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This is why I’m in New York this week. I was asked to be a keynote speaker at this year's Women’s Sexual Empowerment Convention. I’m so honored by this opportunity. Some may say that being secure in your sexuality isn’t necessarily the same as women’s empowerment, but I strongly disagree. If a woman is confident enough to know what she wants, when she wants it, and how she wants it, it could be life changing. Not only is she vocalizing her needs and wants in one of the most vulnerable and intimate settings, but she is making those needs understood and fulfilled… hopefully. Now who’s going to tell me that this self-confidence and empowerment will not spill over and infiltrate other, if not all, aspects of her life?
Sitting in our secluded area, not bothering to look at the menu, we give our usual drink orders and fall into some mindless banter about this week's conference. I scan the lounge, admiring the atmosphere and all its gorgeous inhabitants. Everyone is so impeccably dressed and put together. Most of the men look like they just walked right out of aGQphoto shoot. I turn my attention back to the table and find Ava staring at her phone.
“So, how’s things going with ‘Mr. Finance’, Aves?” I question, which seems to break her out of her phone trance.
“We ended things the other day,” she answers but doesn't seem too disappointed about it.
“Still wasn’t doing it for you, I take it?”
“Honestly, I think he was just so set in his ways that he refused to try anything new. You should have seen his face when I mentioned bringing a toy into bed with us.”
“Did you present the idea of a toy as a teammate and not the competition, like I suggested?” I add, recalling our conversation from last week.
“Oh, I tried, but then he said he has no problems bringing me to climax, so why would I want to bring in a toy? Then I alluded to the fact that I wasn’t getting off every time and I could tell I fractured his fragile male ego.”
“Ha! So, you were still faking every orgasm, then?” Quinn chimes in.
“Ugh, unfortunately!” Ava groans, then continues, “It wasn’t just the sex that caused us to split. He just wasn’t manly enough for me, not a single dominant bone in his body.”
“Oh shit, totally not our type. He really didn't have a clue what he was doing, did he?” Quinn laughs.
“Nope, not a clue. I mean, what guy can't tell his partner is faking it after three months of dating? Like come on…”
“See, I personally don't fake it… I want them to know I didn’t get off. Why fake it, so I can make them feel better about themselves? Fuck that! They need to learn to do better,” I add to the conversation. Because let's be real, a man shouldwantto learn what makes their lady tick, and not just use her as a way to get off.
“Preach!” Quinn and Ava yell out.
“That's part of the connection so many people are missing in their relationships. That deep sense of fulfillment you feel when you and your partner get exactly what you want and need. It makes you want to try your hardest every time,” I add.
“I think I need a manly-man, no more suit wearing, number crunchers for me,” Ava says in a huff, which makes us all laugh.
Our conversation ends when our drinks are delivered, along with a surprise round of cafe patron shots. When I raise my eyebrow at the waitress, questioning the shots, she responds, “They’re on the house.”
“Wow,” Quinn says, blushing, “What are the chances?”
“Yeah! Super weird,” Ava and I respond with suspicion.
We shrug it off, cheers to my successful week, and down the shots. Letting the warmth of the shot settle, I scan the room again. Not sure what or whom I'm looking for, but a sense of longing settles deep within me.
The seating areas seem far too intimate to zero in on any face. So I move my focus to the bar area, which is home to an expansive marble-topped bar and several high top bar tables scattered around the area.
Looking it over, my gaze locks onto a very familiar set of gray eyes. My expression shifts from shock to pure joy. “What the Hell!” I yelp. “What the hell is my brother doing here?”
I gaze at my girlfriends in disbelief. Soon realizing that Quinn is blushing even more than before and hiding a devilish smirk.
“He told me he was in town tonight, so I might’ve told him we were heading here for drinks.”
I know they are “friendly” and meet up when his schedule allows but had no idea my brother would be around tonight. His season just ended, so I didn’t expect him to be in New York so soon. I turn to see who my brother is with when the group of three make their way towards us, immediately noticing one of the guys is Eli’s close friends from college, Parker. Man, he is still a fine piece of meat. I met him at one of Eli’s college baseball parties a few years ago. He is the quintessential male that you read about in romance novels. Tall, dark, broodingly handsome, and covered in tattoos. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that discreetly covers all his tattoos except for one that I see peeking out of the slight opening at the top of his unbuttoned shirt collar. There’s another guy behind Parker. He’s looking down at his phone, so I can’t get a good view of his face. I shift in my seat as he finishes whatever he’s doing on it and looks up. As our eyes meet, my breath hitches and my cheeks flush. Holy shit, he’s here… Wesley. Fucking. King.
Three
Present Day
The numbers on the pages are blurring together, making me even more thankful that Eli reached out to have a drink tonight. Owning my bar has given me a sense of pride that modeling never did, but that's not to say it doesn’t come with a lot of stress. I need a drink… or five and now that we are both back in New York, I’m looking forward to getting to see my best friend during his off season.
Growing up, we were practically inseparable. I was always over at his house playing with him, his sisters, and Quinn. As we got older, things changed, but thankfully our brotherhood remained the same. I wouldn’t trade our friendship for the world, but over the years, it became harder to be around his family. This past Christmas proved that, for me, tenfold.
Before my thoughts spiral down that road, my phone chimes—it’s Eli letting me know he’s here.
