Night Stands
I protested, languidly splashing some water in her general direction.
And she was a perv and she knew it. Meredith was the unabashed libertine within my circle of close work friends. The night before, as we noshed on sushi at a downtown restaurant, Meredith caught the eye of a swarthy Arab businessman. Or maybe he caught her eye. Knowing Meredith, it was usually a combination of both. Her current beau was apparently a Qatari something-or-other muckety muck, and Meredith had latched onto his good looks along with his swagger and hoped-for ability to shower her with totally impractical expensive gifts.
"I'm so jealous of you," I whined, as Meredith finished luridly describing the loud and acro
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