Page 6 of The Virgin Playboy

His long, curly hair was down tonight, spilling in a mess of rich, dark curls, as his burgundy multicolored polo hugged his visibly sculpted upper body. Tribal tattoos poked out from the short sleeves of his shirt, and even from a foot away, he smelled heavenly.

“Wow, you look amazing. Here I am, doubting my worthiness as we speak,” he said, with a sexy bite to his lip. He had such full ones, it was hard not to fantasize what they’d look like on the other end of my clit. And there I was getting ahead of myself. I really should have taken a cold shower before this.

“And look at you! Hair all down, biceps all out. If it didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to impress me,” I teased, as he held out his hand for me to grab, and he escorted me inside.

The lighting was dim, but the vibe was anything but. Bold, and colorful wall art instantly grabbed my attention, passing the host stand since Graham had already secured a space. I was grateful when he led me to a booth instead of a table, since the typical dining room tables were closer together and more intimate. That way we could talk more while having a chance to peek in and out of the performances on stage.

“I haven't gone to a drag bar in a while, but I like your choice of entertainment,” I said, as we locked eyes, the vibe surrounding us infectious, as we both succumbed to incessant giggling. I didn't take myself too seriously. I was glad to meet someone who was on the same wave length.

“What can I say? As a person studying music, I tend to have a love for all things dramatic. I love their Disney nights. In New Zealand there are only three drag bars across the island, and here there's one on every block,” he joked, my curiosity peaking at his field of study.

“You study music?” I asked, taking a sip of the complimentary water as a server reached out to take our drink orders. I chose a Black Berry margarita, and he went for a simple gin and tonic.

“I'm in a doctoral program over at Columbia. I only have time to volunteer at the library like once a week or whenever they’ll have me. My course load is pretty chaotic. But I love working with underserved communities, especially when there are books involved.” Did he just say he was in a doctoral program at the Columbia? Yeah, something's gotta be wrong with him, because no one could be this fine, sincere, and charitable. He's gotta have an A cup in print, or a wife back home.

“Wowwwww…Columbia? That's got to be exciting. Here I am thinking you were a real-life librarian. Turns out you're a mastermind in music. Tell me more about that,” I inquired, his lips breaking into a smile showing off his near perfect teeth. I only say they were near perfect because his incisors were cute and quirky with a certain point to them. Who knows, maybe he was a vampire.

“I've always been musical. The way my brain works, I see the world around me in notes and melodies. Like her over there, she's definitely a staccato. I can tell by how vibrant her body language is. And her, she's like a tonic. Steady, centered, reasonable.” Taking a sip of my drink, he adjusted his glasses on his face and ran his fingers through his thick hair.

“Considering I know nothing about the technicalities of music. I wonder what I might be.” He playfully squinted, pondering as he took another sip of his drink.

“See, that's what I've been wondering. I've been trying to form an opinion on you all day, but I'm afraid I'll just have to spend more time with you to see. Besides, I'd rather not talk about myself all night. I want to know more about you. Have you always been a writer, or did you do something else for work?” My lips thinned, knowing what I used to do, led to political affiliations and hard conversations men tended to skate around.

But it did have a habit of hinting at hateful values, as I was love is love, ACAB all day, and burning establishments down to the ground to start something new over here. If a guy thought the opposite, there'd be no hopping on the dick tonight, tomorrow, or anytime in the near future.

“Actually, I used to be a political news anchor for a popular network in Atlanta. I did that for ten years.”

“Ahhh…Journalism, the last truth provider to the general public. You must have gotten to do some interesting work. American politics is such a vicious monster. You had to have been amazing at your job to have lasted ten years. I wish that I had the discipline to conduct all the research involved in journalism, especially with so much dishonesty polluting people's minds and turning people tribal. I can't say that I'm overly political, but I can say that I'm on the side that cares about human rights for all, wildlife, and the beautiful environment we often take for granted. My mum’s Māori, so it's hard not to feel some kind of connection with the land that we stand on and take for granted. It feels like folks aren't going to be content until we're all underwater or the sun collides into the earth. I mean, come on. We all have to exist here. The least we can do is take better care of her. Where's Captain Planet when you need him?” he joked, putting my mind to rest where he likely sat on things.

“I gotta say, I'm loving the reference to my childhood. How do you know about Captain Planet?” I teased, as he thanked the vivacious waitress for delivering our appetizers.

