Even if I did find a girl to get me going, I’d still have to go home and handle myself or go to bed aching. Nothing satisfies anymore. The perfect shade of golden brown flashes in my mind, and if I wasn’t keenly aware of where I am, I’d swear I could smell a very specific hint of vanilla. A spicy, baggy-sweater-wearing kind. I swallow a frustrated sigh, my eyes narrowing in on nothing. I need to get a fucking grip.
