Head is pounding. Reach for a glass of water. Can’t find it. Open my eyes. The sun pierces my retina. Close my eyes, but struggle to fall back in sleep.

Noises come from the kitchen as glasses ding against the sink. I hear the light tapping of footsteps coming my way. Olivia pops her half-naked body out of the kitchen and frowns. “Took you long enough,” she says. “You’ve been sleeping all day.”

“What time is it?” I ask, smacking my mouth open and closed. How much did I drink? I should have went home, but the temptation to feel a woman’s body against me, in another bed, was too great for me to handle.

“It’s almost one. Do you work today?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “No, I’ve got the day off, unless someone calls me in.”

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, leaning against the wall and drying off her hands. “You could get called into surgery and then you’d have to operate on someone’s… brain, or something, while being totally hung-over?”

She looks surprised, but this is what I do on a daily basis. This is my life. It’s like making coffee in the morning. “Pretty much. I mean, at this point, I’ve done enough surgeries to feel comfortable enou—”

“You really have done that?” she asks, horrified by my response.

“I’ve done it at least a thousand times,” I boast. “I’ve never lost anyone in surgery.”

“You’re a freak, James Mason. A total freak,” she says.

“I signed up for a job that lets me cut people open with knives. You thought I was going to be normal? I’m far from it, baby,” I say. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“I guess you’re right. It would be a great job if you were a serial killer,” she says.

“Maybe I am.” I jump out of bed and run towards her, arms out. She screams and jumps back. I calm my position and laugh, kissing her on the cheek. “No, my job is pretty weird. There’s no doubt about it.”

“I’m just trying to open a simple juice bar. After I get that diploma, you should stop by,” she says.

“A juice bar?” I ask her. “What are your grades like again?”

“Don’t be mean. I’d have the best damn juice in this stupid city. Anyway, I’m lying. I’m not opening a juice bar. To be honest, my GPA is 4.3 and I still have no idea what I’m going to do with my life,” she says. The coffee machine behind her starts sputtering, until hot air prevails against the water. “Oh, coffee!” She jumps up and runs toward the machine.

“One splash of cream, please,” I say.

“Yes, sir,” she replies back.

The great worry of school and what you can tackle after you’re done. I remember that fear. It somehow used to paralyze me. That was before I knew what life was really like. “It doesn’t really matter what you do. But if there’s something that calls to you, you need to just dive into it. You only really lose when you don’t go for something,” I say.

“How motivational-speaker of you. You should speak at the graduation. Really, you’d be good at it,” she says.

She’s full of sass, just ready to destroy any man who comes her way. Was she really a virgin? I have to admit, last night was the one of the hottest experiences I’ve ever had.

“Were you really a virgin or were you just saying that to role play?” I ask her.

I walk into the kitchen as she pours the coffees. The rich aroma fills the room, filling my senses with excitement and the standard pleasure I now need to feel every morning. She turns around and hands me a cup. “Well, did it turn you on, big boy?” she asks.

I look down at her soft shorts. They ride up her thighs like it’s no thing, but I’m already hard again and my boxer-briefs are no concealer. Soft. Everything about her is soft. Not to mention, tight. Brand new. Like a present on Christmas fucking day, I untied that ribbon and threw it behind me.

“What do you think?” I walk forward and push my body close to hers. She looks up at me with those youthful eyes. I just want to keep doing terrible things to her. I want to feel her tight pussy wrap around my cock. I want to hear her cries and her moans. I want to feel her shake against me. Shit. I just want to fuck her into Thursday, over and over again.

“I think you’re a nasty pervert. But who cares what I think? I liked it too,” she says. She leans forward on her tippy-toes and kisses me lightly. She walks back into the bedroom of her apartment and sits on the bed.

“How old are you?” I ask her.

“Seventeen,” she says, with a wink.

“Stop. I’m not that sick. I know that much,” I say.

“I’m twenty-three,” she says. “I took a few years off of school, so it has taken me a bit to get here. And you?”

I cool my coffee off with a few quick breaths, eventually taking a small sip to feel the temperature. “You really want to know?” I ask her. I’m old, dammit. At least, getting there. Thirty-five. Who the hell thought I’d make it?

“Duh. Let me guess. You’re thirty-two,” she says.

“How flattering. But no, I’m thirty-five. Thirty-six this year,” I say.

“Not bad,” she says. I take another sip of coffee and set it down on her bedside table. I move toward her, unable to get my eyes off her body. The way she feels against me is like nothing in this world. My hand can firmly grip any part of her body. Maybe my father is right. Maybe I do need a woman…

“Finish your coffee, weirdo,” she says. I grab the cup again and drink a big gulp.

“So, when are we doing this again?” I ask.

With a raised eyebrow, she says, “Who said we are? Maybe this was just a onetime thing.”

“Or maybe not.” I crawl back onto the bed and place my hands on her thighs. She doesn’t protest, so I move in for the kill. I place my lips against her stomach and kiss her smooth skin.

Finally, as I drag my head downward, she pushes me off her and groans. “Seriously,” she says. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?” The words just fall from my mouth.

“Because, I don’t know. I’m thinking that maybe I shouldn’t go crazy with things just because we had a good time,” she says.

I put my hands in the air and back off. “Fine. I understand. So you just want to call it quits then?” I ask her. She’s confusing as hell. Of course, I’m not about to call it quits on my end. I need this woman again. It’s just a fact of nature.

“I don’t know what I want,” she says.

Her attitude has completely shifted in emotion. I continue to work my magic on her. “Look, I owe you something,” I say.

She glances up at me and laughs lightly. “You owe me something?”

“Yeah, I owe you a good night,” I say. She rolls her eyes when I say it, but I clarify further. “Not like that. I mean, why don’t you go out with me sometime? We can go to this place down the street from me. Best steaks in town.”

“Let me think about it,” she says. “I’ve got your number.”

“That’s alright with me,” I say. “Take your time. I’m easy.”

As soon as I’m done with the coffee, I leave her place. There’s a small kiss goodbye, a few smiles, and then the door closes, and I’m back out in the world again.

What was last night? Did it even really happen? It felt like pure, and utter fantasy. It’s the kind of thing you wish to happen but never does. The funny thing is, I thought she’d be out of my system by now. I didn’t even plan to spend the night. It’s my one rule with women. Always go home after the hot and heavy has died down.

I broke my only rule. But why?

All I know is that I have to get her to see me again. If she’s not game, I’ll go crazy. It’s not like me to get this hung up on someone, purely because of the sex, but my god, Olivia was incredible and it was only her first time. All of the images run through my mind. I want her. I need her. I’m downright obsessed.