The Virgin Romance Novelist

by Meghan Quinn

  “Well, share, what’s with the dick?”

  “Some guy sent me a picture of himself on this dating website. Clearly, I won’t be responding.”

  “Why not? He looks yummy.”

  “Jenny, all you can see is his penis.”

  “Exactly, what else do you need to see?”

  “You’re impossible. It’s a no for this guy,” I said, while taking one last look at the throbby looking meat sword. I deleted his message and wondered, did all dicks look that veiny up close? It seemed like his dick was being stretched to its limit. Was that really what a boner was like?

  “You’re missing the dick, aren’t you?” she asked, mistaking my thinking for longing.

  “No, that thing was too much.” Wanting to change the subject, I asked, “Is there something you need?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “Just wanted to see how you were since the whole kick to the crotch situation.”

  “I’m fine. I actually went on a date Saturday night and have a date tonight. I feel bad for Atticus, but I can understand why he wouldn’t call me back. I don’t hold it against him.”

  “He had a good time. He said he was going to call you,” Jenny said with a cringe.

  “It’s alright, Jenny, you don’t have to lie to me. I know the boy is in hiding. He wants nothing to do with me.”

  “That’s not entirely true. He’s out of town right now. But I think he planned on calling you when he got back.”

  “Sure,” I rolled my eyes and looked back at my computer. I opened up Greg’s email and smiled to myself when a picture of him and his dog popped up. Greg had blonde hair and brown eyes, almost had a Bradley Cooper type feel to him. He was quite attractive and his dog was some kind of Australian Shepherd.

  “I can see you’re busy, just wanted to make sure you were okay after what happened Friday night.”

  “Thanks, Jenny. I’m okay. I have a date tonight that I’m looking forward to, so it makes up for my rampant feet.”

  “Are you done with that article?” Gladys croaked from the hallway as she walked by with her limp and strangely grey hair.

  “Almost,” I called back.

  “Good, have it on my desk no later than six.”

  With a cough that almost sounded like the clearing of a hair ball, she thumped back to her office while holding a cat to her side, Mr. Wigglebottom.

  “These are terrible working conditions,” Jenny whispered to me before leaving me, making me laugh.

  It was true. There were too many cats, Gladys was a loose cannon, just carrying cats around the office by their scruff. And then there was the bullying, the fact that we were all tortured and abused by Sir Lick-a-Lot and his posse. The urge to write my book became more prevalent with each passing day. I felt comfortable with my plot. It was a going to be a New Adult story about two college friends who fall in love with each other after they graduate, kind of an ode to my relationship with Henry, minus the falling in love part.

  Before I went to finish my article, I took a quick look at Greg’s message and then Alejandro’s.

  Hey Rosie,

  Here is Bear and me at the beach in Delaware. It’s gorgeous there. Bear loves running up and down the beach with his favorite Frisbee in his mouth. It’s not often he gets to have free range, since we live in the city, but when we have the space, I let him run free. He’s always good about coming back, so no need to worry.

  I see that you work at a cat magazine. Does that mean you’re a cat person? I really hope not. I don’t hate cats, but come on, how could you not love a dog better? They would do anything for you.

  I know it’s kind of early, but I would love to meet you in person. Are you free Friday night? If I’m too abrupt, just let me know. We can talk more about the small things until you’re comfortable.

  Hope you’re having a great day, Rosie.

  Greg

  God, he was so cute. I wrote him a quick note back, letting him know I was free Friday. Might as well tack on one more date, since I hadn’t heard from Lance, and Atticus was out of the picture.

  After quickly sending the message to Greg, I clicked over to Alejandro’s message, where he gave me the directions for where to meet. We had a date for six, and if I was going to make it, I had to bust ass and get this article done. Thankfully, I brought a change of clothes in case I didn’t have time to make it back to my apartment, which was what seemed to be happening.

