by Callie Cole
The tequila is doing what tequila is supposed to do—helping me forget. Feeling fine, I begin surveying the room to see if anyone catches my eye. I don’t have to look too far because to my left is the hottest looking guy I’ve seen in a long time.
He has a scruffy beard, and his bedhead look with just a touch of gray at the sides makes me wants to run my hands through his hair. His starched white shirt under his suit completes the look, and for a minute I see myself straddling his lap.
As attracted as I am to him he seems annoyed by our loud banter and I’m forced to forget my fantasy. The way he’s looking in our direction, I can tell he’d like us to shut the fuck up.
Lexi sees him, and I’m unable to stop the train wreck that is about to happen.
“What the hell are you looking at?”
He looks away, not wanting to engage with her.
“Lexi. Stop.”
Her voice is getting louder by the minute; everyone in the room can hear her.
“It’s still America, isn’t it? I mean, this is a public place. I’m entitled to my opinion aren’t I? Seriously, Tilly, you should have seen the look on that guy’s face. Looking down on us, who does he think he is?”
I try to calm her down, knowing full well that she is exaggerating and the alcohol is doing the talking. The poor guy just wants to be left alone.
My back to the stranger, I hear his voice.
“Tilly? Did you say your name is Tilly? It wouldn’t be Tilly Alden, would it?”
Apparently Lexi isn’t the only one who is three sheets to the wind.
I turn and look directly into his deep brown eyes.
“Yes. I’m Tilly Alden. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before. Who are you?”
“My name is Jack. Jack Baldwin.”
Instead of shaking my hand, he takes my hand in his, pulling me closer to him. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s being too familiar for my liking, and I worry that Lexi and Maura will jump him in two seconds if he doesn’t give me my hand back.
“I’d like to personally thank you for destroying my night.”
I pull my hand back and move away from him and onto my bar stool. Fortunately I have witnesses surrounding us, but I’m getting a bit nervous that this guy might be a psycho.
“Excuse me?”
“What are you, some kind of dating therapist or something? Who the hell do you think you are giving dating advice? I mean, look at you. You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You’ve got this incredible, thick, cascading hair, intense hazel eyes, the most adorable hint of freckles, and that body…”
His eyes are piercing, and his mouth is practically salivating, making me feel like a Thanksgiving turkey. I can feel myself getting hot, and I can’t tell which has me more concerned, my nipples hardening or that I might have a stalker.
Get a grip, Tilly. Are you that pathetic that a turkey reference can’t stop the wet between your legs?
He takes another swig of his drink and continues.
“There isn’t a guy in this place who would turn down a babe like you. You could have any guy you wanted, but for some reason, you’re here on a Friday night with your friends instead of being out with a guy. What a surprise. You’re probably going to say you’d rather be with your girlfriends. Is that really the truth? I think not. You probably scare off every guy that comes near you.”
Lexi and Maura are ready to pounce on this guy, but I stop them. “He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Let’s get out of here.”
We pay the bill, and as we walk to the exit, the guy at the bar turns to the people in the room, raises his glass, and yells out. “There she goes, everyone. Men, pay attention. Say goodbye to Ms. Tilly Alden, man-hater and future old maid. Good luck finding a man in this town!”
I have to pull Lexi and Maura out of the bar. I think if the guy wasn’t so drunk, I might have let my girls knock him on his ass.
Chapter 4
Jack
The light shines through the window and plants a beam right on my face. I’m still in my suit, face down on the bed, and I feel like my head is in a vise. I sit up on the bed and wonder why I don’t just stay here all day, and then I remember my tee time with Joshua this morning.
“Fuck.”
Coffee and a shower will help but won’t lessen my anger toward my brother. I blame him for last night. The date was bad enough, but what followed was even worse. I have a vague memory of an incredibly attractive woman and her girlfriends, who looked like they wanted to kill me.
“Tilly.” Just saying her name makes my dick move in my pants, which surprises me given the way that I feel right now.
My cell phone buzzes, and it’s my brother.
“Hey bro, are we still on for golf today? I haven’t heard from you. How’d it go with Gemma?”
“Don’t mess with me, bro. You know damn well how it went. What was that about? Are you pissed at me for something or what?”
“What are you talking about? No. I’m not pissed. I guess it didn’t go well?”
“That’s an understatement. The woman is scary intense. I don’t understand why she’s dating in the first place since it’s obvious she thinks every guy is an asshole.”
“I’m sorry, Jack. Really, it was unintentional. I thought you guys would hit it off. I haven’t heard anything bad about her from my colleagues, and trust me, they would have told me if she was a bitch. I know she’s one of the best attorneys in our office. They’re even talking partnership with her. She’s tough, I know that, but I guess that doesn’t translate well to dating.”
“No shit. She was tough all right. She made some reference to a woman named Tilly Alden. Have you ever heard of her?”
“Nope. Can’t say I have. Who is she?”
