Addicted to Sin

by Monica James

  I wake the next morning, my body screaming at me for falling asleep at such an awkward angle. One half of me is sprawled out on the sofa, while the other half is on the floor. And I’ve just come to realize, I’m pantless. The top three buttons of my white shirt are also missing, as they became victim to Juliet’s inquisitive fingers.

  Memories from last night assault my now-sober brain, and I look down at my lap, the stickiness clinging to my crotch highlighting what a fucking idiot I am.

  Just as my body was collapsing into an exhausted heap after round three, I felt Juliet climb on top of me and fuck the living hell out of me until I forgot my own name. After that, I’m pretty sure I passed out, sticky and spent, and that’s where I have remained.

  Squinting with one eye closed, I see it’s just on 7 a.m. I wonder where Juliet is as I take in my surroundings. The small living room is elegantly decorated, and I take a moment to appreciate the stylish furnishings, as last night, the only thing I was appreciating was Juliet’s ass.

  I notice my pants are across the room, and Juliet’s fluff ball dog is currently using them for her bed. I wearily stand and moan, as my overworked muscles feel like they’ve been skinned from the bone. Shooing off Marcia or Macy, or whatever its name is, I tuck my crinkled shirt into my pants. I then decide to try to find Juliet because I feel stupid waiting out here.

  Not wanting to aimlessly wander around her apartment, I walk down the hallway in hopes the first room will reveal Juliet inside. I sneak a look inside, as I don’t want to invade her privacy, which is ridiculous, seeing as I didn’t mind violating her privacy last night.

  When I see that she’s not in there, I decide to take a look in the bathroom. However, that search is also fruitless. Deciding to freshen up, I try to tame my messy hair, but quickly give up and instead use the toilet, splash some water on my face, and gargle with some mouthwash, hoping to look and smell semi-human.

  There is another door down the hallway, but I decide to wait it out in the kitchen, as Juliet would have no doubt heard me moving around, alerting her to the fact I’m awake. However, thirty minutes later, I’m clawing at the walls, desperate for a shower, a couple of Advil, and a cup of coffee. But I feel rude leaving without at least seeing Juliet. After last night, the least I can do is wait, but then a thought hits me. What if she didn’t want me to wait? She would have surely left a note if she did, letting me know where she went. But as I scour the counter, I see there is no sign of a note.

  Suddenly feeling like a right royal dumbass, I reach for my discarded tie on the back of the sofa, say goodbye to the mutt, and then slam the door shut behind me. I feel like such a chump, sitting around for a woman who obviously doesn’t want to be found.

  As I push the elevator call button, I ignore the pressing thought that Juliet has just…fucked like a man.

  However, in this circumstance, I’m the damn woman, waiting for the man to magically appear after their blatant one-night stand, and not getting that it was just that. This is beyond embarrassing. I should feel relieved, but I’m not.

  Bolting out the elevator doors as soon as they slide open, I hang my head, partially as a way to hide my disheveled state, but for the most part, because I’m ashamed. This is my first walk of shame, and I’m going to ensure it’s my last.

  Not looking where I’m going, I charge straight into a wafer-thin frame, but quickly reach out to steady her arms before she tumbles to the ground.

  Looking down, I don’t know if I should bless, or curse the irony of life as I see Madison’s sparkling green eyes shine up at me in amusement.

  “We’ve gotta stop bumping into one another this way.” She smiles, tucking a curl of sweaty hair behind her ear.

  She looks damp, puffed and perfect. Her tight shorts and crop top reveal way too much milky white skin, and once again I find myself staring at her like a creepy old pervert. What is it about this girl that leaves me tongue-tied?

  “What are you doing here?” she asks when I remain silent.

  Her innocent question however, has me feeling like an even dirtier old man, but I coolly reply, “Just visiting a friend.”

  She looks down at my unkempt state, not at all believing my pathetic lie. But she nods, not questioning it. “Oh, cool. I was just coming back from a run. Not that I needed to clarify that.” She shuffles her sneaker-clad feet with a small smirk.

