"You are seriously the scrooge of Valentine's Day, Julia," Whitney wasn't teasing her in the least. In fact, throughout their weekly girl's day out, she'd become increasing agitated with her best friend.
"Well Bah-Humbug then," Julia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her ample breasts, her cappuccino long forgotten on the table in front of them. "I'm just sick and tired of hearing about you and Rob. Just because you have a boyfriend, for once, on Valentine's Day you just have to rub it in."
"You just need to get fucked," Whitney didn't even care when the couple seated at the next table stopped talking and looked over at them with shocked expressions. "Maybe you should put up an ad next door at the Hidey-Hole."
Julia rolled her eyes and pretended like she wasn't offended by the statement. She picked at a piece of imaginary lint on her little, black skirt. The skirt, white lacey blouse, and four-inch pumps had been such a great find that she'd actually changed into the ensemble in the coffee shop restroom and stuffed her sweats into the shopping bags.
"We could go back in there and write down that guy's number. He has a nine inch dick," Whitney actually lowered her voice this time, but she was smiling again so Julia couldn't decide if she was joking or her Rob-induced, good mood had returned with a vengeance.
"Yeah, I'm sure he was telling the truth. I could walk into the store and write down on a little post-it note that I have a twelve-inch dick," Julia didn't know why she was so against Whitney's happiness. Maybe she was just a little jealous that she didn't have someone to dress up all sexy for.
The sole purpose of their little excursion had been to find Whitney some sleazy lingerie and some sexy toys for her and Rob to try out after their Valentine's Day date. Julia was sick to death of hearing all about how he was going to take her out for a candle-lit dinner, buy her some flowers, and fuck her brains out. She kinda hoped they both got crabs.
"Just think about it, you don't want to die a bitter, wrinkled up, bitch. You're not getting any younger," Whitney sniffed indignantly as she dug into her designer handbag and dropped some money on the table for their waitress. "I'm going home and doing some yoga, you're totally ruining my mood."
Julia just shrugged, she could do yoga until the cows came home and she'd still be irritating. She watched Whitney leave, watching as her name brand jeans clung to her backside. She was a little heavier than herself, but she had a pretty face and an endearing personality. Whitney's tits were a little bigger, too. Why couldn't she find a fantastic guy like Rob? She was prettier than Whitney, hands-down.
At twenty-six, she didn't see the urgent need to find some guy and settle down like Whitney. Whitney wanted a house in the suburbs and a litter of babies. Julia was too busy fast-tracking her literary career in editing. She had her hand in a number of bestsellers, and she was pretty damn proud of her efforts. She dreamed of founding her own media empire someday.
She reached across the table and retrieved her clutch, unlatching the little sequined thing and dropping some cash onto her check to cover it. She left a handsome tip even though the service hadn't been that great, and the coffee tasted like stale sink water.
She dropped her clutch into one of her shopping bags and walked outside. She was in such a bad mood that the summer sun didn't have a chance of improving her good mood. She'd moved to New York from Tennessee after accepting an intern position with a top literary agency, but she hadn't been too happy on the agent side of things.
She hesitated just outside of the Hidey-Hole. Maybe she should go in and take down some numbers. She could have some hot, anonymous sex with Nine-Inch-Cock Guy. Ultimately, she decided against it. What if the guy was some serial killer who only killed the desperate, perverted women who replied to his ad. Better not.
She stepped to the curb and hailed a cab. She usually enjoyed her day off with Whitney. Even when she wasn't at work on the weekends, she was busy at home with her laptop or eReader, reviewing chapters and sending notes to authors. Most of her authors thought she only wanted to hamper their creativity, in reality she only wanted to make their stories more marketable.
She finally caught a cabbie's attention and she hurriedly got inside. She gave him her address and checked her cell phone for messages. There were a few missed calls from her boss, but it wasn't something she had to attend to right away, it was her day off after all.
Her ride, thankfully, was uneventful and fast. She paid for her ride and carried her things into her building. The man at the door held the door for her and smiled as he greeted her. She returned his smile only because she felt obligated to do so. She usually took the stairs to the fourth floor, but she didn't feel up to the climb in her new heels. She reminded herself to never wear pumps out of the store again.
The elevator dinged open on her floor and she had to dig her keys out of her shopping bag, she really needed a big purse. She kicked the door shut behind her and dropped her bags down next to the door for the time being. She stepped out of her heels as she walked over to the couch in her living room so she could sit down and rub her aching feet.
She absolutely loved the open floor plan, and she felt like a fairy princess when she ascended the spiral staircase every night to her bedroom. The view of the city was also a big plus; one whole wall was nothing but window.
She took the clip out of her hair and combed her fingers through its length. She hadn't cut her hair in a while, so it had grown out well past her shoulders. She'd always felt a little plain with her brown hair and brown eyes.
She stretched out on her couch, resting her head on a decorative pillow. She could hear her answering machine beeping in the background. Maybe Whitney had called to apologize for her little dramatic outburst at the coffee shop. Valentine's Day Scrooge, what the fuck?
Before she even realized she was tired, she fell asleep. Her dreams were uneventful and she awoke in a slightly better mood. She sat up, the orange glow of the fireplace casting her in warmth. Fire? She hadn't built a fire.
She got to her feet and looked around. It was dark outside and she glanced at her watch to see that she'd been asleep for hours. The usual city sounds were drowned out by instrumental music playing from her iHome. She seriously hoped she'd sleep-walked.
She started towards the kitchen counter where she kept her phone, but her naked feet encountered something even more out of the ordinary. There were multi-colored rose pedals strewn all over the floor. "Hello?" she called out meekly. What kind of intruder broke in and the proceeded to create a romantic scene?
She followed the trail of rose pedals up to her bedroom and stopped dead in her tracks at the top. The most gorgeous man she'd ever seen was stretched out on her bed. "Hello Julia," he smiled at her and her insides melted.
"Umm...hello," she should probably run, but she couldn't make her body obey her commands. "Who are you?" She watched as he sipped a glass of champagne, taking his time to enjoy the taste. Lord, she'd love it if he would enjoy her with the same vigor. It was then that she noticed that the only thing keeping her from seeing this gorgeous man naked was her sheets draped haphazardly across his mid-section. She gulped.