  I spent the next hour and a half writing and rewriting the last five secrets a cat keeps from you. The whole time I refrained from swearing and talking to my walls about what a stupid article it was, but I powered through and was able to print out a copy and put it on Gladys’s desk, who was passed out at the moment with a cat sleeping on her rather large breasts.

  I tiptoed out of her office and went back to mine, where I grabbed my bag of clothes to change into and went into the bathroom down the hall from my office.

  Delaney had helped picked out an outfit for me. She said Alejandro would probably want to see me in something sexy and red, so we went with a pair of tight black skinny jeans, black heels, and a red tank that was cut low on my chest.

  Changing in record time, I grabbed my items and checked myself out in the mirror. My hair was already curled, so I just added a black headband and touched up my makeup. I also added a pop of red lipstick to go with my shirt. The overall look was perfect. I was pretty sure Alejandro was going to be impressed. Now I just had to get out of the office without getting cat hair all over my pants.

  I gathered my items and opened the bathroom door to leave, but stopped in my tracks when I spotted Sir Licks-a-Lot with his pussy cat posse sitting behind him, just staring at me.

  Instantly, I was transported to West Side Story, where the Jets walked the streets and snapped their fingers as they scared people away.

  I swear I saw Sir Licks-a-Lot lift his paw and start snapping as he stared me down, eying the black of my pants.

  “Don’t you even think about it,” I warned. “I have a date, and I can’t have cat hair all over my pants; I didn’t bring a lint roller.”

  Sir Licks-a-Lot lifted his paw at me while letting out a hideous meow. Pretty sure he just flipped me off, just before he started walking toward me with the pussy cat posse following closely behind.

  “Don’t,” I grew panicky as the walls of the hallway started to close in. Was I really this terrified of a cat?

  Considering the look in Sir Licks-a-Lot’s eyes, I was; I was deathly terrified of what the crazed feline might do.

  “Psssst,” I started saying, while swinging my bag back and forth and walking forward. I repeatedly told myself to show no weakness. He could smell weakness. “Psssssst! Shoo, get out of here, you demon.”

  “Meow, rarara,” Sir Licks-a-Lot responded, while crouching down in a hunting position.

  “No!” I shrieked like a lunatic and took off running toward them, trying to use the element of surprise. The pussy cat posse scampered away, but Sir Licks-a-Lot held his ground and leapt in the air, right at my crotch with his claws out. With the best reflexes I had, I moved my bag in front of me, just in time to block Sir Licks-a-Lot.

  “Ha, nice try, you bastard,” I said, while walking toward my office.

  It wasn’t until he clawed my hand that I realized he’d attached himself to my bag like a piece of Velcro and held on for his damn life.

  “Ack, get,” I yelled at him, while shaking my bag, but he held on strong. I didn’t have time to fight with the beast, so I tossed the clothing bag to the side, with him attached, grabbed my purse from my desk, and sprinted toward the lobby, where I frantically pressed the elevator button. I turned toward my office and saw Sir Licks-a-Lot peek his head out of my doorway and spot me. Like a predator, he started walking toward me with only thoughts of spreading mounds and mounds of cat hair on my pants.

  “Come on, come on,” I spoke to the elevator as he drew closer.

  The magical bing of the elevator door sounded off and the doors
opened. Quickly, I got in and started pressing the lobby button as quickly as possible. The doors started to shut and that’s when I called out to Sir Licks-a-Lot.

  “Ha, ha, you little shit, nice try! You and your pussy cat posse can go to hell.”

  Just as the last words flew out of my mouth, the elevator doors closed and I rested against the wall.

  “Interesting work environment,” a deep voice sounded from the other side of the elevator, scaring the ever living piss right out of me.

  My body flew against the side, and my hand held onto my chest, right where my heart was beating at a rapid pace.

  “Oh, my goodness, I didn’t see you there,” I said to a dark-haired man wearing a suit and eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Sorry, I suppose. Should I warn you next time you enter an elevator?”

  “No, sorry, I was just distracted.”

