It has literally been Years since I last wrote a sexy story but I was re-reading one of my old ones last week and thought, I miss that. I'm just gonna give it 2 hours and see what comes... It's not my favorite of my stories, but it was sure great to be back at the keyboard. Feel free to let me know what you thought. I love feedback. :) -MC
*****
It's been 4 days, 3 hours and 32 minutes since his last text. I promise, I'm not neurotic, I'm just really into him and, well, having a crush on someone does fucked up shit to a normally rational mind. I know, I sound 13, counting the minutes and talking about crushes but seriously, when you're 31 and still single, while all of your friends are sleep deprived citizens of babyville, meeting a decent guy who doesn't set off your douche-o-meter is a: Big. Fucking. Deal.
I suppose it doesn't help that I really do want that big romantic amazing relationship that only happens in chick flicks. It's it really so much to ask for a guy to want me more than his next beer? My most recent ex, and by ex I mean guy I was settling for because the sex was ok and that was better than the three month dry spell before that was a cop. It's true, there's a certain sexiness that goes with the serve and protect/uniform man but his affinity for trying to choke me as he came really did nothing for me. I have nothing against a little BDSM roleplay now and then, but I also happen to like, I don't know, BREATHING.
I truly didn't start to feel panicked about the absence of good guys in my life until my late twenties. Up to then, I really just relished the fact that I could walk into a bar in a pushup bra and short skirt (well, with some top, preferably showing off my wonderbra induced cleavage) and take home any guy I wanted. I'm tall, so I'd immediately rule out anyone who didn't at least stand as tall as me in heals. I also ruled out excessive tattoos. I have nothing against tasteful, meaningful pieces but the guys who were head to toe covered in ink just didn't tickle my fancy... I would however be willing to bend this rule for Adam Levine. He has too much ink but, God what I wouldn't do to that man.
My high school best friend got married when we were 20. I pitied her. I couldn't imagine being stuck with someone for the rest of my life that I met at a frat party. To her credit, they are still together with 2 kids, 3 dogs, 1 cat and 4 chickens. They don't have a white picket fence but they still manage to have sex at least twice a week. I'm told that's a lot for a married with children sex life.
The rest of our circle of friends has all been married. Granted, more than half of them are divorced. I'm not judging them. I think marriage is probably pretty hard and even more so when you get married young before you know who you are. My beef with all of this is that now that I'm 31, I feel like I do know who I am. I've been teaching 7th grade math and science for enough years to have worn off the novelty. I love my guilty pleasure tv shows; Keeping Up With the Kardashians and anything to do with the Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise. I don't go to church, much to my father's dismay but I do enjoy joining one of my hippy (married) friends for random drumming circles and meditations.
Before you ask, yes of course I've tried online dating, speed dating, hitting on random guys in the grocery store. I've let my friends set me up, my mom set me up, even my Vice Principal, though that was creepy because she fixed me up with her ex! I've tried that Events and Adventures group and that It's Just Lunch matchmaking deal. I'm. Still. Single.
Of course, all of this makes me wonder if there isn't something really wrong with me. If even Casey, the literature snob who refers to Whitman as "Walt" ie "Walt's poems just really speak to the emptiness in my soul" has found a man to follow her to open mic nights and all you can eat sushi bars, then where's my guy who thinks that my obsession with trash tv is adorable and thinks it's hot that a tall, sexy, thin blonde knows enough about science to teach it to junior highers?!? Did I mention that Casey has stringy, greasy hair and is still wearing her favorite pair of shoes from 10 years ago? I'm pretty sure the What Not to Wear ladies could raid her life and make her a poster child.
At any rate, now that you have the slightest bit of background, allow me to fast forward to Seth... the nontexting object of my desire. Seth is the exact opposite of my type. He's 5'5, covered in tattoos and a hipster musician to boot. He sings songs about love and loss that just really speak to the emptiness in my soul... sorry, I had Casey's line in my head. His music really is beautiful, sort of Damien Rice meets Billy Joel. I started to fall for him just a little when he sang a song about his parents' divorce and how he wished their breakup could have been more amicable.
After his set, he made a beeline for me. I was flattered because the bar was packed with pretty hot girls, but I wasn't sincerely interested. 5'5? Yeah. No. However as we talked and talked and talked, closing down the bar, I started to wonder if that rule wasn't just the tiniest bit shallow. I don't believe in soul mates, but seriously, what if the love of my life is short and I've blown him off given my completely superficial rule?!?
Just as the night was drawing to a close a group of fairly drunk women accosted Seth, asking for autographs and trying to grope him. After several comments about how beautiful his eyes were, I decided it was time to go. While it was flattering that he'd singled me out, I had no desire to be a groupie. Watching those women definitely left me with a terrible taste in my mouth. I remembered my objections to musicians in the first place. I don't want every woman from here to Poughkeepsie trying to get in my man's pants. Coincidentally, that's my beef with fire fighters too...
Walking out to my car, leaving the whole pathetic scene behind me, I was stalled by a text from my best friend, Tyler. He's the firefighter who taught me that those guys couldn't be trusted. We've hooked up a couple of times, all late late at night when nothing else was happening. The sex is good but he's the king of non-commital, so I know better than to hope that will turn into anything. Besides, there are some friendships that are really worth keeping and Tyler has always had my back.
"Wanna come over and sit on my face?" his text read.
I laughed aloud, knowing that he was only half kidding. While I have heard many a man claim to be obsessed with going down on women, Tyler is the only one I've ever met who was any good at it. He doesn't need any sort of connection to tempt him into oral... just a well maintained vag and a pretty clit. Truly though, I don't have the foggiest idea what makes a clit pretty. I find them reasonably nondescript, but apparently I have one. Yay me!
Unlocking my car and taking a seat behind the wheel, I pause to text him back, "No thanks. What's up? Are you really down to your last string already? It's only 2am."
"Princess, you are first string... You just never say yes. The offer totally still stands, but actually I was wondering what you're doing tomorrow. Wanna go for a hike?"
"Normal people make these plans during daylight hours, you know... I'm not getting up before 10, not even if you promise to make me breakfast."
"Fine, no breakfast and we'll hike at 11. Your ass is getting to big to feed anyway."
"Fuck you. I love you. Good night."
"Love you too, Princess."
No sooner do I finish the text exchange than I hear a tap on my car window. I'm startled and jump a little and look up to find guyliner himself, smiling cheekily at me.
