Dating Kosher

by Greene, Michaela

  For some reason, I felt I needed to tell him, “Er…my father is a lawyer.”

  “Well…I…” he stumbled. “I just had a bad experience with lawyers before I finished school. It’s not personal.”

  Sure, no insult is ever personal. I was beginning to think this guy wasn’t bright enough to be a lawyer. Maybe he failed the bar.

  I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Six minutes into the date and it was already going downhill. How had my stomach known before my brain did?

  “Never mind. So what do you do for the ad firm?”

  “Not much, ha ha ha.” At least he found himself amusing.

  Oh God. What have I gotten into?

  Dinner didn’t get much better. I drowned myself in the menu as long as I could: at least it gave me something to look at. Not that Ari was bad-looking, I just didn’t want to struggle to make conversation.

  In the end, I ordered the coconut shrimp appetizer, a filet, and a monstrously huge martini; I was sure alcohol would be the only thing to get me through this dinner.

  “Boy, for a skinny girl you sure seem to like a lot of food,” Ari said.

  I just nodded and smiled.

  “Do you work out a lot?” he asked.

  “Most days before work. Although I haven’t done much lately what with my dad’s wedding and my cat getting sick…” I frowned: my absence from the gym was beginning to have a negative effect; even my most comfortable clothes were beginning to feel a bit snug.

  “What’s wrong with your cat?” he asked, his eyes on the huge-breasted waitress that was serving the table behind us.

  “He had to have surgery. He had these stones…”

  “Do you think those are real?” he asked.

  “Do I think the stones were real?”

  His eyes darted to mine, the first time since we’d sat down. “No, that waitress’s breasts. Do you think they’re real?”

  I looked over automatically before it registered how incredibly gross it was of him to broach the subject of someone else’s fake boobs on our first date. He was probably wondering if mine were real. “I don’t know,” I said, even though I was pretty sure they weren’t.

  “They just don’t look good. Not like yours. Yours look good.” His hungry eyes dropped to my chest.

  “Uh, thanks. I think.”

  “Sorry, I just think you’re really hot.” The way he leered at me, his pupils practically the size of dinner plates, I half expected drool to start dribbling out of the side of his mouth. It was weirdly validating in a pathetic sort of way.

  Maybe because it had been so long since I’d gotten laid. Thinking back, I realized that my last lay had been Phil. Physically satisfying yes, but it had turned into such a terrible experience that the horror of the post-coital events overshadowed any pleasure I had gotten from him whatsoever.

  It was obvious. I needed to get some. This guy was surely more than willing. And this date fit right into Bev’s plan of giving guys I wouldn’t normally go out with a chance. I knew she didn’t mean I should give them a chance to have sex with me, but hell, a little bit of sex couldn’t hurt. Maybe Ari was some sort of sexual dynamo who was just clumsy at conversation?

  I decided to turn up the charm; flirting had always been my favorite sport. I leaned over the table toward him, knowing I was giving him an excellent view of my cleavage and motioned for him to lean in. He did, his eyes widening in his anticipation.

  “I’m not wearing any panties,” I whispered just as our waiter returned with our drinks.

  Ari gasped. He leaned back to allow the waiter to put the tumbler of scotch down in front of him. I sipped at my martini, thinking about my lie. I was so wearing underwear; would never go out without it. But for some reason, guys really get off on the idea of women going commando. I guess it’s a signal of easy access. Frankly, I think it’s a signal of a dirty ho, but I could tell from the beginning that Ari would be totally into it.

  Once the waiter had disappeared again, Ari leaned back over the table. “I’m getting hard for you,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

  “I’m getting hungry.” I licked my lips, thinking about the shrimp, knowing he was thinking I was hungry for something else.

  He took a deep breath and swallowed before exhaling.

  When they came, I took my time with the plate of shrimp. Dipping them several times into the sauce, then taking each one between my teeth and pulling it slowly from the shell. He was going crazy and I was loving it. Things were looking up.

  Later, when Bev called, I was in the bathroom waiting for the call.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  “Not bad, I guess.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “He’s okay. I think I’m going to take him home.”