  “By that terrifying cat? I can see why. I’m guessing you work at Friendly Felines.”

  “I do, unfortunately,” I admitted and shrugged my shoulders. “It pays the bills, but sometimes, like tonight, I wonder if I would be better off being a waitress. I wouldn’t have to deal with demon-possessed cats.”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t be able to meet strange men in the elevator like me,” he smiled a very bright white smile.

  “Is that a pick up line?” I asked, slightly confused.

  “Was it that bad?” he winced.

  “No, I think I just might be dense,” I laughed.

  He held out his hand and said, “Phillip.”

  “Rosie,” I replied, shaking his strong and very large hand.

  “What a beautiful name, Rosie. How come I’ve never met you in the elevator before?”

  “I normally don’t work this late, but I had a deadline and procrastinated too much today. So, here I am, leaving the office late.”

  “Makes sense. Why were you running away from that cat? You seemed slightly crazy, yelling at it through the crack of the elevator doors.”

  Laughing, I replied, “I didn’t want to get cat hair all over my black pants. I forgot my lint roller.”

  Normally, I would rather drop dead than talk to a guy in an elevator, only because I’ve been extremely shy my entire life when it came to the opposite sex, but with my new goal in life, I was feeling more confident. Hence, I was able to carry on a conversation without sweating a pool for the cats in the office to swim in.

  Nodding in understanding, he eyed my pants, and then my entire outfit. His perusal sent a wave of heat through my body. He wasn’t very subtle at all.

  “Wouldn’t want to ruin those pants.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? Instead of coming up with something intelligent to say, I giggled like an idiot and waited for the doors to open.

  Once the doors opened, I looked back up at Phillip, smiled cordially, and then took off toward the subway.

  I heard his steps following behind me, causing me to sweat instantly. I didn’t like people I barely knew following me. Visions of him pulling me into a dark alley and having his way with me crossed through my mind. I went to reach for my phone when I realized I’d left it up in my office.

  “Hey,” Phillip called from behind me.

  “Please don’t steal me,” I said, while cringing and putting my hands up.

  “What?” he stopped in his tracks.

  I peeked through my hands and noticed he was holding onto the piece of paper that held my directions.

  “You, uh, dropped this.”

  Feeling like a complete moron, I took the paper and apologized. “I’m sorry. I just…I have an overactive imagination.”

  “So, you thought I was going to steal you? Do people even steal grown adults?”

  “Maybe?” I asked.

  A small smile spread across his face before he said, “Well, I’ll keep an eye out for such a thing. Have a good time at Manny’s. They have the best tacos.”

  “Thanks,” I said, as I glanced down at the paper. “Any taco suggestions?”

  “I’m a real man and go with the beef tacos, but I heard their fish tacos are good too. Watch out for their margaritas, though. They are good, but can knock you on your ass.”

  “Got it, thank you, Phillip, and sorry I’m such a freak.”

  “You’re not a freak, Rosie. You’re quite the opposite. Hope to see you around.”

  He waved a small good bye and then took off toward the curb and hailed a cab. He moved with such confidence, it was hard not to watch him. For some reason, I almost wished it was Phillip I was going to have tacos with, because he seemed like he would be good company, plus he was very attractive. I could see myself really liking him.

  Shaking my thoughts, I followed the directions to Manny’s. It didn’t take too long, it was a quick ride and a couple of blocks’ walk. I arrived just on time.

  The restaurant was quite quaint. It had some twinkle lights hanging outside and the inside was vibrant with orange, yellow, and red gracing the walls. There was a bar, where the infamous margaritas were made, that was lined against one side of the wall and there were big string lights hanging from the ceiling, crisscrossing from wall to wall, providing a lovely ambiance.

  In Alejandro’s letter, he said he would be wearing a black sweater, so I looked around for the man I remembered from the profile picture sporting a black sweater.