  I chuckle, and realize she’s just as tongue-tied as me.

  “What are you doing now?” she asks, biting her lower lip.

  “Um, nothing,” I reply. “Why?”

  “Well, I was just going to head upstairs for a quick shower then head out to grab a bite to eat. Would you like to come?”

  Totally ignoring her breakfast invitation, I ask, “You live here?” and I point above me.

  Madison smiles and nervously nods. “Yes. My stepfather owns the building, and with apartments costing a small fortune in New York, it makes sense to live here.”

  I whistle. “The entire building? Wow. I’m impressed.”

  But regardless of how impressed I am, there is no way in hell I’m going back upstairs. But I find myself really wanting to accept Madison’s invitation.

  She must be able to read my dilemma as she quickly says, “You know what, don’t worry about it. I can’t smell any worse than you do.” She bumps into me playfully, laughing at my pallid expression.

  Realizing she’s joking, I instantly relax and bump her back. “Well, Sporty Spice, for that comment, you’re buying.”

  * * *

  “Sporty Spice? Um, Dixon, you really showed your age then,” Madison teases as she drowns her waffles in syrup.

  We’re sitting in the smallest diner known to mankind, and to be honest, I didn’t even know it existed. But Madison promised the food was to die for and not to judge its inside by its outer appearance. I try not to read too much into that relevant comment, and rather focus on the fact that this 120-pound girl has enough food in front of her to feed a small starving nation. I have no idea where she puts it, as I highly doubt Madison is a puker.

  She senses me watching her and slowly raises her attentive eyes. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I reply with a smirk, focusing my attention on sipping my coffee.

  “This is why I run every morning,” she explains, adding more salt to her scrambled eggs.

  “Every morning? Damn, that’s commitment.”

  “I start class at nine, so I’m up early anyway,” she says with a shrug. “I may as well start my day off being healthy, because God knows, as it progresses I’m anything but.” She smirks, picking up her fork and knife, ready to dig into her waffles.

  The mention of class has me wondering what she does. “What do you study?” I ask, reaching for the cream cheese.

  “I’m at Columbia, studying nursing. Well, I just started a dual degree. Eventually, I would like to end up specializing in midwifery,” she replies, and takes a small bite of her sugary treat.

  I’m slightly taken aback, as I really hadn’t given much thought to her occupation. Now that I know what it is, I find myself being even more attracted to her as I know she’s got brains as well as beauty.

  “A dual degree? So, a Bachelor and a Master’s of Science?”

  “Yeah,” she replies with a coy nod.

  “That’s pretty incredible. A dual degree is a lot to take on. You must be a downright genius, or plain crazy,” I respond with a grin.

  Madison laughs, and the sound is absolutely wonderful. “Maybe a bit of both. So, how do you know it’s a lot of work?”

  I usually hate telling people what I do for work, as I get the same old “who’s the craziest person you’ve ever treated?” and “can you prescribe me some Valium?” each and every time. But with Madison, I know she’ll probably find what I do remotely interesting as we’re in similar fields.

  “I’m a psychiatrist,” I confess, hoping I don’t sound like a stick in the mud. “My specialized field is addiction.”

  Madison’s
eyes widen and she stops mid-bite, shaking her head. “Seriously?” she asks with an incredulous look.

  I don’t know whether I should be insulted or not, and it must show on my face as she quickly backtracks. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—that sounded so rude. I didn’t mean it like ‘seriously’ I don’t believe you. I meant it as ‘seriously, holy shit, that’s cool!’” she finishes, her eyes still wide. “I’m actually taking a crash course in psych. I figure it’ll help if I decide to pursue a different field of nursing down the road. So far however, I suck at it. You must be incredibly smart.”

  I internally breathe out a sigh of relief. “Well, thank you. Not a lot of people think being a shrink is cool. Or that I’m smart.” I smirk. “So I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Madison nods animatedly. “Hell yes, it’s a compliment, Dr. Dixon.”

  I laugh at her comment. “Just Dixon is fine.”