  “You’re going to have sex with this guy on the first date? Come on, Shosh, don’t do that.”

  “Why not? You’re the one that says I should give guys a chance. Maybe he’s a sex god,” I joked to try to keep from getting defensive.

  “That’s not what I meant by giving guys a chance. I didn’t mean giving it up on the first date. I meant dating guys…oh never mind.”

  The conversation was circling the bowl. “Whatever, I’m getting some tonight. In my books, that’s a positive.”

  Bev sighed. “Whatever, Shosh.”

  “Hey, thanks for calling. I won’t need saving so I’m gonna let you go.”

  “Just make sure he wears a condom,” Bev said.

  “Of course, I’m not stupid.”

  A while later, the waiter arrived to clear our dinner plates and asked if we would like any dessert and coffee. I opened my mouth to order a slice of cheesecake, but before I had the chance, Ari refused and said we were in a rush and got out his Visa. I smirked. Not that I was at all hungry; I was actually stuffed, but was thoroughly enjoying drawing out the meal.

  By that time, I too was feeling some of the heat I was infusing into poor Ari and knew that my dry spell was soon going to be broken.

  As Ari dealt with the bill, I was mentally preparing for the remainder of the evening; where were the condoms? It’d been a while since I’d brought a guy home so I couldn’t remember—in the nightstand or in the medicine cabinet? Were the sheets relatively clean? (Who cares, they wouldn’t be for long.)

  Ari got up out of his chair, his obvious hard-on pressing against his fly. He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of the Outback.

  It felt good to be back in the saddle.

  * * *

  Ari turned out to be a mediocre-ish lover. No orgasm for me, but that was normal for the first time with any guy; I just couldn’t get that comfortable with a new man. But that was okay; my battery-powered silver bullet would finish the job after he left.

  The only really bad thing was how slobbery he was. I felt like I was drowning in his saliva when he kissed me; he covered my whole lower face with his gaping maw causing a soggy vapor lock. Sadly, I had encountered bad kissers before and quickly compensated: every time he looked like he was going to close back in for a kiss, I’d pretend I was deep in ecstasy and bite his shoulder. He seemed to think that was pretty hot, so it was all good.

  He was even good for a second time, so it was well after midnight before I glanced at the clock.

  “You were awesome,” he said, lying beside me.

  “Thanks,” I answered. I placed a silent bet with myself as to how long he would make awkward small talk before bolting. I kind of hoped it was sooner rather than later.

  “You’re really something, Shoshanna.”

  Something in his voice triggered a memory that I couldn’t quite place. I turned my head to look at him and his face was different now. He didn’t have that horny, hungry look in his eyes anymore. Instead, he had an expression that I hadn’t seen in a long time. The look I hadn’t seen since Max and I had started dating eons ago.

  Ari had googly eyes.

  I panicked.

  Jeez. This is what I get
for bringing home a nice Jewish guy just for sex. He ends up falling for me somewhere between the impromptu striptease I had performed and his second bed-shaking, sheet-gripping climax. I should have known better.

  But maybe this was what Bev had been talking about. Maybe this was the kind of guy I should be looking for. He seemed to have a decent job, the Beemer, a place in the Lower East Side (he told me about his place on the drive over to distract himself from our imminent sexual antics). So why wasn’t I considering him dateable? Was he too easy? Desperate? The kissing was absolutely awful, but could probably be improved upon with a little instruction.

  I smiled. “Thanks, Ari. That was really nice.”

  He smiled again, a genuine smile. I had just made his year. He slid his hand down my belly. “Want to go again?”

  I shivered under his touch, my body aching for sexual release, but I knew it wouldn’t happen, not with him, anyway.

  “I can’t. I have to get up for work in the morning. Really early.” It was a sad truth.

  “I’ll drive you to work in the morning. That should save you a bit of time.”

  Disappointed that he expected to stay over, but realizing I couldn’t kick him out to drive home this late, I smiled and thanked him. “But I’m really tired, I’m just going to grab a shower.” I got out of bed and leaned over to pick up the discarded condoms.

