{The street lights pass as a blur, as i ride in my Porsche .8 spider. The winds of night brush my auburn hair into a mess, caressing my skin with moisture. I stare blankly at the empty road ahead. I could still smell her on my white cotton shirt, buttoned down to cool myself down. In fact, i could still see her, lying on her silk red sheets, glistening from head to toe of her sweat, sleeping so silently like a child, exhausted of all energy. They were always like that after. She didn't even tussle in bed when i left. She was special, this one. She looked a little bit like my first love. And yet, i know that in an hour i shall forget her, name and face completely wipes off my memory. It is better this way. The rest too were special in their own way, but still having nothing that would have pushed me to stay.
I tapped the pockets of my coat, feeling every content, making sure everything was there. I always made sure no trace of me had been left behind. It has become much like a routine. Alas, its a new day. Another mindless array of clients to settle at the office. There is that cute young intern to keep me company. But my father taught me never to mix business with pleasure. It is much too messy. I figured i would check out that new club the guys had kept buggin me to go to. I hear tonight's ladies night.}
Player by M. Rushdy