Page 4 of Intoxicated
I look beyond stupid. Except… it works.
“Guess so, Cher.” He likes saying my name. “What do you do, exactly?”
The glint in his eyes tells all.“Please say stripper. Or escort. Or model. Cam girl? I bet you’re a cam girl, honey.”No, I’m not going to give him any of those. For one, I don’t want him immediately treating this like I’m looking for a transaction. For another, I know his type. He wants the bubbly girl he grew up with. The one who was his first love at thirteen when he realized why his little dick always embarrassed him in history class. I’m the first girl he thinks about when he jacks off. I’m that unobtainable high.
He knows he canbuya girl like that whenever he wants, but I’ll be the woman he’s charmed into a genuine relationship.That’swhen the wallet comes out.
“I work remotely,” is all I say. It tells him enough without piquing his interest. Then again, he might still think I’m a cam girl.
Besides, I want Brian to talk about himself.Allabout himself. I’m the dream girl right now. The one who never wants to talk about herself, because he’ssoooooofascinating! Way more interesting than me! I’m only a boring girl who needs an exciting boyfriend in her life. One who will spoil her silly because she’s never had anything like that in her life, and now he’s the coolest guy on Earth. I’ll play up inexperience in the bedroom if he’ll fall for it. (I admit, that’s one of my weak spots. You get used to playing the near-virgin so you know how to act like one, but when you’ve slept with enough guys, you forget what it’s like to be a virgin. For real.)
The more Brian talks, the more buzzed on his cocktails he gets… the more I learn about him. Every word he says, every mannerism he picks up? I’m adding it to my little spot in my brain reserved for this tech guy namedBrian.I shall use this information to model myself more into his perfect girlfriend. I will chameleon myself until I’m completely unrecognizable from the last girlfriend I pretended to be. He’ll be so putty in my hands that I can ask him to pay my rent for the next three months and he won’t think twice about it. He’ll be grateful that I want to keep my own place instead of moving in with him right away. (Never move in with them, ladies. Don’t give up your cute one-bedroom in Northwest Portland for any man.) If he has other women who aren’t supposed to know about me, then we have a convenient crash pad. I will know aboutthem,though. Either he’ll tell me, or I’ll figure out how many and how important they are to him in about three weeks. My next objective will be to decide if it’s worth becoming his #1 focus or moving on to the next guy.
Remember, Brian. I’m not a woman who can be bought. Not the way you’re thinking about it. I’m a woman you’veearned.You’ve been working so hard at your job, right? What has it gotten you? Mild respect? A few nice suits? Your favorite bars you and your buddies hit on a Saturday night when you’re done with brunch at the trendy spots on Hawthorne? (Or are we doing Broadway hotspots now?) Your cozy little apartment you pay way too much for, but you’re within walking distance of Powell’s Books? You take the occasional trip, but your work hates it when you’re gone for more than one day, so you stick close to Portland. Maybe Seattle for a business trip. You work so hard. You’ve got all this money. But you can’t get the hot girl you know you deserve. Where is she, huh? Is it because Portland is full of hairy feminists who call themselves Queer before they’ll call themselves your honey? Or is it because the hotter, richer guys in this town have plucked all the pretty girls for themselves? Oh, Brian. It must be so hard. Yet what if I told you it didn’t have to be that way anymore? I can soothe some of those ails. I can suck your dick when you get home from work and dinner still cooks on the stove. I can wear cute little outfits as the weather heats up and you prance me around sushi restaurants and boutique ice cream shops. Want to help me try on new bikinis for our trip to Mexico? Ooh, I bet you do, Brian. I bet you want the girl of your dreams.
The one youdeserve.
We exchange numbers before he insists on heading home to get some much-needed sleep. It’s for the best. I want him to go to sleep thinking about how much he regrets not asking me out right there, but he’ll ask me out tomorrow. We’ll go out Sunday afternoon, kiss at sunset, and… well, if I’m in a good mood, I’ll give him a big preview of what he gets from me as his girlfriend. Depends how he handles himself, though. I may decide he’s not worth it by then.
Brian slinks away, his gaze over his shoulder as he gets one last look at me. I twiddle my fingers and continue to smile in his direction. As soon as he turns the corner, I drop my exhausting façade and blow some air out of my cheeks. So ladylike. So beautiful. That’s me.
“What?” I ask the bartender, who is judging me with the full force of his face. “Can I get another one of these?” I shake my empty Old Fashioned. “I need it.”
He moves out of the way to grab the bottle. I now have an unobstructed view of the man sitting along the wall on the other side of the room.
Hello.
I’ve never seen him before. Is that… Armani? A Blancpain watch? My goodness. That belt is made of real leather, isn’t it? What a mighty fine five o’clock shadow this gentleman, currently staring at his iPhone as if he has nothing better to do, has. I do love a little scruff on a hot guy. He’s quite… cut as well, isn’t he?
Whoa. I definitely need that drink. Brian may have left me bored in the heart and loins, but one glance at this mysterious stranger has me thinking about all sorts of dirty things. That’s rare anymore. When you’ve had sex with as many boring, mediocre fools as I have, it takes the fun out of a casual roll in the hay with a “normal” guy. Anymore, I wonder what the point is.
I’m kinda thinking about the point as I look at this man over here.
He happens to look up from his phone and meet my gaze. Immediately, I look away, pretending to be sidetracked by the ice in my empty glass. The bartender brings me a fresh Old-Fashioned. I thank him. When I look back at the table, the man is already gone.
Musk envelops me. My favorite scent. The most masculine scent alive, if you ask me.
I look to my right. There’s the hot guy, glass in his hand while the other props himself against the counter. Muscles ripple up his arms and disappear into the rolled-up cuffs of his sleeve. The fine craftsmanship of his watch momentarily distracts me from the delicious abs cut beneath his white Armani shirt. His trousers are tailored, but that only highlights the delightful package he’s toting more.
Careful, Cher. We didn’t come here to get laid. Although this guy speaks directly to the kind I’m usually after.
He’s definitely…rich.Armani. Blancpain. Tailored clothes and spectacular grooming. A body he’s taken good care of, as if he has no one to impress anymore but himself.
I could eat him for dessert tonight. Lick that hard stomach and gaze into those big blue eyes as I drive my cunt onto the length of his cock.
“I know it’s not any of my business,” a cool, nonchalant voice says, “but I couldn’t help but notice the young man you were talking to.” He lowers his lips to my ear. Shudders claim me as his breath touches my skin. “He’d be a giant waste of your time.”
I’m listening…