“Some dating guru that has a podcast. Seems she’s something of a man-hater or more accurately, man-eater. The type that chews men up and then spits them out when she’s finished with them, only to move onto the next guy. Based on the way Gemma acted last night, I’d say she’s a big fan. Anyway, it’s water under the bridge. I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Sounds good.”
“Oh, and Josh, dude, do me a favor? You suck at matchmaking, so stop trying to hook me up. I think I’ll do better on my own.
Laughing, Joshua says, “You got it.”
Before I get into the shower, I decide to google Tilly Alden. Information about her podcast and a photo of her pops up on my phone. She’s wearing a low-cut top, and her cleavage is inviting. Along with those incredible hazel eyes, I could stare at this picture all day. I download the podcast and subscribe, deciding to listen to a few episodes before I hit the links.
The podcast doesn’t have as much male-bashing as I thought it would. Instead it seems that people write in about past dates, and Tilly talks with another woman, someone named Maura Lewis, about their opinions on whether the woman should go on another date with the guy. Each episode has three stories they focus on, with a final thumbs up or thumbs down on the poor unsuspecting guy.
What bothers me about this podcast is that it would make better sense if Tilly had a male perspective. She shouldn’t be dissecting these dates with another woman, but instead, a man. The podcast comes off as if the women never do anything wrong. The guy is either a jerk and shouldn’t get another date or he’s misunderstood and therefore entitled to a second one.
What the hell? Does she really think she and her friend are objective? What makes Tilly an expert on dating anyway? What are her credentials? I’d love to know what her dating history looks like.
Once in the shower, I let the hot water run over my aching body. After two ibuprofen and a black coffee, I’m starting to come around. Heat and movement are getting my muscles to respond, and my thoughts turn to Tilly and her jaw-dropping curves.
My cock is getting hard just thinking about her, and the need to know more is becoming a real thing. I’ll spend more time investigating Tilly Alden tonig
ht and try to find a way to get a better understanding of the woman. She’s frustrating and exciting at the same time. Getting to know her intimately is becoming more appealing by the minute.
What that woman needs is a good fuck, and it wouldn’t hurt if she begs me while I’m doing her from behind.
A plan starts to form. I’ve got to learn what makes Tilly Alden tick. I want to know everything about her.
Her days of complaining about men are over. I predict that Ms. Alden’s podcast will be shutting down sometime within the next six months.
I’m an advertising executive, for God’s sake. I can talk anyone into anything. It’s what I do for a living. I’ve got this. Men all over New York City will praise my name and possibly erect a statue in the middle of Central Park. Peeling Tilly Alden out of her panties is the least I can do for mankind.
Chapter 5
Tilly
When I began the podcast, it took me all of five minutes to decide on a name for it. It’s Not You…Oh Wait…It Is You was the obvious choice.
For several months after that horrible day I wallowed in self-pity. It was pathetic to see, but I couldn’t get over the embarrassment of standing in front of friends and family while Melody Meyer stood in the middle of the church proclaiming her love for my fiancé. A love that turned out to be mutual.
More details followed with evidence that Sean and Melody had been sleeping together for more than four months prior to the wedding. My first thought and question for Sean was, “Did you at least wear a condom?”
I didn’t like the answer, and immediately got tested for any and every possible STD I could. It was a bizarre mixture of grief and anger. I couldn’t stand one more day of the pitiful faces staring back at me, and so I decided to go back to the city and my job.
Fortunately, I’d kept my apartment, which was always the plan. We had started looking at real estate in New Rochelle, but I could tell that Sean seemed less than enthusiastic about it.
Leaving my small hometown in Connecticut, I was able to find a tiny bit of peace in my life. Getting back to my normal routine seemed the right choice, but nothing felt normal at all.
My co-workers in our accounting firm didn’t make eye contact with me for about two weeks. With the help of my best friends, in time I moved on, but the anger lingers to this day.
I pour a second cup of coffee and put my glasses on. I print out every form entry and carry the pile of papers to the table. I go through several letters but hardly make a dent in the stack. The pounding at my temples is making it hard to concentrate. Unable to focus, my thoughts return to the guy at the bar last night. He had a sensual aura about him, and I could tell he was troubled about something. Why the hell did he say I had destroyed his night? It wasn’t hard to figure that it had something to do with a woman.
Maybe someone I talked about on the podcast?
I always run the risk of pissing guys off, but I had assumed most of the men we talk about have no idea the podcast even exists.
Is it possible I’ve got more men listening in than I realize?
I grab my phone and call Maura. She answers her cell and sounds sleepy.
“Hey, sorry it’s so early. Did I wake you?”
“Nah, I have to get up anyway. What’s up?”
“You remember that guy at the bar last night?”
“You mean the one who practically ruined any chance of us going back to Dive in the future? I’d say he was shady as fuck.”
“Yeah, him. I was just thinking. Why would he be so angry at me? I’ve never met him before, but clearly he was really pissed once he heard my name.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Well, I was thinking. The only thing he could know about me is the podcast, which means that some woman has told him about me. Maybe a date or a girlfriend or his wife? Or maybe the guy actually listens to the podcast.”
