Am I being crazy and vain if I believe I look beautiful in this? In the mirror above the sink, I studied my appearance. The alcohol and the tremendous heat I was feeling had turned my cheeks crimson, and my black hair was ruffled from our time together in his bed. I could see the small black circles of my nipples through the thin fabric of my shirt if I gazed at them long enough. My sexuality just gushed out of me. This was very inspiring.
I poured myself another glass of wine and secretly hoped I'd receive a text from him soon as I grinned to myself. To relax, I returned to his bed, poured myself another glass of wine, and browsed aimlessly through Instagram.
Either I was bored or the surroundings were distracting, but I found it difficult to concentrate for very long. Itching had returned. In a short length of time, my dreadful yearning for Carl ballooned, and my thoughts returned to my previous fantasy.