One would think once we realise we've done something wrong, something stupid, or absolutely a brainless moronic action a sane person would never do, we'd stop immediately before things become worse. There's even this saying on how we shouldn't do the same mistake twice because that's just plain stupid. Guess I am one plain stupid human being because instead of stopping this idiotic act, I repeat the mistake again. After he came, the moment my mind registered what had happened, I jumped off him and rushed to the ensuite bathroom to clean myself with the one objective in mind that was to leave as soon as possible. I didn't know what to say or what to do, even what to think so I got out of the scene, hid in the bathroom, hoping I wouldn't have to say anything at all until I left that place: it would just be a quick fuck-and-go affair. But he joined me. He opened the bathroom door that I forgot to lock because all this while, I've never done that. I've never locked the bedroom or th

"I don't understand how a two Michelin star restaurant like this needs more than ten minutes to serve the appetiser. Like seriously, for a smaller portion compared to what we'd have at McDonald's, we pay more-"I immediately stop myself in the middle of the argument, or to be precise, from being a Karen when he arches one eyebrow up since he's the one who'll be paying for this meal so I shrug, "Fine, YOU are the one who's gonna pay so you have every right to choose where to eat but what I'm trying to say is, us, the customer, pay more for the same dish we can probably find at a mediocre restaurant, perhaps on a less fancy plate with a 'meh' deco but at least it won’t take this long. At McDonalds’s, it’s just five minutes then bam! You've got your order. But here, what? It’s fifteen minutes now? The cost at McDonalds’s or at those mediocre restaurants is like a fraction of what you'll be paying here. But we haven’t gotten our order. That doesn't sound fair, isn't it? For the money we'r

The week slowly passes by as I try my best to forget everything we did. Though having a sore pussy doesn’t help much, it’s a constant reminder how Luca has successfully fucked me good to the point I'm starting to question myself if we really should stop. I mean, best-friends-with-benefits can work too, no?The logical part of me, the one that contributed to my success of getting a Petroleum Engineering degree, screams no to that. A big fat bold no, all capital letters, with an exclamation mark at end. NO! It’s not a wise decision to dip my feet into an unfamiliar territory just because the sex is good. Luca and I, we are happy as friends, why would I need to ruin it as if there is no other men left in this world to tackle that pleasure department. Remember Christian? Because he’s still my sugar daddy slash boyfriend-by-contract since it was stipulated in writing I were to provide him the girlfriend-experience. Yeah the logical Sophie is right. Things will only get messy. And I don

I was about to enter my house when a sound comes from my tote bag, signalling somebody just sent a text message to me. I bet it's Luca, continuing where he left off because I didn't exactly listen to the entire thing. But you know what, your text will face the same fate like the previous ones- ignored! I refuse to read any of them, God knows he had proclaimed his love through text messages and without reading it, I went there. I fucking went there when I could've avoided all these things from happening if I just read them first! Dipping my hand into the bag, I reach out for my phone, curious if it's indeed another sappy speech from my ex-bestie. Yes, we're officially ex besties now. I've told him again and again five days ago but he still chose to cross the boundary so that's that. Though I'm curious to read those texts, including the one I just received. [Christian: See you in two hours, Cherie 😚]I am already boiling from the drama but things have definitely gone south the seco

"Are you having second thoughts?" Matt's enquiry makes me chuckle as I save the report I was typing, "Yeah yeah I'm finishing up. Go get Drew first. I'll see you at the meeting room." He is still standing in front of me so I lift my face while rushing to lock my laptop, "Yesss I promise I'll be there. Go! Get Drew! I'll meet you guys there." "Why can't we go get Drew together?" "Why can't you go get Drew alone?" He sighs, "Do I really have to get him? Can't he get himself there on his own?" We have two big bosses at the office; Estelle Evans is the one who's responsible on management while Dr Andrew Lincoln is the person we'd go to when it comes to technical stuff. All of us are aware that Drew (he prefers us calling him that rather than the formal Dr Lincoln) doesn't have a girlfriend despite his sexy British accent. It is not surprising, really, judging from how many hours he spent at work. I think this office is more of a home to him than his own place. Despite being a geni