Page 9 of Man Seeking Woman

"Excuse me?" I asked, unsure what the hell he was talking about.

Pointing at the tattoo on the top of my foot, he repeated himself. "Praying mantis."

"Oh, yeah." Running nervous fingers across my head, I pulled a few loose pieces of hair behind my ear. "It's supposed to bring me luck, but I'm still waiting for that."

The man bit his bottom lip and placed his hand on the bench between us. "It's sexy." His voice went low as I felt him lean in closer. "You uh, you work in this area?"

"Occasionally," I said, looking further up the street, trying to find the bus in the sea of cars. I was ready to be off that bench, on the bus home, and away from that man.

I was trying to stay calm, neutral, and not give him a reason to get angry or upset. Instant bitch wasn't always a good thing, especially if the person you were dealing with was a complete stranger.

That man's temper could live on a short fuse, and I certainly didn't want to light it.

"Are you looking for work today?"

Pursing my lips, I shot him a look. "What are you asking me exactly?"

"Oh come on, don't play with me. I'm not a cop, you don't need to pretend." Lifting a finger to my thigh, he started to rub my skin gently. "I know what you are, and I'm a man who's in need."

Oh no fucking way! Screw being polite.

Jumping up from the bench, I took long steps away from him. "I don't know what made you think this, but I amnota prostitute." Holding up both my hands, my lip curled angrily. "Why don't you go find a dark corner and fuck yourself." Stepping off the sidewalk, I practically threw myself in front of the taxi coming by, waving my hands frantically for him to stop.

Quickly, I climbed into the back of the cab and locked the door. My skin crawled as the man watched me, his eyes empty and angry that he was shot down.

"Just drive," I snapped, keeping an eye on the man. I didn't want him to try and get in with me, and I didn't want to give him the chance to grab a taxi and follow me home.

As the taxi pulled back into traffic, the man stood up and gave me the middle finger. Rolling down the window, I threw my hand out and gave him the bird back.

Maybe it was the day I was having, or maybe it was just the fact I felt a little spiteful, but that single motion made me feel better. Today was just not my day at all.

How much more shit could possibly go wrong?

Walking into my apartement, I set my keys and purse down on the counter. There was a piece of paper with my name on it folded and tucked into the fruit bowl. Picking it up, Kayla had left me a short note, thanking me for taking the time to listen to her and telling me that if I needed anything at all, not to hesitate to ask.

I knew she was offering me money, but I'd never ask her for that. And she knew it, which was why she offered it this way and not the night before after I slapped down even the idea of it.

Kayla had a privledged life, her family had money, and lots of it. You'd never know that if you met her, which was one of the reasons I liked her.

She didn't judge you, she never threw her wealth in your face or took it for granted. Kayla was a good person. And because she was such a good person, people would try and take advantage of her. That's why it killed me inside she put up with Justin for as long as she had.

Setting down her note, I kicked off my heels and trudged into my living room, collapsing onto my small couch.

The newpaper was folded up on the coffee table, grabbing my attention. Reaching out, I pulled it into my lap, and glanced over the front page. My mind kept going back to that ad and wondering what the job was actually for.

It could be a nanny job, or a housekeeper. . .

No, don't be stupid. Kayla's right, it's probably just some guy looking to get laid.

Placing it back on the table, I laid my arm over my head, covering my eyes. I had to really come up with a plan, I needed steady work and I needed it fast.

I could waitress, or maybe get a part time job at the bar up the road.

Peeking under my arm at the newspaper, the urge to look at the ad again was too much to ignore. Picking it back up, I opened it to the classifieds section, and read the ad for man seeking woman again. The more I read it, the only thing I could see was the money. It was a job, a job that could give me an income, a position that might help me stay afloat until teaching started to pay the bills.

I'm not going back home. A job is a job.

Tapping the box, I bit my lip as my eyes kept scanning the small type. The ad could be innocent, it could be a position for a house cleaner or someone to run errands, maybe he was a single dad and just needed an extra hand. The list could go on and on.

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