Amy Yamada - Bedtime Eyes

This was the moment Coco enjoyed most after spending the night with a man for the first time: when you sober up the next morning and you’re over the initial excitement. It’s only then that you start weighing up whether you can actually get along with each other or not. And it is only when you are released from the extraordinary power of sexual curiosity that you can begin to properly appreciate each other’s body.

Coco looked herself over in the mirror. She brushed her hair back from her face with satisfaction. Yesterday’s makeup was almost completely gone, but she knew she was at the age when she looked most attractive without it. She buried her face in the pillow, and some of the lipstick smeared on it from the night before came off on her cheek.

She posed herself seductively on the bed and waited for Rick, but Rick didn’t appear, and after a while she started to get a cramp in her leg because of the unnatural position she was in. Eventually she got tired of waiting, and crept out of bed and peered around the door, only to find Rick standing in front of the washing machine, a glass of gin in his hand, watching his clothes spin round and round in the drum.

Coco let her breath out in exasperation. She considered herself to be an expert when it came to men, but there was no chapter in her version of the Sex Bible titled “Guys Who Wash Their Clothes After Sex.” The way it was supposed to be was that the first time she spent the night with a man, they would wake up the next morning, get some breakfast, and then he’d drag her back to bed again, staring deeply into her eyes as they made love, gently whispering his undying devotion and corny phrases about how they were made for each other.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked.

Rick dropped his glass with a startled yelp and turned around to face her.

“Did I surprise you?”

“A little…” he said hesitantly,

“Do you enjoy doing the laundry?” she asked, as she stooped to pick up the pieces of broken glass from the floor.

“Sure, a-a-a little…”

Rick was stuck for words, and for some reason, he reached in the washing machine, pulled out his wet shirts, and started wringing them out by hand.

Maybe he’s embarrassed, she thought to herself. How old had he said he was? With an eleven-year-old kid, he must surely be in his late thirties at least. So what could be wrong with him? It was too late to start being embarrassed after they’d already slept together.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand and nodding toward the bedroom door. She led him into the bedroom and slipped under the covers.

Rick closed the window blinds and started taking off his clothes.

His hands were cold from the wet shirts, and as he began to caress the back of her neck, she could still smell the soap on them. Rick had been out of bed for a while so his body was colder than hers, but as he began to warm up, he gradually started to conform to her Sex Bible rules.

Rick and Coco had met each other for the first time the night before While their friends had been partying wildly in the club, the two of them had spent most of the evening talking quietly together and ex-changing intense looks.

Rick paid her lots of compliments, but that was nothing new to Coco—she was used to guys coming on to her. W h e n he left her at the bar to go to the toilet, he kept turning back as if worried that someone else might move in on her in his absence, and that was what attracted her to him. When he got back moments later—he had obviously rushed—he looked so pleased to find she was still there waiting for him.

Drinking seemed to ease Rick s nerves. Coco, on the other hand, was quite at home with this kind of situation; it was such a normal part of her everyday life that she even began to let her mind wander a little, wondering what sort of tired line he would come up with to try to get her back to his place when it was time to go home. But it was more out of curiosity than any sense of excitement. She was just taking it easy, savoring the start of yet another new love affair.

Rick drank like it was going out of fashion, and Coco found herself keeping pace with him. She used the opportunity to find out more about him so she could decide whether or not she was going to spend the night with him. While teasing and joking, she skillfully slipped in all sorts of personal questions.

Coco soon discovered that Rick wasn’t married. Well, that was a good thing, because she had no desire to sleep with married men. Not because she didn’t want to be a home wrecker: Coco just wasn’t interested in other women’s castoffs. Married men were so unimaginative in bed. There was no passion. It was always just sex by the numbers. Nothing made her skin crawl like a married man telling her he “couldn’t live without her.”

Rick could tell that Coco liked him and it was obvious that he was thrilled to have such a beautiful woman all to himself. And that made Coco feel good, too.

As they talked, he tickled her now and then, and she squealed excitedly like a little girl.

“If you come back to my place,” he told her, “I’ll tickle you from head to toe—with my tongue.”

That gave her some idea of the kind of lover he might be, and at that point she decided she would probably spend the night with him.

Then, when he tried telling her he was younger than he really was, she could tell it was a lie, and it put her off. It was the sort of thing she would expect from a woman, not a man, so she changed her mind. She didn’t want to waste her time. Experience had taught her that there was no point in starting an affair if it wasn’t going to be good.

Let’s get out of here and go to my place,” he finally said, as if the matter had already been settled.

“Maybe next time,” she replied flatly.

His face fell and he looked down at the floor, dejected. Coco could see that he was crushed, and she felt bad. She tried to console him by telling him that she didn’t sleep with anyone on the first date.

Yeah, right, she thought to herself.

But Rick fell for it.

He seemed to resign himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be taking her home, and dropped the topic of sex and started talking about his son, Jesse, instead.

With his head to one side and an almost embarrassed look on his face, Rick told her how Jesse was the most handsome boy in the world, and that they were more like friends than father and son.

That piqued Coco’s interest. She didn’t know any kids. Her knowledge of men was almost complete, but she knew nothing at all about young boys. She wanted to see Jesse so much that she suddenly decided it would probably be worth sleeping with Rick just to get the chance.

When she stood up, saying, “Okay, let’s go to your place,” Rick couldn’t believe his luck. After a moment of surprised silence, he leapt up out of his seat and hugged her.

“Thank you,” he blurted. He had no idea why she had changed her mind.

As soon as Coco walked through the door of his apartment, she told Rick she would like to meet Jesse. He was delighted. He opened Jesse’s bedroom door noiselessly and beckoned her silently.

“Isn’t he a good-looking boy?”

She didn’t know what to say. He had Asian features, and looked like a monkey to her.

“Yeah, mmm…” she replied, disappointed. She couldn’t tell Rick what she was really thinking, and of course she didn’t mention the part about the monkey.

She could tell that Rick was plastered just by the way he poured her drink. She watched him absently, deeply disappointed with the boy.

Sex with Rick turned out to be anything but disappointing, however, and she soon forgot all about Jesse sleeping in the next room and gave herself to the moment.

Rick spoiled Coco. He treated her like she was a little girl and she loved it. She was tired of the kind of love-hate relationships she’d always had with men when the relationship was equal.