  “You don’t look like a doctor,” she randomly professes.

  “Once again, thank you?” I phrase it as a question, as I’m not sure what she means by that.

  She senses my confusion, and once again quickly clarifies. “I just meant…” Her devilish tongue suddenly darts out to lick away any fallen syrup, while she weighs up her next comment. “I just meant you’re so…young.”

  However, the slight pause has me wondering what she really meant to say. I’d like to think the word she really wanted to use was “hot,” but hey, one can dream.

  Playing it cool, I run my finger around the rim of my cup and smirk. “Don’t let this orderly state fool you,” I say, poking fun at my unruly appearance.

  Madison laughs, and I don’t fail to notice her gaze lingering on my face a little longer than usual. Could it be little Miss Madison is just as impressed by me as I am by her?

  This could get really, really interesting, or really, really ugly. It’ll all depend on how I decide to play it.

  “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” I innocently ask, taking a bite of my bagel.

  Madison looks to be deep in thought, but she shakes her head as if to clear it. “I’m twenty-three.”

  I was right. However, her young age just confirms what a vile old man I am, as all I’m visualizing is her tight, round, young ass and perky, perfect tits in the flesh. My eyes drop to her chest, and I scold myself for being so damn obvious, because thus far, I’ve been a total gentleman.

  As sad as this is, I’ve actually forgotten what it’s like to just enjoy the company of the opposite sex without thinking of her naked, or wonder what color panties she’s wearing. But with Madison, that’s exactly what’s happened. We’ve been sitting here for—Jesus, I’m not even sure how long—and not once have I thought about sex, or thought about her naked, which for me has got to be some kind of record.

  Her company alone was enough stimulation, and I haven’t felt this way since Lily. But just the thought of her ruins my pleasant morning, and I quickly push away my half-eaten bagel.

  “You okay?” she asks, and I raise my eyes to meet her gentle concern.

  “Yeah, fine,” I lie. I feel like a total sap for letting my ex get to me once again.

  Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “So, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who was the douchebag you were with the other night?”

  I really hope my question doesn’t freak her out because I need to know.

  “Oh, that was Tim.”

  “He’s your boyfriend?” I casually ask, watching her facial expressions.

  She surprises me when she laughs. “No way. We went on two dates, and apparently I’m the love of his life.”

  “Well, the way he was pawing you, he certainly doesn’t know how to treat the love of his life,” I utter, only just containing my anger.

  Madison nods, and as she lowers her eyes, I know I’ve struck a nerve. But I let it go and sip my coffee, while Madison demolishes the rest of her meal in silence. After she’s done eating, she puts her hands to her flat belly and groans.

  “You should have stopped me after my third bite,” she says with a smile, the awkwardness from earlier thankfully gone.

  “And miss you proclaiming your undying love for French toast? I don’t think so,” I reply, as I dodge a flying creamer.

  As I reach for the bill, Madison playfully slaps her hand over mine. I ignore the instant sparks, and raise my eyebrow, wondering what’s triggered her violence.

  “I’m paying,” she states, and sweet baby Jesus, I nearly rocket off my seat when I see her reach into her crop top.

  “What? With your breasts?” I choke out, barely containing my slobber.

  Madison bursts into fits of laughter as she produces a twenty.“No, with this.” She tosses the cash onto the counter.

  Oh right, of course—she stores money in her crop top, and uses her breasts as a purse. Dear Lord. I eye the twenty, envying it something wicked.

  Finally composing myself enough to construct a sentence, I protest. “No, please, I can’t let you pay. What kind of cheapskate do you think I am?” I dig into my pants pocket for my wallet, but it’s not there. I frantically double-check, but sadly come up empty.

  I’m not wearing my jacket, therefore, the only place it could be is…Juliet’s. Looks like I’ll have to swallow my pride and allow Madison to pay.

  “Next time, it’s on me,” I state—stupidly, for who says there’s going to be a next time?

  I quickly zip my lips, and try to appear nonchalant as we both silently stand and exit our booth.

