There was someone in my bed again. I groaned. That meant I’d caved in and taken E at that club. Every time I take E, I end up taking some stranger home. Last month, I also took home syphilis. I cracked open an eye, wincing, to see what sort of creature had fucked my sore ass last night ….and ended up just staring at a wall of muscle. A six pack…no, an eight pack? maybe? He had a torso like you’d see on a statute in a museum, something carved out of flesh colored marble. I gawked, until a deep buttery voice said, “Hey you awake?”

I looked up into the face of the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Solid, cut jaw, aqualine nose, high cheekbones, perfectly shaped cinnamon eyebrows over bright tea colored eyes. I worked my own jaw, unable to form sentences. “I um – I…yeah.”
“Good, how do you feel?”
Horny? Dizzy? Baffled? “Like there’s cotton in my head…” I sat up, rubbing my temples. It was then I realized I was not in my room and I froze, looking around. “Shit, where am I? How hard did I party last night? Why do I always take E…whywhywhy…”
Mr. Sexy sat up next to me and said, “It wasn’t E. Someone put GHB in your drink last night. I punched the guy in the face, got him arrested, then took you home.”
I stare. “I didn’t pick you up – you rescued me?”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning sheepishly.
“Then why is my ass sore, did he- did you -”
“No no, you uh, tried to sit down on some steps outside my apartment building and ending up dropping yourself right on your tailbone.”
I search his face, seeking any signs of him fibbing, but found only honestly…and a cute smile. “Well thank you Mr….”
“Kennington.”
“…Wait, of Kennington Law Group?”
“That’s the one,” he sighs.
“What’s your first name?”
“Rutherford.” He cringes, “Most people call me Rudy.”
I chuckle, “You don’t really like that either?”
“No.”
“What about Ken?”
He pauses, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair, “Yeah, Ken’s alright.”
“Well Ken, thank you for rescuing me. A true gentleman. If I may, I’d like to reward you, go home with a purposely sore ass,” I offered, placing a hand on his thigh.
His eyebrow goes up, and he chews on his lip. Despite his half hard-on under the sheets, he replies, “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea, you could blackmail me something….being semi famous makes me paranoid. I wish though, I haven’t gotten laid in months.”
“Fine.” I look around and find a notepad and pen in the night stand drawer. In hasty font I scribble: ‘I give my consent to let R. Kennington fuck my brains out,’ and scribbled my signature. “There.”
Ken takes it, looking bemused. “Well, no one can argue with this. Alright, let’s get some fluids into you, and some food, and then you can reward me?”
“Mmm,” I nibble his shoulder, grazing a hand over his defined chest, “Not sure if I can wait…”
He reaches behind me and squeezes my ass, “You will wait, I don’t want you passing out on me.”
A thrill ran through me. “Yes sir,” I purr.
He grins. I can tell he likes that. I can tell he likes me. The only downside to the three hours of incredible, masculine sex we had was that I couldn’t tell anyone about my catch afterwards. When I saw my friends again, I had to make up a fake story, about E and a one night stand, all while Ken’s phone number lingered in my pocket. My pocket, where all the condoms were, now empty.

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Text is fictional.