18

"Only my Ex calls me that," she said, heading towards the door. She peeked out, checking how far away Sabrina was, then looked back at you. Her smirk, usually a firm fixture on her face, had returned. "You wouldn't want to be my next Ex, would you? Because I'm sure we'd have a bunch of fun, but I'm a real bitch during a breakup."

I laughed and shrugged. "I don't know, Gemma. No risk, no reward, and you're definitely the kind of woman who is worth risking it for."

"You think?" she asked. "What would Sabrina think about that?"

"I think I still have a lot to learn about both of you," you said. "It's been a surprising day."

"Same," Gemma said. "Definitely same."

And she left.

***********

Home, or as much as you could think of it like that. You had managed to find a room to let for the summer, and two of the other three roommates were out on their own internships, leaving you with Mosche. He was nice enough, just very 'New York Jew' - curly brown poof of an afro, a nasaly way of talking about himself deprecatingly, and a social awkwardness that reminded you of some of the kids you'd grown up with that had to spend time going to Hebrew school.

Suffice to say, you did not want to attend Mosche's latest Open Mic night. Because of course he had a dream of becoming a standup comic.

"Alright, well man, I'm gonna head out of here in a few," he said, slowly pulling on his coat near the front door of the apartment. "You sure you don't want to come out? There's supposed to be a bachelorette party in the club tonight, and I could definitely use a wingman to make me look good."

"Man, I'm totally wiped out," you said from the couch. You were already in your loose sweatpants and an old high school athletics t-shirt. "But hey, you're the comic. Shouldn't you be wingmanning me at the comedy club?"

"Hah, yeah," he said. "I guess. But you know me, man. All thumbs."

What does he even mean by that? you wondered, but let it go.

"Well, break a leg tonight, dude," you said. "You'll get 'em this time."

"Let's hope so," he said, opening the front door.

It took another three minutes for Mosche to step out the door, and then actually close it. There was a part of you that felt bad - he was like a little puppy that just wanted a friend. There was another, much larger part that was screaming at him from inside your head Dear god, just leave already!

Any other night in the last four weeks since you moved in, you would have been game to tag along with him. You'd done so several times already, and had been pleasantly surprised to find out Mosche didn't entirely suck at stand-up, and there were definitely much worse comics out there.

No, the reason you were screaming at him internally was because you wanted the freedom to jerk off without anyone else in the apartment.

Five minutes after Moshe was gone, and likely not to come back, you were set up in front of the TV, your phone ready to cast to it and show Sabrina in all her fullscreen glory, when a text came in.

Sabrina: So are you already satisfied tonight?

You snorted, shaking your head at the reference to your earlier conversation.

You: Was just about to decide what I should watch, if I'm being honest. How was tanning?

The text bubbles showing that she was replying popped up, so you waited, but then they disappeared. You were about to go back to your search when your phone started ringing - Sabrina calling you on FaceTime.

You accepted the call, and after a quick buffering you saw that she was holding her phone as she lay on her side. From the lighting she was clearly outside, and you realized that she was wearing your sunglasses that you hadn't gotten back from her.

"Hey John," she grinned. "I figured this was easier than typing."

"Hey yourself, gorgeous," you said. "You look good in those sunglasses, but I think I've seen them somewhere else before."

Sabrina's grin turned into a smirk as she touched them, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she got playful. "They really are Daddy-hot, aren't they? I don't know if I can give them back."

"Eugh, really?" you asked. "'Daddy' hot?"

"It's an internet thing, John. Not a fan?"

"It's just a very different impression than what I want to see you as," you said.

She pursed her lips. "Oh, so maybe you want me to call you daddy?"

You chuckled and shrugged. "Feels better than me calling you it."

"Well, daddy," she said, emphasizing it so extremely that it was silly. "Maybe this will help." Sabrina pulled back the camera and showed you her body. She was laying out on a deck chair, which was crammed into a small apartment balcony, and the sun was just peaking through to bathe her in golden light. Sabrina was wearing a small black bikini, the cups of the bra firmly hugging her small breasts while leaving a nice cleavage and the bottoms riding low on her hips, rolled down so that you could actually see the top of her pubic hair peeking out. "I don't really tan all that well, so I need to be careful. You think this will work?"

"God damn, Sabrina," you said. "You look- wow."

She giggled and shifted, laying down more on her stomach and rotating the camera to show you a shot of her ass. The back of the bikini was a string, her two small but pronounced cheeks wiggling and bouncing as she jostled her legs. "How about this view?"

"You are too fucking much," you said.

"You know you left me hanging, right?" Sabrina said, bring the camera back around to her face. Then she shifted a bit more, rolling on to her back and lifting it higher so her lovely face and her chest were in view. "Your fingers felt great, by the way. But damn you got me humming with those lips of yours."

"Did I?" you asked. You were hard now, watching her tease you all over again. The brief thought of how many other guys were out there, who would kill for this sort of situation with Sabrina, rattling in your mind.

"Yes. You really found my button and pushed it," she said. "I had to check if you gave me a hickey when I got home. Part of me wanted you to, but it would be a pain to cover up."