  “I’d like that,” Madison says when we step outside.

  “Like what?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the blaring sun.

  “For there to be a…next time.”

  My heart unexpectedly kicks up the pace, and I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips. Out here in the huge concrete jungle of New York City, she appears so petite, so tiny, and I literally have to stop myself from reaching out and protecting her from the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps. I don’t know where this protectiveness has come from, and I stop myself from thinking crazy thoughts because they can’t be healthy for either one of us.

  I realize Madison is looking at me, waiting for me to comment on her confession, and I quickly put her out of her misery. “Me too.”

  “Yeah?” she says, the surprise clear in her voice.

  “Yeah,” I reply with a nod, admiring the way her cheeks turn a soft pink.

  I stand staring at her, and she stands staring back at me. The moment is simply perfect, but I suddenly realize she’s looking at me because she wants me to stop being a whimsical pussy and ask for her number.

  Patting at my empty pockets, I realize I’ve also left my cell under Juliet’s sofa, no doubt. “I don’t have my phone on me.” Leering forward and pretending to look down her top, I ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have anything else hidden in there?”

  Madison surprises me by cheekily throwing back, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” and winks, while I almost gag on my tongue.

  “So, what do you suggest we do?”

  Madison smiles, and the vision is simply superb. “Well, you know where I work. How ’bout you come in tonight? I start my shift at seven,” she casually says.

  “Okay, I think I can manage that.”

  Madison happily nods and then, this is when that awkward situation occurs. You know, where two people who are attracted to one another don’t know whether to hug, kiss, shake hands or wave to bid each other farewell.

  I can see that Madison is also torn on what the right protocol here is by the way she’s biting her bottom lip, and subtly looking at me to make the first move. But the fact I can still smell Juliet on me has me shying away from hugging her. There’s no way I can kiss her for obvious reasons, and shaking hands or waving just feels so detached, like we’re strangers. So like an utter moron, I raise my fist and watch as Madison looks at it confused.

  I too look at it, cursing my stupidity, but now that I’ve put it out there, I
have no other choice but to follow through before I look like a complete douche.

  However, Madison stuns me as she slowly dodges my raised fist, not interested in fist bumping with me, and stands on tippy toes to kiss my stubbled cheek. The minute she invades my personal space, my body sings, drowning in her vanilla scent.

  “I’ll catch ya later, Dixon,” she says, pulling away way too quickly, and I nod, dropping my fist.

  “Bye, Madison,” I reply, and watch as the most amazing girl walks away from me, hoping it’s not my last image of her.

  * * *

  Thank Christ I somehow managed to not lose my key, and the moment I get home, I have a long shower and fall face first onto my bed, not even bothering to dress. The only thing that wakes me is a loud, unrelenting knock on my door. Moaning and attempting to clear the fog from my brain, I turn to my right and see that my bedside clock reads 6:27 p.m.

  Once the perpetrator makes it clear they’re not going away, and their knocking gets louder, I give in and throw on a pair of sweats. I don’t even bother with a T-shirt because whoever this person is, they’re most definitely not staying.

  “What?” I bark as I open the door, but nearly fall flat on my face when I see Juliet standing before me.

  It takes me a moment to fire on all four cylinders, but once I do, I coolly question, “What are you doing here?”

  Juliet simply grins and holds up my wallet and phone, not needing to explain anything further.

  The fact she went through my wallet to find my address feels like a slight invasion of privacy, but I really should be a little more grateful that she made the trip down here. But this feels too personal, too close to home—literally. A woman hasn’t set foot inside my home since Lily, but the way Juliet is currently looking at me, she wants to change that.

  “So, are you going to invite me in? Or am I going to have to blow you in the hallway?”

  If not for my acute hearing, I would say I misheard her, but I know there’s no mistaking her intentions as her eyes rake down my body, stopping at my ribs and focusing on my tattoo.

  “‘We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love,’” she says, reading my Freud-and Lily-inspired tattoo. “Well, well, Dr. Mathews, I would have never thought.”