Free Everyone's Dirty Little Secrets by Matthew Miles

mind at all.
     
    He thinks about Dodge because, well, he doesn’t want to have sex with Dodge.
     
    It’s like mowing your lawn.
     
    He always heard that sex lasts longer if you think about mowing your lawn.
     
    He had a sm all lawn that night, the night with the freshman on the fraternity couch.
     
    She probably didn’t even get the mower out of the garage.
     
    Chuck knows how pathetic he is, even why .
     
    But all the booze he’s been drinking, the Jagermeister and the wine, lets him s hake all that of f, lets him talk to French girl.
     
    Maybe the language barrier camouflages how weird he is.
     
    He smiles at her again.
     
    They see her friend walking toward them.
     
    His smile widens.
     
     
     
    *****
     
     
     
    Siobhan taps her foot at the door before ringing the bell.  Something is wrong.  Jaime said there was a soiree at Dressler’s.  But there are no other cars.
     
    An uneasy feeling, churning first in her stomach, creeps over her body.
     
    The same body she knows Dressler lusts after, gawks at and drools over, looks for excuses to br ush along, bump against, falls only short of groping whenever he gets the chance.
     
    She can take the attention, doesn’t mind the flattery that much .  He’s handsome, rich and c onfident - even has some charm.  Really, though, he’s mostly just juvenile, lacks cool, and comes off as too desperate.  The biggest turn-off of them all.  She entertains his clumsy advances because he is big money.  Nothing more, nothing less.
     
    But if this is a trick to get her up here alone, she’s going to give him hell for wasting her time.
     
    She starts to seriously fear this is a set-up - orchestrated by Dressler, maybe even with Jaime’s help.  A childish pretense, like Dressler thinks that since she’s all the way out, she’l l decide she might as well jump in the sack with him.
     
    Juvenile .
     
    She turns to leave, without ringing the bell, when the door opens.
     
    Dressler stands in the door grinning like some goon, gnashing his teeth, a tiny kimono barely stretched around him - probably a woman’s - a samurai sword in one hand, the doorknob in the other.
     
     
     
    *****
     
     
     
    Not all French girls are easy.  But one on a mission to have a stranger get her high, in a pair of Jessica Simpson cut-offs and over-exaggerated cowboy boot s, willing to throw he r friend in on the deal on sweat -soaked sheets in the red light district of Amsterdam , is.  So maybe he’s surprised, maybe he’s not, when he quickly find s himself being taken advantage of on a bunk bed in his hotel room - no bigger than a closet . 
     
    And not totally being taken advantage of the way he wants, though at least they give him the dignity of some of that.
     
    While Cowboy Boots knocks him on the bed and occupies him with kisses, her blonde friend unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants off without much ceremony.
     
    Which seems exciting at first until it’s clear that she’s only done this so she can rifle through his pockets, collecting his cash and drugs, with little attempt to hide what she’s doing.  At least her friend is still keeping him distracted, straddling his chest and pinning his arms back.  And while it might be simply to keep him from protesting, or struggling, he takes an unexpected pleasure in being restrained and robbed. 
     
    He’ll pay that price for this reward.
     
    The French girls must find this endearing because they don’t just bolt with his score.  They linger to enjoy it, spilling it across his chest to snort it , pausing to kiss each other in the ir native fashion, occasionally one or the other rewarding him with a kiss , or a care ss - enough to guarantee he does n’t protest too much as they burn their way through his complete stash.
     
    Chuck knows less about cocaine than he does about women, and the powder these chicks are dishing is as unpure as his soul and, eve n in his drunkenness , he’s somewhere between unsurprised a