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On paper, he was everything a woman could want: tall with broad shoulders, blue eyes, coffee-colored hair, and a smile that belonged in a toothpaste commercial. But he was also slimier than a lubed up slug. He thought all women should swoon in the presence of his greatness. When I’d said yes to this date, he’d caught me at a bad time.
The night before he’d asked me out, my vibrator had died, and I had no AA batteries—so not what I’d needed while masturbating to my favorite porn clip. I blamed that disaster on accidentally walking beneath a ladder outside my apartment building on my way to work.
When Simon asked me for what seemed like the millionth time if I would accompany him to the art exhibition, I was frustrated and horny, so I said yes. Big mistake. Huge.
No matter how often I’d attempted to cancel, he’d talked me in circles, and now here I was walking around a gallery looking at paintings way above my pay grade with a man obsessed with his own importance.
All day, I’d been dreading seeing him. I should’ve texted and said I’d caught Norovirus or the plague or leprosy or something, but instead, little old people pleaser me did something I didn’t want to do so I could keep someone else happy.
Maybe part of me thought—hoped—that perhaps one on one he wouldn’t be as arrogant as he acted in the office. Wrong. So incredibly wrong. He was just as arrogant with a touch of narcissism thrown in for good measure. I sure could pick ‘em and pick ‘em I always did.
It’d been eons since I’d gone on a date. The constant disappointment wasn’t worth putting myself out there. My reasons for always saying no were long and cringe-worthy.
There was one time when my old work bestie Maya had set me up on a blind date. Turned out he was the cop who’d given me a ticket the day before. The cop I’d called a jerk. The cop I’d given the finger to as I drove off.
There was also the time when my date showed up with his parents. His mom asked me if I believed in sex before marriage. When I said I did, the more sex the better, she barked at the server to box up our barely touched meals—mine included—and stormed out of the restaurant with her son, my date, running after her like a naughty schoolboy. I was stuck with the bill.
Then there was the guy I’d met on Swipe. He said he was divorced and had no kids. During dinner, his fuming wife stormed in with their two kids in tow. She’d told me he was bipolar and was in the middle of a manic episode.
That debacle was two years ago, and it was also the last time I’d dipped my toes into the dating pool. No dates meant no sex.
Not that I minded not having sex with the metrosexuals and crazies who’d crossed my path. There were things I craved and the older I got, the more I ached to satisfy those cravings.
Most men would have bolted if I’d asked any of them to spank my ass or pull my hair. Hence my need to watch online porn to vicariously live out my fantasies.
While my self-administered orgasms scratched an itch, they weren’t the same as having a man’s throbbing cock between my legs. I was giving up hope of that ever happening again.
“Look,” I said, trying to remain sweet and cool. “Can we both agree this was a mistake and call it a night. We have less than nothing in common.”
He selected a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, took a sip and narrowed his eyes. “I almost asked Jenna from reception. But your tits are bigger than hers and your ass too. I like a woman with some junk in the trunk.”
My fingers curled into a fist. I so wanted to punch his perfect nose and watch as blood spurted down his shirt, but I held back. Attacking my superior a month into a new job with a new company wouldn’t go down well with HR. Even if the creep deserved it.
“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you, Simon?”
He didn’t reply because his attention was somewhere else entirely. I followed his line of sight. I should have known. His beady eyes were making laser beams at my boobs. Perhaps wearing a low-cut dress that showed off my cleavage was a mistake, but I’d wanted to look good, and my red bandage dress always gave me a confidence boost. Plus, it complimented my new mystic star charm necklace.
The seven points of the gold star where supposed to bring wealth, happiness, love, luck, wisdom, respect, and glory, but, so far, it hadn’t brought me any of those things. Perhaps it needed a day or two to blend with my energy.
