To my wonderful reviewers- thank you For the 1,000+ of you that are reading this story- thank you 2! I'd love to hear what you guys think! There will be one more chapter after this one…and nowww Chapter 7!
"What happened to you in there?" Mark asks me, concerned once I've made my way back out to him. "I was going to come in after you, but I thought that might be a little forward on a first date..." He is way too nice for me. Especially when I just fucked Cartman in the bathroom while Mark sat here and waited patiently for me. I am a terrible, terrible person.
"Mark I am really really sorry. You've been so nice tonight but it is just way too soon for me. I am way way too hung up on my ex to even think about anyone else right now. So sorry to drag you into all of this."
"Hey, we gave it an honest go, huh?" He says with a kind of sad half-smile.
WAYYYYY to nice for me.
I can't say yes, because that would be lying, so I just half-smile back with a what-can-you-do shrug and walk over to the bar and ask the bartender to call a taxi to come pick me up.
As I'm waiting outside for the taxi, I realize that as long as I'm still drunk and feeling loose, I may as well ask Cartman what I've wanted to ask him since Day 1 of our hooking up.
I scroll through my cell's phonebook, and luckily he's near the top of the list, even though I can't remember the last time I called him, because it's like a mystery maze trying to select the right persons number on your phone when you're drunk.
I click call, and he picks up after a single ring.
"Kahl?" he asks.
"Oh Cartman" I say, leaning against the brick wall outside the bar. His voice sounds exactly like you'd want a voice to sound that you call.
"Are you ok?" he asks.
"I'm fine Cartman, I mean like I'm still drunk but like fine otherwise. I just called because I wanted to know why you never take your shirt off when we have sex," as soon as the question is out, I realize that I said "have" sex and not "had" sex. "Had. I mean. Had sex," I correct myself to him.
It sounds like he's covering the phone, so I press my ear hard against the receiver to hear what he's saying, and I hear him laughing even though he's trying to muffle it.
"It's not funny Cartman. It is a very serious matter," I tell him.
"Oh yes Kahl, a very serious matter," he says, "I didn't mean to laugh."
"Soooooo? What's the answer then?"
"How's your date going?"
"You didn't answer my question," I tell him.
"Would you accept the answer, "Because it drives you crazy"?
"No," I say, "I mean it does drive me crazy, but there has to be a reason."
"Maybe it's because I have an "I heart Kyle" tattoo on my chest that I don't want to you to see," Cartman says.
"Do you really?" I ask him.
"Hmm, I guess you'll never find out," he says, "unless we have sex one last time."
"We just HAD sex one last time!" I say.
"Yes, but not with our shirts off, Kahl," He says matter-of-factly.
He has a point.
"Are you still on your date?" He asks
"No, I told Mark I wasn't ready to be dating yet because I'm still in love with you," I tell Cartman distractedly, as I climb into the taxi that just pulled up, and tell the driver my address.
Cartman does a sharp intake of breath. "Tell the taxi driver to take you to my place," Cartman says.
"Nooo Cartman. I'm way too drunk still, I'll come tomorrow."
"You're not going to want to come over tomorrow, Jew."
"Yes I will!"
"Trust me Kahl, it's now or never, do you want to see what's under my shirt or not?"
I do. I've waited a year to see. We've already had sex once tonight so it's not like I could fuck up any more than I already have in the failing miserably at getting over Cartman department. I give up.
I give the taxi driver Cartman's address.
Even though Cartman doesn't say anything in response, I can hear him smiling over the phone.
When the taxi driver gets to Cartman's house, he's waiting outside for me.
"Show me," I say reaching for his shirt.
He ducks out of my way easily, "Not here."
Then he scoops me up in his arms and carries me into his house.
When we get inside, instead of carrying me to his bed, he carries me into his living room and puts me on the couch.
"Ok Jew, here are your choices. I can take you to the bedroom right now and we can have sex right off the bat with our shirts off, or we can play Strip Poker, and you can play to have a chance to get me to take off my shirt without having to have sex with me. Your choice."
"I'll play you for your shirt," I say.
"That's what I thought you'd say," he says, handing me a deck of cards.
Within a half hour, I'm sitting naked on his couch, while he is fully clothed.
Of course he's fucking amazing at Poker but I had no idea. I should have known Cartman would never have entered a game he couldn't win.
"Hmm," he says, "So now I have one very naked Jew on my couch, who still wants to see me with my shirt off. Hmm, let's see. I do believe we still have the other option left," He says generously.
At this point I'm crashing pretty hard from the alcohol, and can barely keep my eyes open.
"Bed, Cartman," I want to tell him that I mean I want to go to bed just to sleep, because I'm too tired for sex, but before I can blink he's scooped me up, carried me to his room, and tucked me under the covers of his massive king-size bed.
Maybe tomorrow he'll take his shirt off for me, I think as I drift off to sleep.