by Brianna Cash
“Did you see Sadie on your way in? She said she was almost here fifteen minutes ago.”
“No!” I yell in reply. It’s going to be a really long night.
He looks around, his mouth tilting up in a grin before giving me his attention again. “Never mind, I see her! She’s working on next weekend.”
I must’ve heard him wrong. “What?”
“She’s working on next weekend. Seeing if there’s anyone here worth a date later.”
“Is that normal?”
“For Sadie?” He leans back in his chair a little. “Yeah. She’s always looking.”
“For what?”
He wraps his hand around his beer bottle, a hint of a smile on his lips. “For someone she’d want more with.”
More what? More than dancing in a club?
I change the subject, now that I’m slowly getting used to the intensity of the music and can have a conversation at a semi-reasonable level. “So, you and Sarah?”
“Eh…” He shrugs one shoulder, spinning the bottom ridge of his bottle on the table. “Kind of. I think she’s seeing someone else.”
“Really? She seems to like you well enough at work.”
He looks down at the table. “Yeah, but I called her my girlfriend the other day and she flipped out.”
“Oh.” He probably didn’t hear me, but that’s ok. I’m digging a hole for myself. It’s probably better for me to stop talking at this point.
“What do you think of Sadie?”
I picture her in my mind, the way she was last week, her stand-offish expression firmly in place as she turned to me, after smiling and flirting with a delivery guy at least twice her age. “Ah, I don’t know, she’s nice, I guess.”
“She’s cute,” Clive says, staring into the sea of swaying hips and bobbing heads. Pulling my chair around to his side of the circular table, I find the girl in question, watching her dark, brown hair fan out around her as she grins at the guy dancing with her.
Her red, sleeveless blouse and skintight jeans are definitely not office attire. And those sexy high-heeled boots have to be killing her feet. The effect her non-professional wardrobe has on me hopefully isn’t obvious when I shift my weight, moving my chair and my crotch farther under the table.
“Yeah, she’s…” I wouldn’t call her cute. In this setting? Hot is a much better word. Fun, carefree, and sexy? Definitely. Even at work, when she’s dressed more conservatively, I’d go with beautiful. If Clive’s considering dating her, I probably shouldn’t act like I don’t want to take my eyes off her, though. “Pretty.”
Five years ago, at my interview, she graced me with a professional smile. Even then, I thought she was gorgeous. She has a confidence about her that’s nothing short of stunning. It’s in the way she walks, the way she addresses someone, the way she asks questions and asserts herself. She knows exactly who she is and what she wants out of life. Something I struggle with all the time.
Now, I know her name and speak to her almost every day, but I still know nothing personal about her. Except that while she’s friendly, she’s not overly friendly. She’s good at her job, but her life and happiness don’t revolve around it. She makes her own rules, and most of them are an improvement over the standard regulations, so she’s smart and also not afraid to get in trouble.
From the way she talks to me at work, I also know I’m not someone she’ll ever smile at like that. Like the guy she’s dancing with.
“And she knows how to have a good time,” Clive says, reminding me he’s still here.
“Yeah? I wouldn’t know. I don’t know much about her.”
“She’s feisty, ya know? Keeps you on your toes.”
“No,” I insist, telling him again, “I don’t know her well.”
“You should get to know her.”
He locks eyes with me. What is he trying to say? I thought he was interested in her, but now it sounds like he wants me to be. He can’t really think Sadie and I would work together as a couple. We’re much too different. “My opinion doesn’t matter, Clive. If you want to ask her out, do it.”
He laughs long and hard, like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
Sarah comes back, falling into Clive’s lap and peppering his face with kisses as her friend throws herself in a chair across from me. Holding my hand out, I stand up, introducing myself. “Hi, I’m Owen.”
“Tiffany.” She glances in my direction, ignoring my hand as I lower myself back into my chair. “You wanna dance?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
She fishes a phone out of the pocket of her ass-baring shorts and quickly forgets the rest of the world. Clive holds Sarah in place by her hips, mumbling something in her ear. Her bottom lip makes an appearance, making me want to shake my head in confusion. I don’t, of course, but I seriously have no idea what any of these people are thinking.
Ignoring them all, I find Sadie in the crowd again. Watching her is intoxicating. The easy way she moves to the music, the grin she’s wearing that’s nothing like the one she wears at work, the hint of mischief in her eyes that makes me think she found next weekend’s plans…
The song ends. She grabs the guy’s hand, leading him away. His other hand is securely on her hip as he follows her. They move toward our table but veer off at the last second, disappearing behind a door a few yards away.
The door closes.
And stays that way.
For a long time.
Long enough that I start questioning what she’s doing in there.
She wouldn’t do that, though, right? I mean… We’re at a club. She came here alone, looking for next weekend’s plans. As in, she was looking for someone to take her out after tonight. Tonight is when they met. When they clicked. They’ll laugh and smile and exchange numbers tonight. That’s all, though. She’s looking for someone she’d want more with.
The door is still closed.
They’re still behind it.
