Later that day, I am in lecture sitting alone because all of my friends decided to skip and not tell me. I vowed to be a good classmate and take great notes for them, but I just wasn't feeling it today. I had other, much more enjoyable things floating through my head. I'm happy to receive a text to distract me. I get happier when I see who sent it.

Mickey: You in class?

I stare at the message, wondering why he would have sent it. My professor is going on and on about his off-topic tangent, so I text him back.

Me: Yes. It's super lame.

Mickey texts back almost immediately.

Mickey: I'm done with 

the shoot now so I can 

eat whatever I want!

Do you know a place I 

can get legit Mexican 

food?

Me: Yes! It's called 

El Jefe's. About 10 

minutes from the 

hotel

Mickey: You busy 

after class?

Come eat with me.

My stomach growls in the quiet room. I wouldn't pass on going to my favorite place, so I reply yes. The professor ends class a few minutes early and I walk to my car.

♡♡♡

When I make it to the restaurant, the place is the complete opposite of busy. I see him sitting in a booth at the edge by the windows. He's wearing a button-down, short-sleeved shirt and has thick-framed glasses on. Combined with his incredibly short haircut, he's giving off a confusing mix of hipster and bad boy vibes. I wonder what kind of vibes my sweatpants give off.

He looks up at me as I walk over. "Hey, thanks for coming," he says. He stands and gives me a quick hug. I return it happily.

"I promise this place is better than it looks," I say as I scoot into the booth across from him.

He chuckles. "I trust you."

We look over the menu and decide to get the spread: fajitas, enchiladas, and fully-loaded nachos. The waitress, Claudia, looks very amused as she takes our order, eyeing us both suspiciously. "Él es tu novio?" she asks me. She's a good enough acquaintance to be aware of my relationship status.

I chuckle. "No."

"Qué lástima. Él es muy guapo." Yeah, no shit he's handsome.

"Lo sé," I agree as I look at Mickey.

He gives me a confused look as Claudia walks away. "You know how to speak Spanish?"

"Kind of. Half my family lives in Mexico, so I understand enough to fake it."

His eyes go wide. "You're Latina?" I nod. "I had no idea."

"I know. I'm misleadingly fair. My dad was pretty light and my mom is probably the whitest person alive."

He smiles guiltily. "Well, now I feel racist for inviting you to eat Mexican food."

"It's okay. This is Tex-Mex," I say cheekily. He laughs.

Claudia brings over some glasses of water, and I watch Mickey eye me as he takes a sip. Even though we have literally slept together, it still feels surreal to be sitting next to someone as famous as he is.

"This might be an odd question to ask now," I start to say. "But is Mickey Vale your real name?"

He grins. "Not technically. My real name is Michael Valentino. I've gone by Mickey so long, the only people who call me 'Michael' at this point are strangers and assholes."

"Was Mickey a nickname?"

He tilts his head as if trying to decide. "Yes and no. My family's nickname for me was 'Little Dickey'." I laugh but cover my mouth guiltily. "Shut up," he says playfully. "Obviously, that was a curse when I started school, so I lied and told everyone my nickname was Mickey until it stuck."

"Puberty must have been such good karma for you," I say. He looks confused. "You know. Because your little dickey stopped being little."

Mickey laughs so hard he nearly cries. I laugh with him. "You are unbearably cute," he says, wiping his eyes. I smile coyly and sip my drink.

It hadn't been five minutes, but the food comes out. We both light up, drooling over the massive feast before us. "I'm glad we already had sex, because you are going to be disgusted when you see what I'm about to do to this food," I say.

"That's absolutely untrue. I love a woman that can eat." He looks at me flirtatiously and smiles his panty-dropping smile. I feel my cheeks warm, and distract myself with a nacho. "So, are you from here?" he asks me.

"Not originally. I grew up in Arlington, Texas -- where the Dallas Cowboys play -- then I moved here during high school. Where are you from?"

"Boston."

"Really? You don't have much of an accent."

He laughs. "No, I think California has killed most of it, but it still comes out when I get pissed off."

"Do you have siblings?"

"Yeah, I have three older brothers and a little sister."

"Five kids? That sounds like hell."

He chuckles. "It was and it still is. I'm from a very stereotypical Italian-American family, so we're a bunch of big, loud personalities."

I smile at the thought of calm, kind Mickey fighting with siblings as a kid. How did he go from that to the man he is now? "So ... how did you get into your line of work exactly?"