  “You have the best ass,” he crooned.

  “Thanks,” I said over my shoulder.

  He wasn’t so bad.

  * * *

  “I’d like to see you again?” It should have been a statement, but the way Ari said it, it was very much a question. I felt sorry for him that he had such low self-esteem. Whether it was true or not, he made me feel like I was out of his league. Never a real appealing feature in a man.

  I buckled my seatbelt. “That would be nice. Maybe after the holidays, we can get together.” I looked out the window and yawned, regretting how late I had stayed up. As it turned out, I had been ready to give Ari another shot once I got out of the shower. Mr. Shower Massage had done wonders but left me looking for more.

  He pulled out of the ‘visitor’ parking spot at my building much more slowly than he had pulled away the night before. “Does your family do a big thing?”

  “Well normally they don’t but this year since my dad got married, his new wife wants to do a big Rosh Hashanah dinner.”

  Ari visibly deflated. “Oh, that sounds so nice.”

  I glanced over. “Where’s your family?”

  “Israel. My parents took my brother on an extended tour of Israel; they will be spending Yom Kippur at the Wailing Wall.”

  “Wow, that’s a big deal. How come you didn’t go?”

  He shook his head. “Couldn’t get the time off work. Now I get to spend the holidays alone.”

  “Why don’t you come with me to my dad’s?” fell out of my mouth before I realized it.

  His head snapped toward me. “Really? You think? Are you sure, we really don’t know each other.”

  “You met my grandmother, we’re practically married.” What was I saying? Note to self: conversing without adequate sleep and before morning caffeine injection can be very dangerous.

  “Well Shoshanna, if you’re sure it will be okay with your family, I’d love to come with you. And not just in the bedroom, either, har har.”

  I rolled my eyes. Easy there, joke boy.

  “I’ll check with my stepmom, but I’m sure it will be okay.”

  “That’s awesome. Thanks.” We were stopped at a red light so Ari took the opportunity to lean over and give me a kiss on the lips. A big wet slobbery kiss.

  As he backed off, I felt like I’d been kissed by a camel. Gross. I was definitely going to have to do something about that. This whole giving guys a chance thing was a lot wetter than I’d ever have imagined.

  Chapter 30

  “So, did you do it?” Bev asked, her face resembling that of a PMS-afflicted woman standing at a Godiva counter; she needed a fix, and she needed it bad.

  “Did I do what?” I asked, grabbing the emery board out of my desk drawer to smooth out a snag. I knew exactly what she was asking, but I couldn’t help it, I loved taunting her. She made it so easy.

  “Come on, I’ve got an appointment in, like, three minutes,” Bev whined, keeping her voice low; it wouldn’t do to have clients overhear our gossiping from the waiting area.

  I rolled my eyes. “Well if you must know, I did. Okay?”

  It was like she took a bite of the chocolate, but it was better than expected and she instantly needed more. “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. He’s probably coming for Rosh Hashanah dinner.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wow, you must really like him.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, it’s not that. He practically begged me. His family is in Israel and he had nowhere to go.”

  “Wow. That’s almost charitable of you, Shoshanna. I’m stunned.”

  I looked beyond Bev to make sure no clients were within earshot before I told her to fuck off.

  She just laughed at me.

  “Speaking of Rosh Hashanah, Jake is coming into town.”

  “Who?”

  Before Bev had a chance to answer, her client came through the front doors.

  “Hi Adrienne, I’ll be right with you. Would you like a tea?”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” the client said, automatically heading over to the waiting area.

  Bev turned back to me. “Jacob, Susan’s son. Your step-brother?”

  Right. Him. “Oh,” I said, deliberately keeping the smile on my face.

  “He’s coming in for the holidays. I’m really looking forward to seeing him. We’ve been talking every day by e-mail.”

  My best friend was positively beaming. I wondered if Bev was having online sex with the guy who was now my stepbrother. So weird.

