AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Hot. Scorching hot, just like his body. I don't know if it was the wine or him or both, but Dane had me telling him what I wanted and how I wanted it. He had me dripping, and I swear I've never gotten off that good."
"How about the condom? What did he pick?"
"Trojan BareSkin in size large. It fit him nicely, and we emptied the box."
"Damn, I need to visit my neighbor."
"Your neighbor? Why?" I tip my head in confusion.
"I have a sexy and very naughty single neighbor across the hall that lets me take advantage of his body when I need to get off. And I need to get off after hearing how your night went."
"That's awfully convenient." I should be surprised, but I'm not. This isn't the first time I've known Laurel to make this kind of arrangement.
"So you took my advice, found a good-looking guy, screwed his brains out, and left him in the dust. Don't you feel better now?"
"I do. Last night was a better-than-expected diversion, and I had the best goddamn sex I've ever had. But there's a problem."
"What problem could you possibly have after that?" Laurel's voice has an edge to it as if she's affronted that I didn't declare her suggestion perfect.
"I think Dane ruined me for life, and sex will never be the same again. I can't even think about him without having to cross my legs. He was that damn good."
Laurel giggles. "Hey…uh…news flash for you. The point was to have fun and get all that pent-up aggression out of your system. It wasn't to have such a great one-nighter that no one else can service your needs properly. Maybe you should have found some guy last night with half a weenie instead." Her voice drips with amusement, and I can picture the grin on her face. "Remember, variety is the spice of life, from the tiny winkie to the ultra-huge dong. And they all serve the same purpose."
"Jesus, thanks for the mental picture. I'll spend the rest of the day visualizing a lineup of dicks, arranged by size."
"Oh, shit. That would be interesting. Okay, back to trying to be serious here. So if the guy was that good, why not hit him up for another round?"
"Um, you forget I'm on a cruise ship and will be leaving Budapest. Besides, I wouldn't know how to get a hold ofDane. And it doesn't matter anyway. I don't have time for a relationship, nor do I want one. And I'm not going to settle for something half-ass again just because it's convenient and end up with another jerk like Troy. That relationship was an absolute failure."
"Jeez, sis. I'm not talking about having a relationship. I'm talking about having sex. And it's a shame you can't contact this guy since he's so hot, and you already know what you'll get with him. Oh well. When you get home, maybe you can check out your neighbors. You know, make an arrangement like I have with mine where you give the guy a jingle when you're horny, have wild sex, then walk away until the urge hits again. That's my kind of relationship. So what do you know about the hottie from last night anyway?"
"I know he's British and lives in London. So there's a great big Atlantic Ocean between us. That certainly eliminates calling him up for a quickie, even if I could get a hold of him. Besides that, he attended Oxford University, speaks multiple languages, and is the co-owner of an international business, which sounds like it's a hotel or something."
"Damn, you scored with this guy. Besides being good in bed, he's educated, owns his own company, and might be well off. Are you sure you don't want to go back to the restaurant or stake out the apartment building to try to find him?"
"Positive, and that sounds way too crazy, even for you."
"Fine. I tried. Anyway, I need to get off the phone to catch my neighbor before he leaves. I'll call you later."
"I'll talk to you later. Bye." I hang up my phone and shake my head. Laurel is one of a kind and much more blunt and aggressive than me, especially where men are concerned. She can also be an ice block, taking what she wants from them and giving nothing other than her physical body in return, which is only done on her terms. Sighing, I wonder if our differencesstem from our childhood. Laurel is seven years younger than me with a different father, and where my early life had several years of nurturing, hers had none.
My father was a loving and doting man, a good guy, from what I've been told. I was five years old when he died in a freak accident, falling off a ladder and snapping his neck. Although moneyed like my father, Laurel's dad was a flake. He left us when Laurel was two, living the life of a wealthy playboy while his family sat forgotten in a corner. He divorced our mother when Laurel was seven, having found another woman he wanted to call his wife.
Bringing myself back to the present, I glance at my watch. The mandatory safety meeting will be starting soon. I make a quick pit stop in the bathroom to freshen up and then head down the corridor. The lounge is on the deck above me, so I climb the stairs by the reception desk and walk a few steps down a hall and through a frosted glass sliding door.
The lounge is noisy and filled with people. There's tons of seating in small groups, but most of it is taken. I scan the room with its earth-toned carpeting, curtains, and upholstered furniture for a place to sit, spotting an empty seat at the edge of a sitting area against the window occupied by four older women. I hurry toward them, and one of the women smiles at me when I take the empty chair.
"Hello," the woman says.
"Hello. I guess I'm just in time," I say politely as I quickly size up the ladies. Dressed in pastel colors, they each wear a different shade with their heads crowned with gray or white hair or a combination of the two. For some reason, they remind me of a basket of Easter eggs.
"You are. I'm Iris, and these three wild ladies are Rose, Marigold, and Dahlia." She points at each of the ladies as sheintroduces them, going clockwise from her left, starting with Rose. "Be careful of Dahlia. She's a mean one," Iris laughs.
Dahlia gives Iris a condescending look. "Speak for yourself, you hussy."
"And proud of it." Iris pats her head full of white hair, which appears thickly covered in hairspray based on its bounce when she touches it.
I can't help but smile as I listen to this group of "wild ladies," who appear to be in their late sixties or early seventies. My smile deepens to a grin when I realize the correlation between their clothing and their names. Iris is dressed in shades of lavender, and Dahlia, with her head of salt-and-pepper hair, is in yellow. Rose, white-haired like Iris, is dressed in pink, and gray-haired Marigold is in orange. Marigold reminds me of a librarian with her eyeglasses and reserved expression.
