with me.”
Tasha sends me a derisive glance. “I mean, I know what he wants, I’ve been playing this game for far too long … I can sense attraction better than anyone, but it’s just …” I sigh.
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Do I really have to remind you how many broken hearts you have under your belt? And I’m referring to just the last couple of years.” She wrinkles her nose, and continues with, “You’re such a sweet, witty, beautiful and intelligent person.”
I beam at her. “Well, my dear, you couldn’t be more objective.”
“How do you feel about all of this?” she asks, her expression turning solemn.
“He’s intriguing and charming in a bad boy kind of way,” I say, pondering, “and absolutely hot. He acts as though it’s more than just plain attraction, but I’m pretty sure he’s the biggest player.”
“Oh, a male version of you.”
“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Well, just do him, like Ian suggested, and go from there.” She concludes in an assertive tone, effortlessly dismissing the doubt in subject.
“But you know how I feel about that … been there, done that. You know better than anyone what I’m not looking for.”
Who better than Tasha knows about my sordid history? About how, for the last few years, by choice, I didn’t have a “relationship” that lasted longer than one night , longer than an orgasm …
She fixes her framed white Jackie O. sunglasses, adjusting them on the bridge of her pointy nose. “Hales, I know that you’ve stopped fucking for nothing. But make an exception with this irresistible, virile, mega-attractive guy, one last time. And by all means, girl, don’t make it more than it is,” she states, putting to words what we both think. She does have a talent for doing that.
“Fucking for nothing,” I snicker. “Classy.” Tasha mirrors my amused stare.
Pulling the car to a stop, she turns to me and says, “Come on, he’s incredibly sexy. Hell, he’s Daniel ‘Hottie’ Stark.” She grins. “My best friend is going to do Daniel Stark.”
I can’t help but laugh at her cheerful declaration.
“We have all these indecent plans for him and I’m not even sure he’ll call again,” I murmur. “If there’s something I cannot do, it’s anticipating this guy.” Given our brief history, I sigh deeply.
Perhaps I should just call him up and say, Hey Daniel, the unanimous verdict has been rendered—I am to do you, let’s fuck?
Chapter 7: The Very Last Time
“Honey, I’m home,” I call out.
“In the shower,” Tasha yells back, a bit too loudly.
Realizing I haven’t eaten today I prepare myself a small dinner of goat cheese, artichoke hearts in olive oil, and some crackers.
“What’s up with your phone? Is it dead?” Tasha asks, approaching me, towel around her head, wearing her silk blue nightgown, her face still pink from the shower.
“What do you mean? Did you try to reach me?”
“Just about a hundred times, nothing serious,” she replies, her eyes dancing with disquiet. Recognizing this look of hers, I know she has something to share with me, and she’s thrilled about it, whatever it is. I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and find out it was switched off, probably for some time now.
“What is it? What’s with the I’ve-got-something-to-tell-you look, Tash?” I ask her, taking another bite from my cracker. I watch the tiny crumbs as they fall down on the counter and immediately brush them off. She leans against the mosaic pole that secures our kitchen counter.
“I was called for an interview at Stark Software earlier today.”
“Oh,” is the only thing I manage to articulate, all of a sudden feeling somewhat insecure. Perhaps Daniel is interested in her too … What’s up with me?
“With Mrs. Greenich,” Tasha emphasizes, as if reading my mind. I wince, feeling uncomfortable with my previous, embarrassing thought. Was I that
Tasha sends me a derisive glance. “I mean, I know what he wants, I’ve been playing this game for far too long … I can sense attraction better than anyone, but it’s just …” I sigh.
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Do I really have to remind you how many broken hearts you have under your belt? And I’m referring to just the last couple of years.” She wrinkles her nose, and continues with, “You’re such a sweet, witty, beautiful and intelligent person.”
I beam at her. “Well, my dear, you couldn’t be more objective.”
“How do you feel about all of this?” she asks, her expression turning solemn.
“He’s intriguing and charming in a bad boy kind of way,” I say, pondering, “and absolutely hot. He acts as though it’s more than just plain attraction, but I’m pretty sure he’s the biggest player.”
“Oh, a male version of you.”
“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Well, just do him, like Ian suggested, and go from there.” She concludes in an assertive tone, effortlessly dismissing the doubt in subject.
“But you know how I feel about that … been there, done that. You know better than anyone what I’m not looking for.”
Who better than Tasha knows about my sordid history? About how, for the last few years, by choice, I didn’t have a “relationship” that lasted longer than one night , longer than an orgasm …
She fixes her framed white Jackie O. sunglasses, adjusting them on the bridge of her pointy nose. “Hales, I know that you’ve stopped fucking for nothing. But make an exception with this irresistible, virile, mega-attractive guy, one last time. And by all means, girl, don’t make it more than it is,” she states, putting to words what we both think. She does have a talent for doing that.
“Fucking for nothing,” I snicker. “Classy.” Tasha mirrors my amused stare.
Pulling the car to a stop, she turns to me and says, “Come on, he’s incredibly sexy. Hell, he’s Daniel ‘Hottie’ Stark.” She grins. “My best friend is going to do Daniel Stark.”
I can’t help but laugh at her cheerful declaration.
“We have all these indecent plans for him and I’m not even sure he’ll call again,” I murmur. “If there’s something I cannot do, it’s anticipating this guy.” Given our brief history, I sigh deeply.
Perhaps I should just call him up and say, Hey Daniel, the unanimous verdict has been rendered—I am to do you, let’s fuck?
Chapter 7: The Very Last Time
“Honey, I’m home,” I call out.
“In the shower,” Tasha yells back, a bit too loudly.
Realizing I haven’t eaten today I prepare myself a small dinner of goat cheese, artichoke hearts in olive oil, and some crackers.
“What’s up with your phone? Is it dead?” Tasha asks, approaching me, towel around her head, wearing her silk blue nightgown, her face still pink from the shower.
“What do you mean? Did you try to reach me?”
“Just about a hundred times, nothing serious,” she replies, her eyes dancing with disquiet. Recognizing this look of hers, I know she has something to share with me, and she’s thrilled about it, whatever it is. I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and find out it was switched off, probably for some time now.
“What is it? What’s with the I’ve-got-something-to-tell-you look, Tash?” I ask her, taking another bite from my cracker. I watch the tiny crumbs as they fall down on the counter and immediately brush them off. She leans against the mosaic pole that secures our kitchen counter.
“I was called for an interview at Stark Software earlier today.”
“Oh,” is the only thing I manage to articulate, all of a sudden feeling somewhat insecure. Perhaps Daniel is interested in her too … What’s up with me?
“With Mrs. Greenich,” Tasha emphasizes, as if reading my mind. I wince, feeling uncomfortable with my previous, embarrassing thought. Was I that
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