“Anything is possible. So what?”
“Why not invite men to write in? Maybe not equal time but something more than we’re doing right now.”
“Tilly, this is a podcast for women.”
“I know that, but don’t you think women can benefit from hearing a guy’s point of view? Maybe there’s something to be learned from it. Besides, we can pick and choose the ones we think would make the podcast better. Right now, not every entry makes it onto the podcast. We’d handle the emails from men the same way.”
“But how are we going to get the word out?”
“That’s my point. We just announce it on the podcast because men are definitely listening. I see it on the reviews.
Men wouldn’t be reviewing if they weren’t listening. We’re not paying enough attention to the possibilities here. We’re going to lose some credibility if we keep going the way we are. If we don’t change, we’re going to come off as pissed-off women who aren’t getting laid. Not to mention the fact that I’d like to increase our followers. This is a perfect way to do it.”
Maura almost always is my voice-of-reason benchmark. If she thinks something won’t work, she’s usually right. This time, she agrees right away.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Awesome. So get your ass over here, and let’s work out the announcement and get it ready to go. I love this.”
“I’m on my way, but not before I stop and get us a few pastries and I get my cappuccino.”
“I’ve got a pot of coffee brewing, and we can send out for pizza later. Come on, girl. You’re going to thank me for being so brilliant.”
“We’ll see how brilliant you are, Tilly. Be careful what you wish for. This one might bite you in the ass before it’s finished.”
I hang up and throw my glasses on the table. Pumping my fist in the air, I’m excited about this new plan. I’ve no idea what a Pandora’s box I’ve just opened.
Chapter 6
Jack
Morris Falls is only two hours away from New York City. It’s nestled not far from Mystic, Connecticut and is as quaint as you could imagine a small town to be. With a town center that if you blinked you’d miss it, Morris Falls is comprised of a post office, a country store, a diner, and several mom-and-pop shops. The town green with its gazebo is so picturesque a photo of it could be on a post card.
After spending countless hours researching Ms. Alden online, there is only so much the internet can do. I decide the best way to get to know Tilly would be to talk to the people who know her best, and what better place to find said people than the town where she grew up?
On the drive to Morris Falls, I listen to the latest episode of It’s Not You…Oh Wait…It Is You.
Tilly makes an announcement that the podcast will be changing. She is inviting men to write in and plans to share with her listeners the male perspective.
I smile when she and Maura discuss their experience with a gentleman who was less than pleased with Tilly and her podcast. Not willing to give specific details on our encounter, I can only assume she is talking about me.
A couple of nights in this town, and I should have all I need to get this women into my bed and under my body.
I find a small bed and breakfast and let the owner of the place know why I’m in Morris Falls. The sooner I can get the word out that I’m writing an article about Tilly and her podcast, the faster word should spread. Small towns are like that. You can move information faster in a small town than a conspiracy theory on the internet.
Sure enough, before long I’m directed to several people who know Tilly well. A couple of friends from high school, a teacher, two former boyfriends, her dentist, and the pastor of her church are the first to share their knowledge of Tilly Alden. All that on the first day.
Once word spreads that I’m writing an article about her, anyone who knew her wants to meet with me.
The information I gather on the first day is helpful, but I’ve really hit the jackpot once I talk to her parents. I didn’t need to contact them. Their pastor called them as soon as I left the church, and before long, Tilly’s mom
and dad ask to meet me at their home.
Approaching the Alden home, I see a farmhouse, complete with wraparound porch adorned with rocking chairs and hanging flower baskets. I can imagine Tilly as a little girl, playing in the yard.
I’ve a skill for making people comfortable in the most awkward situations, and today is no different. I’m sure I’ll have them eating out of my hands within the first two minutes.
“Thank you for meeting me. I’ve met so many wonderful people already. It’s clear to see where Tilly gets her good nature and charm.”
Her father speaks first. “So you are writing about Tilly’s podcast? I assume that means you approve of the things she talks about on that show?”
Maybe I’ve overestimated my charm.
Her mother speaks next.
“We’ve only listened to one of her shows. My sister Evelyn came over and put it on my cell phone. We listened to the first one, but I think I blushed through the whole thing. It was too much for us, so I asked Evelyn to remove it.
Some of the things they say on that show are too much. Lots of talk about sex, and we don’t talk like that. We feel a bit embarrassed about it because we know everyone in town listens.
They know how we feel, so they have the good manners not to bring it up. I suppose you like that sort of thing?”
“Well, it’s a popular podcast, Mrs. Alden. Many people, especially women, seem to think it helps them. Times are changing.”
Tilly’s father looks at me directly in an almost confrontational way.
“We understand times are changing, Mr. Baldwin, but we like to try to keep things the way we feel they should be around here. Tilly’s always had her own mind about stuff. She can be stubborn. We never liked the man she was engaged to. It wasn’t our choice, of course, but in the end, I was right about that guy.”
Trying to seem like I know what they’re talking about, I nod my head in agreement. Convinced I haven’t lost my ability to pull information out of someone, I persist.