  “Why don’t you come for Rosh Hashanah dinner too?” I was playing quite the gracious hostess for Susan’s dinner party, inviting all these extra people.

  “Really, you think that would be cool? I mean, my parents don’t really do anything anyway.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll ask Susan, but one more person couldn’t hurt.” Especially since she heard you mention you wanted to do him back in the hotel bathroom at the wedding, I thought, but kept my mouth shut—no reason to embarrass Bev by reminding her about that.

  “Wow, that would be cool. Thanks, Shosh. And I’ll get to meet Ari, too.”

  “Oy, I’ll be spreading such nachas,” I said in my best Jewish grandmother voice.

  Bev giggled before going to retrieve her client.

  * * *

  “Honey! It’s so great to see you!” Dad said as he approached the booth where I sat. I got up from the bench and hugged him, smiling over his shoulder at Susan. Even though I liked her, I wondered with a sudden, acute pang of jealousy, if she would now be a permanent fixture at our Sunday morning brunches. Once Dad pulled away, she moved in and gave me a hug also, albeit much more delicate than my father’s.

  “How’s the cut?” Dad asked nodding toward the bandage over my eye.

  My fingers involuntarily rose to the touch the fabric covering the stitches. “Getting better. I’m getting them out this week.”

  Susan’s brow furrowed as she took her seat. “Hopefully, you won’t have too much of a scar.”

  I shrugged, “I’ll just tell people I got it in a bar fight.”

  “Shosh…” Dad scolded half-heartedly.

  “So, did you have a good honeymoon?” I asked sliding back into the booth.

  They both nodded but it was Susan who spoke. “We had such a wonderful time. Your dad didn’t get seasick at all.” She shoved her hand into her purse and pulled out her phone, cueing up the pictures before handing it to me. “We went snorkeling and your dad even tried parasailing.”

  “Wow, really?” I could hardly imagine my father i
n something as casual as a swimsuit let alone four hundred feet in the sky, dangling from a parachute.

  “I did, honey, there’s a picture in there to prove it.” He pointed at the phone in my hand.

  “Wow.” I began to flip through the photos. Most of them were of Susan. Susan in her pink bathing suit at the pool. Susan in her black bathing suit on the beach. Susan in her green bathing suit and her snorkel outfit, complete with fins. Then there were a few of them in their formal wear sitting at dinner. Looking very happy. Looking like they were in love.

  I wondered what their criteria had been when they first hooked up. Did she see him as a good provider? Was it his looks?

  Oh what the hell. I looked up from the photos and looked Susan in the eye. “What made you realize you wanted to marry Dad, or at least be with him permanently?”

  She looked at me for a second before stealing a glance at her new husband. “Are you asking me this because of your young man? Who, I would like to say, is very nice, by the way. I hope he’s coming for Rosh Hashanah dinner…”

  Dad was nodding his own endorsement of Nate; the pretend-Jewish man who now hated my guts.

  “No, I’m not asking because of him. I’m just interested, that’s all. And actually, Nate and I broke up, but there’s someone else I’d like to bring to Rosh Hashanah, if that’s okay.” I took a sip of my coffee, trying to look casual. I still hadn’t broken the news to my mother that I wouldn’t be spending Tuesday night with her. Although I was obligated to spend Tuesday nights through eternity with my mother, Susan was making this big production at her and Dad’s place. It was going to be the birth of a new era: home cooked Rosenblatt family holiday dinners. What a concept.

  Susan deflated, “Oh, too bad, I thought we’d have another wedding to plan. So who do you want to bring? Bev?”

  “Oh, uh well yeah, her too.” I wondered if Susan knew about her son and Bev exchanging e-mails since the wedding. Probably not; she didn’t seem to take any extra interest in Bev wanting to come. “But also, this guy I met when I was with Bubby at the butcher shop on Friday.”

  “Oh, well that’s a bit sudden.” Susan’s hand rose to finger the pearls around her neck. “But any friend of yours is welcome at our table.” She wasn’t very convincing; her gears were turning, I’m sure wondering what had happened to Nate—the guy that everyone had liked.