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She nodded sagely. “I recognize myself in you.” She paused for a few seconds and then pressed on. “Did you work to earn your money, or did you inherit it?”
I raised my eyebrows at her boldness but then answered. “Both.”
“Ahhh. Even worse than I suspected.”
What did how I came about money have to do with anything?
She dug into her purse and then pulled out what looked like a business card. “I had to learn how to be more submissive in the bedroom before I could really feel free. Of course, it takes an experienced, dominant man — or woman, if that’s your thing — to safely take the reins to allow that complete surrender. It’s changed my whole life. Giving up that control is freeing. It’s the greatest feeling in the world. Absolute nirvana.”
“You’re talking about a BDSM relationship? Dom/sub type of thing?”
Honestly, I couldn’t ever imagine submitting myself fully to someone else. It wasn’t just laughable to me; I almost found the thought repulsive. I just wasn’t made that way.
Some of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because she smirked knowingly.
Just then, the door across the room opened again. “Mrs. Davis, we’re ready for you.”
The woman stood up. She handed me the card from her purse. “My advice is to choose the sperm donor.”
I looked down at the card in my hand. One word was written in red script on the black business card: Scarlett. There was a phone number underneath it. The rest of the card was empty, including the back. I wasn’t even sure what Scarlett was. I’d probably toss the thing as soon as I could.
The woman walked across the room and, just before disappearing behind the door, she turned back to me and winked. “And don’t throw away the card.” The door shut behind her and she was gone.
Chapter 3
Bash
Date #1
I should have pulled the plug on date #1 right away. As soon as I opened the door, I noticed Maryellen wasn’t the type of girl I would have normally chosen to go out with.
She might have been attractive if she’d put a bit of effort into it. She was wearing a faded blue T-shirt covered with short, white animal hairs and a pair of jeans that had weird stretched-out, drooping knees. It was a hot sunny day; how the hell was she wearing denim without overheating? The most distracting thing about her was the way her brunette hair was cut and styled. Her bangs were super short and stubby – a look even really edgy girls could rarely pull off. They looked like Kaylie’s bangs had that time she’d taken a pair of scissors to them when she was six.
Altogether, her features weren’t ugly, but when she smiled, her painfully crooked row of bottom teeth stood out. When I introduced myself, she held out a hand for me to shake. It was awkward.
Not sure what to do, I invited her inside. Unfortunately, that choice to be a nice guy instead of ending it on the spot led to an awkward get-together of pure agony. Fuck. It was brutal.
She stepped inside my house. “Wow, you’re so not what I expected!” She seemed excited. “Josie told my grannie that you play drums in a band? That’s neat.”
I was about to answer when her phone rang. She held up a finger for me to wait and then she turned her back to me before she lifted the phone to her face. “All clear, Nugget. Thanks.”
She giggled and then turned back around to face me. “So, yeah, I used to play the trombone for years. I was in the marching band in high school. My mom wouldn’t let me go to band camp with the cool kids, because ... well, you know. But I went to a lot of competitions. Even some overnights!”
“Huh.” I was at a loss for words.
She kept babbling. “Yeah, I was thinking about bringing over my trombone. Maybe you’d want to jam together? I mean, I was thinking about doing it, but I really wasn’t. Besides, my trombone playing is probably really rusty, so ...”
Rusty trombone? Was she trying to make sexual innuendos? I wasn’t sure, but my dick was busy trying to burrow into my body in hiding. I was definitely not attracted to her.
How did I ditch her without being a complete asshole? She was looking at me expectantly. I panicked. “Would you like a drink? Water, beer, wine?”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I don’t drink alcohol. Well, maybe one drink would be okay. Social lubrication, and all that. But, I’m driving. So, water would be good.”
Did she just look at my junk when she said lubrication? Or was I just freaking out? “Water. Okay. One moment.”
I bolted out of the room toward the kitchen, hoping she wouldn’t follow me. I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator and then took a few deep breaths.
So, it was obvious this wasn’t a love match, but I didn’t need to be a dick to her. I would be a gentleman.
