I’m Alex. Thirty-one. Numbers guy. The kind of man who color-codes his calendar and feels mildly anxious if the spice rack isn’t alphabetized. s*x had always been… polite. Considerate. Missionary with good eye contact, maybe a little hair-pulling if she asked first. Consent checklists in my head before I even touched skin.
That Friday night I brought Sarah home.
She was exactly my type on paper: soft-spoken, smart, wore glasses when she read menus, laughed at my dry accounting jokes. Navy sundress. Bare legs. Smelled like vanilla and bergamot. We didn’t even make it through one full drink at the bar before we were kissing in the hallway outside my apartment.
Inside, everything started gentle.
I kissed her slow. Unzipped her dress like I was unwrapping something fragile. She shivered wh
