Page 33 of Size Queen

12

Damon

Iwanted to spend my Saturday night the same way I’ve been spending the last several nights: having incredibly hot sex with Noelle. I didn’t care at whose place it happened; I was simply desperate and longing to give her more of my loads.

I called her twice, texted her twice… any more than that and it would reveal my desperation in an unflattering way. I don’t want to ruin such a good thing, so I play it cool.

If Kace knew how dumb you were acting over a chick, you wouldn’t hear the end of it, I think to myself. Don’t text her again. Don’t drink and then text her. There’s no justification. Be a man.

Instead of a night in with Noelle, I decide to make it a night out with the guys. I want to get the fuck out of Miami for a short while, and my boys are all on the same page. We set out to Tampa as the sun sets beside us.

I want it to be a night out with the guys, yet thoughts of her—of Noelle—don’t stop coming. I pour shots and mixed drinks down my gullet like I’m dying of thirst. I keep hoping that my inhibitions will bend just enough that I’ll be able to forgive myself and hit Noelle up again…

Kace and I are settling in at the Ice Palace, a favorite club of mine that serves excellent drinks guaranteed to fuck you up. I see a Rolling Head here and there, but for the most part the boys are all hopping around looking for women. Downtown Tampa is always guaranteed to get you fucked, too.

Even with all the beautiful women that keep coming up to us and talking to me in particular, it doesn’t matter. I easily could have had my way with any number of the Tampa beauties, but I’m stuck in my head. The only woman I have my mind and heart set on is the one I’ve already had many times only days before.

I don’t just think about the delicious qualities she possesses simply by having the body and confidence she has. I want to hold her, and not just in a way that would eventually lead to sex. I would give anything for her to just suddenly walk into the club. I know that’s impossible, though.

“You okay, bro?” Kace asks through the club’s blaring music.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kace scoots closer to me before replying a little softer, “You seem off.”

“I’m probably stressed.”

“Hey, we’re all stressed, man,” he says. “That’s why we’re in downtown Tampa. Destressing involves getting hot tail, brother. These honeys keep coming by and you’re barely even acknowledging their existence. What’s up?”

“I have a lot on my mind,” I say defensively. “Word is spreading that someone fromourclub started the fire at their clubhouse. We all know that we’re innocent, but it’s not going to matter. It doesn’t matter what’s true; it’s about what can be proven to a jury. God knows if their cameras were working and what they picked up before the place got torched.”

“They deserved that and more,” Kace says bitterly.

“I agree, but we’ve got to keep our heads on straight. We’re being watched by more than just Hell-Snakes. We’re definitely being watched by police.”

“Right now?” Kace sounds anxious.

“No—or, well, I’m not sure,” I say. “I’ve seen them in town, though. They’re really fucking stupid. They think they’re being really sneaky and covert, but their windows are barely tinted, and they do nothing but sit in their cars for hours at a time across from the clubhouse.”

“I’ve heard about the cops,” says Kace. “I have to admit, I’ve never noticed them myself. I must be drinking too much.”

“And smoking too much.”

“You must be having too much sex,” he surmises. “I don’t understand why you’re not even talking to any of the girls that have been sitting with us.”

“There’ve been girls sitting down with us?”

“It’s Noelle, isn’t it?” Kace says with a smirk. “Sabrina’s BFF.”

“Sabrina?”

“The girl I hooked up with when you were fucking Noelle,” he replies. “But that’s it, right? Have you two been fucking a lot since that one night we ran into the girls out?”

“Such language, Kace,” I say disapprovingly.

“Stop dodging my question! What’s been going on with you?”

“I’ve really been into her, man,” I concede.