It’s just sex…

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is The boss’s dinner…

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God, this is so fucked up, she said. I can’t see you anymore.

I can’t not see you, he said. Really. I fucking can’t not see you.

But what if…?

What if I don’t see you? That would be worse.

She nodded. It was true. That would be worse.

Don’t say things like that again.

But she did, every time they met. And then she fucked him. Sadly, regretfully. Each time believing it was the last time. That she’d be strong.

You’ve messed with my head, she said when she saw him again. I’m fucking broken and it’s your fault.

He shrugged. Neither of them touched their food. She chased a scallop round her plate. The hand that held her fork was shaking.

You’re worse than cigarettes.

But I smell better, he said.

How very him. Bad jokes at bad moments. If only she could stub him out and forget about him.

She didn’t even really like him.

It’s just sex. Neither of us need this.

She was lying, so he didn’t answer.

He paid the bill and they left the restaurant together. For another fuck that wouldn’t be the last.

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