Does “more” mean more than whatever she’s willing to physically do with him tonight? In a closet or bathroom at the club?
Or is more simply the emotional side of a relationship for her?
Seriously, what are they still doing in there?
Is more something physical or emotional for Sadie?
I can’t come up with anything they might be doing in there for this amount of time that would involve their clothes remaining on.
Then again, I was willing to do a lot more with the girl I was shoved into a closet with at that party last weekend. I should probably reserve my judgements.
If it’s a bathroom behind that door, maybe they’re discussing their favorite brand of toilet paper.
Or what cleaning products are used to keep the porcelain sparkling.
Or whether the sound of the music will drown out the noise of them screwing against the wall.
When she reappears, a satisfied smile is spread across her lips. The guy wears a neutral expression, but very obviously checks Tiffany out as he walks past. Tiffany catches his eye, smiles back, then gets up and follows him to the dancefloor.
Jeez, is that all it takes?
Good thing the girl and I only made out in that closet for the entire seven minutes. That guy is nothing like the person I want to be.
Sadie struts to our table, her eyes widening when they land on me. “Owen! Didn’t expect to see you here.”
She even acts like her time with that guy was nothing.
I nod, still reserving judgement. “Sadie.”
She looks past me, rolling her eyes at Clive and Sarah going at it right at the table. At least Sadie went behind a closed door to make a spectacle of herself.
“Yo! Clive! Take a break!” When he rips his mouth away from Sarah’s, Sadie throws her hands on her hips. “Did you get me a drink?”
Clive shakes his head. “Didn’t make it there yet.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll be back.”
“Can you get me one?” Sarah asks.
&n
bsp; “No. Sucking face isn’t an excuse not to get your own.” She walks toward the bar, and Sarah jumps off Clive’s lap to dig through a purse.
“What’s behind that door?” I tip my head in the direction of where Sadie disappeared with her mystery suitor.
Clive looks over my shoulder. “Sadie take someone in there?”
“Yeah.”
“First contestant for the night.”
It’s like I’m talking to someone with Tourette’s. Nothing he says makes any sense. “Clive?”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, Sadie likes to give guys a test drive...”
“What?”
Clive shrugs. “To see if they’re worth her time later.”
Sarah grins. “She had to be fucking him! Megan said Sadie’s crazier than a Girl’s Gone Wild video.”
I nearly choke on the last of my beer before composing myself and returning my gaze to Clive’s. “And how many…‘test drives’ does she usually have in one night?”
“Hmm.” He murmurs to himself as Sarah walks off to get her own drink. “Usually two. Three on a good night.”
Sadie gives a “test drive” to two different guys a night, on average, when she goes out?
It’s true what they say; you can’t judge a book by its cover. By her appearance at work, I never would’ve guessed she was that kind of girl. I don’t understand why Clive is interested in her. Especially since he’s very aware of what kind of girl she is, and he and Sarah definitely seem to be intimate. I can’t stop my eyebrow from twitching when I voice my next question. “And you want to dump Sarah for Sadie?”
“What?” His eyebrows drop as he turns toward me. “I don’t want Sadie. I think you’d be good for Sadie.”
He’s gotta be freaking kidding me! “God, no!”
“Why not? She’s a great girl.”
What is his definition of a bad girl, if he thinks someone who test drives more than one guy in even a weekend, let alone a few hours at the club, is a great girl?
I shake my head, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “She’s not my type.”
Understatement of the year.
“Huh. She says you’re not her type, either. I really thought you two would be good for each other.”
You’re outta your fucking mind.
I think it, I don’t say it. I don’t even show it. But, wow, do I think it.
Sadie
Two guys in and I’m done. I don’t care to dance with even one more contestant. I don’t care to speak to any more of them either. It’s been a long roller coaster of a week and my patience is thinner than ever.
Last weekend was kind of a high, being kissed like I was the lead in some romcom. I didn’t know it was even possible to be kissed like that. I thought the trashy porn novels and girly movies were building up something that was only ordinary. Turns out they were right, but you don’t need all the messy, complicated feelings that are usually involved. You just need the right two bodies to make magical things happen.
Working with Bimbo Blondie this week was torture. She doesn’t do anything except surf her social media sites, file her nails, and occasionally, flirt with Clive. She’s worthless. And I made a snarky remark to her on Tuesday and got called into the boss’s office about it on Wednesday. After I came back from the George’s office, I agreed to come out with her tonight in the hopes it would butter her up so she’d stop snitching on me. Thursday, I bombed that autobiography blurb, but then had a very sweet text convo with OC736 that filled me with some sort of weird fluttery feeling in my stomach as I tried to fall asleep.
Then, we’ve got today.
Work wasn’t bad, but the guys here tonight are so not worth it!
And Sarah is following me around every chance she can! I want to smack her right across her frosted face. Frosted, because it’s caked in makeup. Cheesy, I know, but I’m all out of quick wit tonight, and seriously fixated on cake. We won’t mention the cake I bought on the way home earlier that’s almost half gone.
