An existential crisis

You run out of the building as quick as you can, but once outside, you slow to a quick walk. You maintain this pace while your mind is racing. Something feels...off.

The blowjob in there was amazing, but you can't shake the sensation of just plain wrongness. You're not actually a professor at a college. This is just supposed to be a cheap thrill, an excuse to get women on their knees in front of you.

You clap your hands over your ears and squeeze your eyes shut to blot out the sights and sounds of the campus around you. Vaguely, you understand that moving at this pace while blind and deaf should be dangerous but you don't stop or slow down.

A flurry of thoughts blur through your consciousness. This isn't who you are. Is there something else you should be doing? Is there some sort of meaning to this? Is this all there is, just chasing the next chance to get your dick wet? Why do you still wear pants in heaven?

Like a muscle that's been overused, your brain feel tired and sluggish. It can't keep up with these questions and thoughts. You just want the wrongness to go away. Isn't there someone who can tell you what to do? Your head hurts.

You drop your hands to your side and open you eyes again, but you don't lift them any higher than the next step in front of you. All sounds of the campus are gone completely, but you scarcely notice. Another sound takes it's place, a soft, clip-clop keeping pace with you. A small groan escapes your lips.

"What do you want to do?" A familiar voice asks. The question just makes your head hurt more. Another groan is your only a response.

The presence next to you snorts softly, "This world is meant to fulfill your every need and desire. The overall concept is meant to echo your most sought after goal while you were alive. The finer details are up to you but there are literally infinite ways for you to configure your reality. I..."

You groan loudly at all the words. You say nothing and just shake your head.

Another snort. "Fine." After a short pause, "You want another go at that last woman while tea bagging some other random whore."

The words burn within your mind. Where a moment ago you felt lost and adrift, you are now filled with a sense of purpose. You lift your head and the world snaps back into focus.

It's late. You seem to have lost a few hours somewhere. You don't pay it any mind. You fumble around your pockets and pull out a phone. Did you have that before? No matter. You dial the number on the slip of paper.

"Michelle, it's David. Dinner. Tonight. Your place." You quickly end the call and start dialing again. After placing an order for delivery, you set out with a plan of action.