  “Hello, Rosie,” a deep, very accented voice came from behind me. I turned to see Alejandro standing behind me, holding a single rose and wearing a black sweater. The V-neck of the sweater showed off some chest hair, but nothing that was too distracting, and his hair was slicked back, giving me a great view of his deep brown eyes. He was a Spanish dream.

  “Alejandro?” I asked, while gulping. This man almost seemed too exotic for me, with his intoxicating after shave, deep sultry voice, and suave appeal.

  “Yes, querida. Don’t you recognize me?”

  “I do. I just wasn’t expecting for your voice to be so sexy.”

  Oh, my God, did I just say that?

  A devastating smile crossed his face at my compliment.

  “Come,” he demanded as he grabbed my arm and led me to a table in the back, where there was plenty of privacy. His warm touch had me shivering in place as he guided me. His strong hand held on tightly, not applying too much pressure, just enough to let me know he was taking control.

  “Here, querida, let me pull this chair out for you.”

  Like a gentleman, Alejandro pulled out my chair for me and helped me sit down. Once he was satisfied with my seating, he took his own seat across from me. My back was toward the front of the restaurant, so I could only focus on him. I wondered if he did this on purpose.

  “I’m so honored you decided to come to dinner with me.”

  “Thank you for asking. This place is charming,” I added, while looking around.

  “Manny’s is my favorite restaurant.”

  A very pretty waitress came up to us to take our order. Her hair was black and styled in a long French braid with a flower behind her ear. She was gorgeous, and when I turned to see how Alejandro was reacting to her, I was surprised to see his eyes were locked on mine.

  “Can I get you two something to drink?”

  “Two margaritas on the rocks with salt, please,” Alejandro ordered without taking his eyes off of me. Once the waitress left, he asked me. “I hope you like margaritas.”

  “I do,” I admitted, but felt a little leery about the order, since Phillip told me they hit you hard. I swore to myself that I would only be having one. I wanted experience in my life, but not drunken with a total stranger experience.

  “Mind if I order us tacos as well?”

  “By all means, you’re the expert.”

  The waitress returned at a speedy rate with our margaritas, and I listened as Alejandro ordered out tacos in Spanish. The way the words rolled right off his tongue had me leaning on my hand and just staring at the dark and exotic man.

  When the waitress left, Alejandro turned
to me and said, “Tell me, Rosie, why is such a beautiful senorita as yourself on a dating website? I bet millions of men are lined up to date you.”

  Flattery, I knew it when I heard it, and damn if I didn’t fall for it every time.

  “It’s hard to meet guys in New York,” I lied. I didn’t want him to know that a week ago I was a hermit living in my room and daydreaming about a man’s touch rather than experiencing it.

  “Si, this is true, no? The dating scene is a difficult one. I, myself, find it hard to meet a genuine woman, a real woman like yourself, Rosie. Now, tell me about these gatos.”

  “Gatos?” I asked, trying to understand his mix of English and Spanish.

  “You know, gato. Eh, what’s the word, I’m drawing a blank. You know, meow,” he said in a cute voice, making me giggle.

  “Oh, cats.”

  “Si, cats. The word escaped me. Tell me about the cats.”

  “Nothing really to say about them. They’re annoying and take up my entire work life. I avoided a cat hair confrontation with the ringleader right before I got here. He was trying to make a mess of my pants, but I was able to outsmart him.”

  “It seems like you don’t like these cats,” he chuckled.

  “No, they are not my favorite, but some of them are nice.”

  “So, there are cats in your office?”

  Not the most romantic conversation I ever had, but I took a couple of sips of my margarita and proceeded.

  “Yes, there are too many. Our boss, Gladys, thinks it’s necessary to live in an environment of cats when writing about them.”

  “That must be…smelly at times,” he cringed.

  “Oh, there’s a whole room for them to do their business. I stay as far away from that room as possible. The poor intern has to deal with it.”

  “Intern?”

  “Yes, umm, they’re usually students in college who volunteer their time for work experience. Something good to put on the resume.”