bathroom hoping that she’s ok. She drank quite a bit last night and, well, if I feel like this after a couple of scotches I can just imagine how she’s feeling.
“Leah?” I lightly knock on the door and it slowly creaks open. I step inside and look around but it’s empty. I shout her name as I go to the living room area of the suite, but she’s not in there either. When I go back to the bedroom I notice her all of her stuff is gone. What the fuck? She left.
* * *
I have no way of reaching Leah on Saturday or Sunday, so when Monday comes around I call her office. I need to know that she’s ok and that I didn’t overstep some sort of boundary. I realize as I dial the number (the number that I had to look up because I wasn’t about to call Scott directly), that I have been making myself crazy all weekend to check on a woman I barely even know. A woman, who ran out on me after a night of, what I remember to be, incredible sex. And I remember a lot. It was so incredible, once we started touching each other, that I feel like I instantly sobered. Like I knew that I wanted to be able to remember every second of it. Jesus. I feel like my head is spinning already when, after two rings, the receptionist picks up.
“Good Morning, Sanders and Smith Law Office. This is Kelly.” The slightly high pitched voice of the receptionist answers.
“Good Morning Kelly, may I speak with Ms. Collins please?” I ask, more gruffly than I intend to.
“I’m sorry, sir, but she is out of the office this week. Would you like her voicemail?”
Shit. No I don’t want her fucking voicemail. I’m really pissed now and honestly I’m not even sure why. It’s not Kelly’s fault that Leah ran off and left me going crazy with no way to contact her.
“Uhh, no thank you. Do you know if she will be checking her emails?”
I’m starting to feel like a desperate prick. I’m starting to panic and again, this is a feeling I don’t care for.
“Yes Mr. Cooper, she should be checking her emails while she’s out.”
Fuck. Of course they have caller ID, I don’t know what I was thinking. Kelly’s placating tone just confirms that I sound as crazy as I feel right now so I thank her and hang up. What the hell is wrong with me? So what if she’s out of the office this week. So what if she skipped out after a night of amazing sex. I’ve done that before too, so I can’t figure out why can’t not stop thinking about her. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been the one left behind. Even so, my behavior is starting to feel a bit irrational. But for some reason I need to know that she’s ok. I need to know that I didn’t take advantage of her in her inebriated state, so I sit down and send her a quick email. Well, not a quick e-mail. The three simple sentence that I manage to put together take me an insane amount of time to type up. It takes me even longer to work up the courage to send it.
Another unwelcome thought occurs to me just as I finally manage to hit send the send button, what if the sex wasn’t as good for her as it was for me? I haven’t doubted my abilities in bed since I lost my virginity in high school. God, what a fumbling mess that was. I’m embarrassed just thinking about it. I was 16 and had just made the football team as the second string quarterback. The girl’s name was Brooke, of course she was a cheerleader, and at the time the prettiest girl I had seen. I asked her out for a date and by the end of it we found ourselves parked in my dad’s truck in a deserted area of town. We started just by making out but it was her that wanted to go further. I didn’t even come prepared but she did. When I tried to take off her bra it snapped her back and instantly welted. I felt horrible and told her we didn’t have to do anything but she wasn’t ready to stop. Trying to take of my clothes in such a confined space was also a problem
“Leah?” I lightly knock on the door and it slowly creaks open. I step inside and look around but it’s empty. I shout her name as I go to the living room area of the suite, but she’s not in there either. When I go back to the bedroom I notice her all of her stuff is gone. What the fuck? She left.
* * *
I have no way of reaching Leah on Saturday or Sunday, so when Monday comes around I call her office. I need to know that she’s ok and that I didn’t overstep some sort of boundary. I realize as I dial the number (the number that I had to look up because I wasn’t about to call Scott directly), that I have been making myself crazy all weekend to check on a woman I barely even know. A woman, who ran out on me after a night of, what I remember to be, incredible sex. And I remember a lot. It was so incredible, once we started touching each other, that I feel like I instantly sobered. Like I knew that I wanted to be able to remember every second of it. Jesus. I feel like my head is spinning already when, after two rings, the receptionist picks up.
“Good Morning, Sanders and Smith Law Office. This is Kelly.” The slightly high pitched voice of the receptionist answers.
“Good Morning Kelly, may I speak with Ms. Collins please?” I ask, more gruffly than I intend to.
“I’m sorry, sir, but she is out of the office this week. Would you like her voicemail?”
Shit. No I don’t want her fucking voicemail. I’m really pissed now and honestly I’m not even sure why. It’s not Kelly’s fault that Leah ran off and left me going crazy with no way to contact her.
“Uhh, no thank you. Do you know if she will be checking her emails?”
I’m starting to feel like a desperate prick. I’m starting to panic and again, this is a feeling I don’t care for.
“Yes Mr. Cooper, she should be checking her emails while she’s out.”
Fuck. Of course they have caller ID, I don’t know what I was thinking. Kelly’s placating tone just confirms that I sound as crazy as I feel right now so I thank her and hang up. What the hell is wrong with me? So what if she’s out of the office this week. So what if she skipped out after a night of amazing sex. I’ve done that before too, so I can’t figure out why can’t not stop thinking about her. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been the one left behind. Even so, my behavior is starting to feel a bit irrational. But for some reason I need to know that she’s ok. I need to know that I didn’t take advantage of her in her inebriated state, so I sit down and send her a quick email. Well, not a quick e-mail. The three simple sentence that I manage to put together take me an insane amount of time to type up. It takes me even longer to work up the courage to send it.
Another unwelcome thought occurs to me just as I finally manage to hit send the send button, what if the sex wasn’t as good for her as it was for me? I haven’t doubted my abilities in bed since I lost my virginity in high school. God, what a fumbling mess that was. I’m embarrassed just thinking about it. I was 16 and had just made the football team as the second string quarterback. The girl’s name was Brooke, of course she was a cheerleader, and at the time the prettiest girl I had seen. I asked her out for a date and by the end of it we found ourselves parked in my dad’s truck in a deserted area of town. We started just by making out but it was her that wanted to go further. I didn’t even come prepared but she did. When I tried to take off her bra it snapped her back and instantly welted. I felt horrible and told her we didn’t have to do anything but she wasn’t ready to stop. Trying to take of my clothes in such a confined space was also a problem
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