“Well, I have an older sister, and great things get passed down. I've also been really curious of how things existed before my generation. Media in different time frames is eye-opening in that sense. I wish I could say I was an expert but other than wanting to check out the musical scores, I don't watch much TV. What made you leave your job to become a writer? I assume that's what you did. I fought hard not to Google you,” he joked, making me grateful that he didn't.

“I suppose I just got tired of being this version of myself that I had convinced myself I had to be. I had fun at my network. I learned a lot from that experience, and I adore the accessibility to truth and being a resource to the general public in terms of reliability. But I think I went into journalism because I thought that my folks would be prouder of me pursuing something more practical, if that makes sense. My mom is from a prominent family in the South. Her family is like generation after generation of successful college graduates, and my dad is from the Islands.

He went from nothing to everything, chasing the American dream. When you have that kind of pressure on you, you feel like you can’t just do whatever you want. You go into something that makes them feel like you didn’t waste your life on a degree you can’t use. But I don't know, when I told them I was quitting my job to pursue writing, they seemed really proud. They probably would have just supported me from the start. My mom always joked that I should have been an actress because of how easy it is for me to alter my real voice to my anchor voice and all the other voices I’ve got floating in my head. But those are just the characters talking through me, I could never act when I actually had to. I've always loved writing. Mainly weird shit and horror. It's only taken me this long to realize I can make money off the things I love.”

“That is awesome. I'm sad to hear that you had to be a certain kind of person to feel like you’re properly contributing to society. I think I can relate to that. My folks had…” he hesitated. “A very different plan for me. Maybe studying music doesn't have the same impact on people that journalism has, but it's still something a lot of people can't live without. I don't regret the path I'm on. What kind of weird horror do you like?” he questioned, never staying on conversation centering himself.

That was ok. Most men couldn’t shut up about themselves. This was a nice change. Gave me a chance to think of all the amazing Black horror that had dropped in recent years. I was grateful my favorite genre was providing more representation, but when it came to my villain origin story, I didn't have the luxury of being as picky as I am now.

“I'm not a horror snob, I love it all. But the writer that got me started on my love for it was probably Anne Rice. The Vampire Chronicles is probably my favorite series ever. It's so sad that she'll never write another book again,” I frowned.

“I get what you mean. I have a lot of folks that I idolize, but I do prefer living legends who are still growing and composing. Don't get me wrong, I love the ones who are no longer with us, but it's nice to be able to observe someone's skill and talent in the now. Pick their brains a bit. You’ll probably decline a second date with me when I confess this, but I really love the Interview with a Vampire with Jacob Anderson. The score on that one was brilliant. I still need to read the books, though,” he teased, admitting that the only materials he had time to read was sheet music and course books on music theory.

Graham was the freshest breath of air I found myself engaging with in a while. Loves the environment. Incredibly gifted and the definition of a green flag. If I were to break my drought with anyone, I'd rather it be with him than some himbo. Obviously, I wasn't gonna force it, but if it ended up just flowing there naturally, I wouldn't turn it down.

“So, who are some of these living legends on your radar? I don't have the ear for music the way you likely do, but I'm curious about your inspirations.” He pondered for a moment, making this cute little sound as he thought about it.

“So, I think while I have a lot of favorites, I love Lin Manuel Miranda. I enjoyed Into the Heights immensely but his work on Hamilton completely blew me away. Blending the telling of American history with hip-hop and Caribbean compositions was something I was not expecting. And then the diverse cast was just, chef’s kiss.

And of course, there's like Hans Zimmer and Courtney Bryan who have more classic styles. But as far as vocalists go in general, I’d say I love Gladys Knight. I even named my guitar after her seeing her perform for the first time.” I bit back a smug smile, excusing myself to the bathroom to look through my iCloud of charity events I had the honor of attending and voila, I’d located the photos I’d taken with two of his faves that I’d added to my wall of fame back home. Walking back with a skip to my step, I slid in the booth across from him with a smile, he welcomed me back.

“You know, when you mentioned all the people's work you admire, it dawned on me that I actually met a few of them. Gladys Knight and Lin Manuel Miranda specifically. There are literally pictures of me with the two of them on my wall. You'd die if you saw them.”

“I don't think I'd die, but I would love to see them. Obviously, only if you were okay with having me in your home,” he ended, leading me to believe that we were secretly on the same page when it came to wanting to hook up.

“Would you like to see it now?” His eyebrows rose as our waitress approached to see if everything was okay.