Parties in revealing swimsuits that you guarantee are going to lead to some hookups.While you're happy for your friends, you begin to wonder why you can't have at least a taste of that life. You get up out of bed, and look over your solitary room. There's nothing really of "you" in it. Fuck, you don't even know what "you" is at this point. Everything, from this college, to your clothes, to your books, phone, have all been the smart and prudent decision someone else has made. Unfortunately, this applies to you as well, looking in the full body mirror. Whoever convinced you that your hourglass figure was best hidden in conservative wear, and only show it off to your future husband, decades from now when nobody wants to see you naked anymore, needs to get a medal for salesmanship."Fuck!" You groan to yourself, coarsing your hands through your long hair. "Why is my life so bland?" You ask rhetorically, because you know the answer. A higher calling, at least thats what you were told.. He said that I would probably fit right in so I paid the deposit and moved in that day. For the first few weeks, we hardly ever saw each other. I would come home from work at around 4:30am and go right to sleep. He would leave the apartment to go to work at 6am. I found out that he never cooked and always went out after work to eat and drink. By the time he got home I was out working. This arrangement seemed to work out fine. The only time we saw each other, if at all, was on the weekend. One Saturday night, he (his name was Ed)asked me what I was going to be doing that night. I told him that I would probably stay at home and watch a movie and go to bed early. I said, "How about you?"He said, "I'm going out to get laid. I'm so friggin' horny I can't stand it." I said I know the feeling. He left the apartment around 8pm and I made myself a strong Margarita and drew a nice hot bath. I had a nice long soak in the tub and shaved my body hair. Afterwards, I slipped on a nice.
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