Silver Flash: Yes He's My Ex 2: Slow Learner

It's Wednesday, time for another Silver Flash. This week's prompt was:


This hotel is $19.99 a night for a reason. You were there for reasons of your own … but not the kind everyone might think.


I offer you the next chapter in my series, Yes, He's My Ex. I call it




Slow Learner



Experience is a wonderful teacher.  It’s taught me that if I want to keep my sanity, I need to keep my front door locked at all times.  Otherwise, Sonny thinks he has an open invitation to walk through that door whenever he’s in the neighborhood and so inclined.  The hell he will is my attitude. What would happen if I were in the middle of a date or something?  Think how embarrassing that could be.  Hey, It could happen.  It does happen, on rare occasions.  I’m not a monk or anything.  I have needs too.

He did that once.  Walked in on me in the middle of a date.  I think the guy’s name was Kevin.  Or Brad.  I forget.  That’s not the point, anyway. There we were eating dinner.  Okay, it was a carry out pizza, but it counts, it’s food.   So what if I didn’t do the sweating over the stove thing?  I am capable.

So, we’re set up on the couch, my ultra comfortable blue couch, the one Sonny and I picked up off the street on  Bulk Trash Day.  All it really needed was a little TLC—a little upholstering by my mom, and it was good as new.  We’re watching some Arnold Schwarzenegger movie,  Eraser I think, chewing on cheesy Italian love food, and having a civilized conversation in between watching people get erased  – something that Sonny is totally incapable of, by the way – when in waltzes Sonny himself, like he owns the place,  carrying a twelve- pack of cold beer and wearing a shit-eating grin.  He plops his ass down on my sofa – never mind that the cushions still hold a Sonny-shaped imprint of that delectable derriere—and he helps himself to pizza and asks how we’re doing as he proceeds to dole out the beer.

Suddenly, the movie is forgotten, and the floodgates have been opened in entirely the wrong direction. I can’t seem to get a word in edgewise—I’ve become the Invisible Man. By the end of the evening, my date leaves – with Sonny.  ‘Nuff said.  See why he drives me crazy? Neither one of us saw or heard from Kevin/Brad again. Small loss.

I hear the rattle of the knob first, then the thump of Sonny clonking his head against the door.  He must have  expected it to open just because he wanted it to. Serves him right, idiota. I give him a minute to figure it out before I take pity on him and open the door.  He’s rubbing his temple, wearing a why did that just happen look.

“Hey Tim-tim,” he greets me, his momentary frown melting into a sweet smile.  Damn that man, anyway.

“Don’t call me that.”  My automatic response.  He has no beer in his hands today.  Or anything else that I can see.  “Can you find your way in or do I need to draw you a map?” I snark, walking away and taking a seat on what is still my sofa. I deliberately stretch my legs out so that I take up the entire space, and my thick white socked feet  are sitting on what was once Sonny’s favorite pillow – the one with the two cherubs on it.  Mine too.  He can take a chair.

But he doesn’t.

He simply picks up my legs as if they were breadsticks and slides beneath them.  Great.  Now I’m half on Sonny’s lap.  Not a good place to be.  I’m all too aware of his thighs, and I can’t help but picture them naked—with me between them.

Time to change the subject.  Or start one rather, before I find myself sliding inside of him and giving into him, no matter what he wants.

What does he want? Good place to start.  “Why are you here?”

He’s giving me that half-lidded sultry Sonny look I know only too well. Picking up one of my feet in his hand, he begins to rub it through the thick sock.  Damn him.

“No,” I quickly interject.  Before my second brain overrules my first.

“No what?” Look at him, pretending to be Mr. Innocent. Suddenly he raises his hips, fumbling in his pocket. My legs are pressed against his groin.  Damn.  I can feel his cock rising already, just like mine. Before I can reply, he has his wallet in hand, and is pulling out a photograph. He thrusts it at me—I’ve no choice but to take it.

It’s a picture of a sleazy motel, with me standing in front of a door marked 17, hood pulled down, trying to hide my face,  growling at the camera. Our first time at a motel.  I remember it well. Not because it was so good or anything.  Other reasons.  I scowl at the memory.

“I found this today,” Sonny burbles, oblivious to my mood.  “I was wondering if they were still that cheap, ya know?”

Is he for real?  I stare at him in open-mouthed amazement.  “I should hope the Department of Health’s got them shut down by now.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?  The hotel was $19.99 for a reason, Sonny.” To myself, I add, And you were there for reasons of your own… but not the kind everyone might think. How could I forget? He asked me to go ‘cause he’d gotten the room but his intended date was a no show.  So he called me.

“Oh.  I was thinking maybe we could go back there.  You know.  Relive old  memories?”  He tosses my foot aside before I have a chance to shake it loose from his warm grasp.  Suddenly he’s on top of me, his length on mine, his eyes burrowing into mine.

He wants to relive old memories of a night when he made me second choice because some himbo dumped him? What fucking nerve.  I see red at that moment, and I shove him off as hard as I can.  He drops like a sack of shit, onto his back.


Idiota.

Want more Silver Flash Fic? Check out these other Silver Flashers:

RJ Scott

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