And why the hell is Owen here? What the fuck is with that? Polite, friendly, always wearing a smile Owen, who’s glaring at me like the pisswater beer he’s drinking is my piss. He can go fuck himself. I have no idea what he thinks I did to offend him, but he can knock that shit off.
“Sadie…” A deep voice sings into my ear, jolting me upright and instantly infusing me with a second wind.
Jumping up and wrapping my arms around my favorite eight point five, I squeal with girly laughter as he lifts me off my feet. “Jamison! What’re you doing here? I thought you were working till later.”
“I got out early and couldn’t wait for your next text to see you.”
“What makes you think I would’ve texted you? There’s plenty of fish in this crowded aquarium.”
“None of them are as good as me.”
His smirk and overly confident remark does nothing but make me roll my eyes. I pull him into the seat next to mine anyway. “Tonight, that’s true.”
“I figured you’d had a long enough break from me. One of these days, you’ll give in and date me instead of running away when you realize we’re getting somewhat comfortable.”
“Never.” I shake my head with wide eyes. At least until he tickles me.
Jamison is a perfect ten in bed. Which is why I go home with him time and time again. A girl has needs, and a vibrator can only get you so far. Sometimes you need an orgasm from someone other than yourself, and Jamison is better than any vibrator out there.
He leans his head closer to mine. “You’re getting too old for these games, Sadie. Let me give you everything you want.”
“No. And don’t call me old.” He ignores my rejection, and I let him try to sway me with a kiss that makes my clit perk up in excitement. His tongue dances with mine as he grabs my hips and yanks my chair as close to his as it can get while remaining on four feet.
“Come home with me.” His lips move against my mouth as he talks, and I almost give in to him. It feels like forever since I’ve had good sex. It hasn’t been; at least not anywhere near as long as forever, but God, it feels like it. Especially with his hands on me like they are. He gives up even more space when he pulls me onto his lap. I laugh at his awkward moves when I almost tip over and fall off the other side of him.
Once he gets me settled, I look into his eyes with a smile. “Not yet.”
“What do I need to do to get you out of here?”
“Buy me a drink.”
“Done. It’s behind you on the table.”
Maybe I’ve been doing this with him too long. He knows me too well.
His eyes are a deep, golden brown that burn into mine with an intensity that makes me look away. He wants more than I have to give, he always has. I’ve told him, repeatedly, I’m not the right girl for him. I could easily walk away from him and not look back.
He can’t say the same.
Sarah and Tiffany slither back to the table, eyeing Jamison greedily and giving me their trademark laser beam death glares. Sarah, who loves me one second and hates me the next, stares at me with extra hatred tonight. “Who’s this? You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” My argument falls on deaf ears as Jamison removes his hand from my ass and offers it to her.
“Jamison.” He smiles at her over my shoulder.
She refuses to shake his hand or spare him another glance. “Sure looks like you have a boyfriend.”
“Nah. Just a flavor of the month.”
“Try flavor of the year,” Jamison corrects me, pinching my side and smirking when I jump on his lap.
“Has it really been a year?”
“Just over.”
“Damn.”
“I know. Give in, already.” His lips land close to my ear. “You’ll feel better instantly.”
“Move your hand down a couple inches and I’ll instantly feel better without the commitment.”
A throat gets cleared from somewhere behind m
e and I look over my shoulder to find Clive smirking at my exchange with Jamison. But there’s also Owen, who’s watching with a look of…disgust? What the fuck? Seriously?
Climbing off Jamison’s very willing, warm body, I turn around to face the asshole head on. “What’s your problem, Owen?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“And you think I do?”
“I think you’re very…talented at getting around.”
The fuck he didn’t!
My jaw drops to the floor. My hands clench into fists at my sides. My blood pressure’s rising like steam from a freight train. Jamison’s behind me in a flash, his hands on my arms, holding them down, making sure I don’t do something stupid. Even Clive is suddenly pushing his chair away from Owen, a dirty look on his face as what Owen just said sinks in.
“Come on, Sadie, let’s go,” Jamison purrs into my ear, trying to soothe me. “He obviously doesn’t know you.”
“Obviously.” I grunt the word through clamped teeth, my jaw so tense it’s locked closed. Jamison steers me away from the table, through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk while I mentally curse out the polite asshole that I have to see every fucking day at work.
That Goddamned prick Owen can suck it for all I care.
Chapter 8
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Assignment #4 Write the blurb of your autobiography.
Dear Mr. Forgiving,
They say everyone has a special talent, but I’ve never excelled at anything.
As an only child, I was horrible at sharing, but had a vivid imagination that got me into more trouble than it was worth. In middle school, I discovered I was more of a tomboy, so I wasn’t very good at the whispered secrets and dramatic fashion shows girls my age were into. The summer before high school, I accidentally knocked my color guard instructor out while practicing a throw for the half-time show, and basically became the school klutz before I was even officially a high school student. And while I passed all my classes the first time around, I didn’t do well enough to even entertain the idea of trying to educate myself further for another two, four, or however many years were necessary to receive some kind of degree in higher education.