"Porn?" he smiles. It is his profession, he isn't embarrassed to talk about it. "Well ... After high school, I moved out to California with the hopes of being an actor like everyone else on the planet." I look at him as he talks between bites of his food. "When I went in for an audition, I was approached to model. Only when I went to the shoot did I realize it was nude." I go wide-eyed, covering my overly full mouth. "One thing led to another and I started doing some fetish work. Then I was offered the chance to do scenes, and I said yes."

"So was it ever a desire to just have a bunch of sex?"

"No. I mean, I think that's every man's dream -- getting to fuck hundreds of beautiful women and get paid for it. But the reality is that it isn't a ton of sex. At first, it was one or two scenes a week while I was working another job to make ends meet. Now it's maybe two a month because I'm so expensive," he smiles at me cheekily before taking a bite. He chews and says, "If it was just about getting laid I wouldn't have done gay scenes."

My eyes go wide with excitement. "You did gay scenes?"

"Yes." How have I not seen this? How?

"Do you consider yourself bisexual?"

"No, I'm very straight."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because it paid four times as much, and I needed to make rent." That made perfect sense to me. "Sex work is sex work. I've done plenty of things I don't prefer for money."

I smile happily at his words. "Does your family know what you do?" He nods his head. "Are they supportive?"

He looked perturbed. "Not at all. But enough about me," he changes the subject quickly. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's your story?"

I finish chewing my overly cheesy bite. "I don't have a story," I lie.

"Everyone has a story."

I look at him hesitantly. He stares at me with his brown eyes, as if he can see straight through my ruse. I'm blunt, yes, but it's a defense mechanism. I don't like talking about myself because I don't want to admit what I've been through or what I've done. Most people never get close enough to me to realize that, which is exactly how I prefer it. Mickey wasn't going to be any different, no matter how good he fucked me.

"I'm fast-tracking my master's. All I do is study and work odd hours at the hotel," I say, steering the conversation to a safe place.

"What are you getting your master's in?" I relax when I see my ploy has worked.

"An MSN to be a Nurse Practitioner. I wanted to go into medicine, so I'm doing the option with the least amount of debt."

"So she's funny, sexy and smart."

"She is," I admit proudly. "But I work my ass off. You're not born Magna Cum Laude, you earn it."

"Shit, are you serious?" I nod matter-of-factly. "I knew there was a reason I liked you so much." He smiles at me, and it clicks. I feel a nervous flutter in my chest.

"Mickey..." I start to ask. "Is this supposed to be a date?"

He grins at me flirtatiously. "Do you want it to be?" I wasn't sure how to respond. "It wasn't supposed to be one, per se. I just wanted to see you again."

I try not to laugh. "See me again? Why?"

"I think you're a really cool person, and a really great lay."

"Wow," I laugh. "That's a huge compliment coming from you."

"Well, it's true. Besides ... It isn't very often that a woman finds out I do porn and is still willing to sleep with me. Let alone hang out afterward without going batshit crazy."

I laugh. "I cried after sex. That isn't crazy enough for you?"

"Nope." He grins at me as he licks the tip of his thumb slowly. "Will you come see me tomorrow before I leave?"

I look at him disbelievingly. "Okay, my pussy can't be that good."

"Oh, but it is."

I shake my head and roll my eyes. "I have practicum all day tomorrow. I need to study."

"Tonight then?"

I sigh. "I really can't. This isn't a change my mind five minutes later situation, either."

He pouts as Claudia comes over to drop off the check. I reach for my wallet, but he doesn't even pretend to care.

When we leave, Mickey walks me to my car like a gentleman. I unlock my rusting 2005 Civic, but he places a hand against my door to keep me from leaving.

"You sure I can't change your mind?" he asks. I glance down at the ground to hide my smile, and then look back up to him. He looks at me longingly, and my breathing quivers. My skin aches for him as I remember what he feels like against it. I wish more than anything I could let myself partake one more time, but I've risked enough already.

I place my hand at his cheek and he nuzzles into it as he stares into my eyes. "You have my number. If you don't forget about me the minute you leave ... call me." I lean into him and kiss his lips. He returns it eagerly placing a hand gently behind my head. I pull my lips slowly from his, and smile when he looks a little sad. "Bye, Mickey."

He hesitates for a moment, but then steps away and drops his hand. "Bye, Penelope," he says sadly.

_____

A/N: Don't forget to vote, comment, and add to your library if you want more!