Todd opened his eyes and squinted in the dim light. He groaned as his head pounded a bass beat.
"Shit," he muttered, turning his head gingerly to the side. A blond tangle of hair separated itself from his arm. Todd winced in pain as the hair fell from a face too young to be sleeping next him. Red lipstick stained the corners of her mouth while sky blue eyes peered from rings of black.
"Sorry," she whispered, holding the sheet tight as she eased away.
Todd leaned over the side of the bed and snagged a bottle of Gatorade under his bed. He sat up, drinking it in gulps while eying the girl dispassionately. "Where are you going?" he said, lowering the bottle at the sight of her wiggling into her jeans.
"I have a class," she said, not meeting his eyes.
Liar. He wasn't surprised. If he knew one thing, he knew all women were liars. Even the one he'd married. She'd promised to love him in sickness and in health and everyone knew alcoholism was a sickness. They'd drilled it in his head at that AA meeting.
"Be late." He watched her snap on her bra. She was such a tease. What was her name again?
"I can't. I have a test today." She bent down and fished her shoes out from under the bench at the foot of the bed. Sitting, she put them on, looking at him over her shoulder. "You can call me later," she said coyly.
"Sounds good. Wear those jeans. I like the way they make your ass look."
She giggled. How old was she? Standing up, she leaned down to kiss him. He gripped her hair in one hand while sweeping the other over her breasts. Moaning, she put one knee on the bed. A surge of triumph battled with desire. One more time and he'd send her on her way.
He doubted he'd call.
This was a fictional post from Hidden Hollow based on the prompt from Write on Edge to write from the viewpoint of the sex you don't normally write. In my case, that would be the male viewpoint.
I tried to use Nancy's tips when she wrote about noticing what men noticed. Todd's a total jerk, but one thing he'd notice is a young girl in tight jeans. I'm not super comfortable writing men and I'm even more uncomfortable writing about jerks. Mostly because I'm always trying to show motivation. Which causes sympathy. How many of you hated Honey at first and then loved her?
If you want to read more Hidden Hollow, just click on Fictional Mandyland. I've got a pretty solid story going there. Might have to do something about that.