hadn't eaten anything all day. Damn that girl! There she was getting on with her life and he was mooning around like some lovestruck teenager. He needed to man up, and fast, he was due to go out with a bunch of his friends tomorrow and they would be on his ass as soon as if they thought something was up.

Tonight, tonight he would do the whole drunken used and dumped thing and then tomorrow he'd be fine. Leaning against some railings, he waited while the world lurched around him and his stomach rebelled against the beer, damned if he was going to throw up in some poor sods garden. Swallowing down the bile burning the back of his throat he staggered into the all night cafe, ordering a strong coffee, a burger and fries and falling into a seat at the back of the room. Once he had some food inside him he'd feel much better.