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“Fuck me with that big cock, I’m such a slut.” she said with her lips parted just slightly. When she caught that look in the mirror, she burst into laughter and thusly spitting minty foam onto her reflection. She rolled her eyes and continued to brush her teeth. She spit the gob of peppermint foam into the basin and once again raised her face to the mirror and tried again. This time, with her head turned and tilted just slightly.

“Let me suck that big, fat…jeezus, I can’t do this.” she wiped her mouth with the washcloth hanging from the ring and stood before herself in the mirror; her hair wrapped in a towel turban.

Dr. Sloan Elliott, DDS, would be going on her first date since her divorce. She called it a date but it was, in her eyes, a hook up…a booty call, or whatever young women ten years younger than her would be calling a meeting with someone she met on a dating app with the intent of having sex.

She opened her robe a little and surveyed as the lime green terrycloth made a V across her chest that would probably look better than the slutty basic black she had picked out for the pendik escort night. She opened it further, exposing her breasts and cupping her hands over each, she tried again to look sexy for herself. “Would you like to have sex?” she thought she sounded like a robot.

“Have the sex?” she winced.

“Wanna fuck?” Though this last one sounded most like her.

She scoffed at the silliness of her own actions and looked at the last text message she received from him during their forward conversation that negotiated the evening’s expectations.

“Oh, and I like my partners to talk dirty.” he added a little winking devil emoji next to it. Her most clever response was, “Oh yeah, baby…I can do that.”

She most certainly could not do that. At least not on command. It made her feel so uncomfortable. Even when she was married, she never really felt she could let herself go verbally. Pregnant at almost seventeen, married right out of high-school, she had put her mind to “turning her life around” and focused her energy on being a good mom, a good student…and if energy reserves permitted, a maltepe escort good wife. They were young, impatient and both career focused and the marriage turned into a legal cohabitation. Eventually, they separated not long after she completed dental school. They divorced three days before her 30th birthday.

She pulled the towel from her head and revealed a wet, thatched roof of red hair that she hoped to smooth before getting dressed. She let the robe fall from her shoulder and turned her back to the mirror and looked back over the exposed shoulder and gave a wink. “There, that’s not bad.” she thought she looked flirty and cute. And then with a flourish, she pulled the robe back exposing her bum. She thrust her hip to the side and swung to smack her own ass (as she’d seen sexier women do in movies ) but her hand hit the counter top with a loud thud. The shock hurt more than actual pain but it inspired a cloud of genuine obscenities that could be heard throughout the home.

“Mom, are you ok?” Clio called from the other room, her voice muffled by the thin walls of the rented suburban kartal escort home. Sloan heard her open the door to her bedroom and then knock at the master bathroom door. “Did you fall and die?”

“No honey.” Sloan held her hand in her mouth and she caught the comic sight of her writhing painfully with her robe falling off. “I just, uh…smacked my hand on the counter.” She wrapped up quickly and opened the door. “I’m almost ready.”

“You look ready for bed. Are you SURE you want to do this…you got ready for Grandpa’s funeral faster than this.” Sloan looked at Clio standing cross armed with an extra coat of sass across her face.

“Gimme ten minutes, Clio. Then to Rachel’s.”

“Can we stop by Starbucks…I have my own money?”

“Yes…lots of sugar and caffeine before you go to your friends…get Mrs. Jenkins back for that crack about how you dress.” Clio’s mother winked at her. “Now leave me alone so I can finish.” Clio exited quickly.

Dr. Sloan Elliott turned again to look at herself in the mirror and opened her robe surveying herself once more. “Well, one thing is, I didn’t shave my twat before grandpa’s funeral, Clio.” she said to herself as she put her foot up on the counter top to survey the tiny scratch on her labia majora left by the razor and she let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, maybe he’ll keep the lights off.”

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