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11
Lila
Ihoppedintomycar, peeked in the rearview mirror, and winked at myself.
Yep. I was getting my flirt on.
Switching the radio to my favorite oldies station, I burst out laughing once the music reached my ears. It’s Raining Men by The Weather Girls. I pulled out onto the highway and whizzed through traffic as I sang along. “It’s raining men, hallelujah…”
Blissful visions of several naked Hawks and Ricardos flooded my mind. I even had them fighting over me, muscles glistening in the rain, hair dripping wet, as they maneuvered around each other in a round of fist-to-fist combat.
I was rooting for Hawk, of course. He’s the one I was horny for. But I couldn’t touch that forbidden fruit, so I needed a strategy to extinguish Mount Doom between my legs. I didn’t want to go online to find a man or go on a date with a total stranger.
But I had no choice. I had to get back to normal for the sake of my practice, my sanity, and my career. My next twenty years were mapped out, and a man was not a direction on my compass.
All I needed was an occasional fling to satisfy my lustful urges so that my libido could hum along nicely in the background while I concentrated on more important things in life.
Besides, Hawk was a client. Fraternizing with him was grounds for immediate dismissal. I couldn’t risk my career. I had to stop this infatuation. I was being completely ridiculous.
Okay, fine. It was beyond ridiculous. I was addicted. Lucky for me, there was no one more knowledgeable on the subject of overcoming addiction in this city than myself. I had two priorities to focus on. One. Stop thinking about Hawk. Two. Release the excess libido. My sex drive was at warp speed. I needed to slow it down to within normal speed limits.
That’s where Rick came in. He was the lucky contestant who would distract me from Hawk and be my bang buddy so I could quench…please God, oh please…the raging inferno in my core.
Ah, yes. Ricardo. I couldn’t believe my luck. Was it fate? The Universe aligning the stars for us to meet? Had the Universe been a fraction of a second slower, I’d never have seen his profile, and I’d not be getting my online dating cherry popped tonight.
***
Over the last week, messages had flooded my dating app inbox.
The app had an assortment of Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbass.
ChrisHemsworth223344: What city do you live in?
HardOnHarry: How old are you?
Had they even bothered to read my profile? That was all in there.
Dumb.
Others couldn’t string together a coherent sentence.
LickMyJohnson9: Want meet drink?
BangWorthy33: You hot let’s fuck.
Dumber.
I felt like I had entered a Neanderthal colony. My standards weren’t too high for a romping fling, but was it asking too much to find someone with two brain cells to rub together?
The worst ones were vile and ludicrous.
ThickJack: How big your tits?
BestDate69: Is your pussy shaved?
TitsLover4life: Be my bad lil cum princess.
Dumbass.
