The fast track

 

Okay, so Iím a womanizer.

That doesnít make me a bad person, does it?

Everybody knows I like to love em and leave em.

Or should know it since I come to this place as a regular and all the girls know me.

and what I do.

Sure, from time to time a new girl comes in, and maybe she hasnít taken the lay of the land.

Is that my fault?

This is what happened the other night when this blonde bomb shell walked in.

Every guyís head turned as she passed.

From the look of her, I thought she was just like me.

A player, you know.

She didnít look underage.

Hell, she had ID to get passed the doorman, and the bartender served her drinks.

So I thought everything is all right.

I didnít know she was a virgin until we got to the motel.

And it didnít take much to get her there neither.

She fell for my line faster than any broad I ever met.

I guess that should have said something to me if I was paying attention to warning signs.

But I had a few too many drinks that night and hadnít had sex for a few days.

So I really wanted it.

So I put everything on the fast track.

She seemed to like it.

Maybe too much.

Then she went and spoiled it all by telling me afterwards that she ďlovedĒ me.

You donít go saying anything like that after what we did.

Believe me, I got out of there quick.

I donít believe in attachments, especially when Iíve just met the broad.

I never thought she would take it so hard.

I never saw the bottle of pills.

I didnít even hear about the thing until I got back here tonight,

and believe me, mister, I didnít know she was your sister.




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