Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 2: A New Adult Romantic Comedy

by Adele Huxley

  Slumped on her desk, her chubby cheek resting in the palm of her hand, Abi had fallen asleep.

  “Lisa already left,” I said louder than I needed to, grinning as she jumped awake. “You can stop pretending to be such a hard worker.”

  It was incredible how quickly she recovered her bitch-face. The bright red blotch where her hand had pressed into her face still made me giggle. “I’m not pretending. I still have a lot to do,” she replied with her nose up in the air. As if to prove her point, she started clicked randomly around her computer.

  “Uh huh. Well, I’m pretty sure she saw you sleeping at your desk. Wonder what sort of impression that made on her? Anywho, you have a good night. Don’t work too hard,” I smirked, knowing full well she’d be on the elevator right after I’d left. A part of me wanted to hang around the lobby just to catch her, but dinner and a cold beer were far more tempting than rubbing anything in Abi’s face.

  I texted Anette and Zach on the way home, hoping I could time my arrival with a huge order of takeout. Zach replied he’d gone up to the Yankees game, which, as a die-hard Mets fan, I gave him shit for. Just as I climbed out of the station into the marginally cooler air, I remembered Anette was working again tonight. So with a little skip in my tired step, I walked home, looking forward to a rare night by myself. I grabbed a slice of pizza on the way, ordering from my favorite Thai place on my phone as I ate. Don’t judge me.

  My food arrived only a few minutes after I stepped out of the shower. Feeling relaxed and happy, I cracked open a beer and settled in to catch up on my recorded shows. It was a special thing to have the apartment completely to myself, knowing I’d be alone for hours, but I simply couldn’t relax. Something was different.

  The phone on the armrest was like a siren calling to me. It was scary how addicting the app had gotten in such a short amount of time. At any given moment, there were dozens and dozens of men out there waiting to talk, meet, and if I felt brave enough, hook up. The attention was intoxicating. Meeting new people was a thrill I’d only just rediscovered. And with every date, good or bad, I was a further step away from Kevin.

  I downed the last of the beer and grabbed another bottle from the fridge, holding the cold glass against my skin as I flicked right and left on a few photos. Curling up on the sofa, I chuckled quietly to myself as I remembered how picky I’d been the first few days. Now I made judgment calls within a second or two, barely looking at their bios before deciding whether they were worth my time.

  It didn’t take long before I matched with a few guys and struck up a couple conversations.

  Delete. I moved onto another guy who started the conversation with a play on my name.

  I thought about the slice of pizza swimming in my tummy and felt a little sick. He’s just ruined Italian food for me, hasn’t he...

  Thumbs down. Delete. Move on. These setbacks weren’t even setbacks now. I was becoming desensitized to the odd and unusually clingy interactions I now had with strangers on a daily basis.

  By the time I finished my second bottle and was debating about opening a third, I hadn’t had a meaningful conversation. Hell, there wasn’t a conversation all night that hadn’t devolved into either an unsolicited photo or a request from me.

  “Is it a freakin’ full moon, or something?” I wondered out loud. The fourth dick pic of the night popped up on my screen and I groaned, throwing my phone to the other side of the sofa.

  Is this what men are really like when they have the cloak of anonymity? If society allowed it, would a guy just walk up to me in a bar, flash his dick, and try to cop a feel?

  The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. And almost like an afterthought, I remembered I had the perfect place to vent all these frustrations.

  I opted for the third beer and settled at my tiny desk, ready to tell the world how shitty some of these guys were. With the heel of my thumb, I flipped through the manuscript I’d forgotten that morning. I wonder if Clint is dating anyone? He doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy who’d send dick pics, I thought idly as my laptop booted up. And for whatever reason, it made me want to see it even more.

  I shook my head and pushed the stack of papers away, trying to refocus back on my frustration and anger.

  “I’m not old fashioned. I swear. I’m not looking for my Prince Charming but it would be nice to find a guy who is at least capable, or willing, to piece a few sentences together. Here’s what I’m talking about.”

  I posted a screen shot from a conversation I’d had only an hour before, not even bothering to block out his name.

  “Lovely, right? Yes, it’s a hookup app and yes, that’s what most people are looking to do. But I’m not an animal in heat. I do have a certain level of intelligence (which I question by still entertaining all this) and would like to at least meet you before we jump into bed. And if you aren’t willing to give me that, maybe a ten-minute conversation would be a good place to start. Like, how about this winner? No introduction, no hello, just straight to the point… so to speak.”

  I paused, wondering if I was going too far by posting this screenshot. But I felt that little spark of anger deep in my gut. If this guy were to have flashed me on the street, I would’ve pointed, laughed, and drawn attention to it. So why should I feel any different if he was dumb enough to take a photo and post it under a profile with his name?

  “People. Seriously. It’s the same as catcalling. Have you ever had a guy yell something out at you while minding your own damn business? Has that ever, in the history of histories, made you want to stop and talk to him? Have you ever seen a dick pic so amazing you’d drop what you’re doing, Uber your ass over to some hovel in Williamsberg, and drop to your knees? Come on.”

  As I wrote, I felt a new persona take over. This wasn’t exactly me… but she wasn’t not me, if that makes sense. I was hamming it up, making it funnier, as if I were writing for an audience. Three beers in and I didn’t care. I found it funny at least.

  “I’m waiting for a dating app to be invented for these cavemen. I’m dubbing it, Gruntr. It’s for the subset of men who think all they need to do is grunt a few times, wave their ‘club’ around, and wait for the ladies to flock in.”

  I sat back and reread my post, making little tweaks here and there. It felt good to write again and even more amazing to have ownership about this whole dating thing away from my friends.

  Just before I shut the lid on my laptop, I checked my email and saw a new message waiting for me. It wasn’t from Clint’s personal assistant. It was from Clint himself.

  “Just got this through. Will have a look at it when I get a chance. Will be in touch soon. Clint.”

  And out of all the conversations and messages I’d gotten that night, those three sentences set my heart thumping faster than anything.

  My stomach ached from laughing so hard. I’d completely lost track of time and my nerves had long since thawed. Forrest was everything I’d hoped he’d be and more. And as I caught my breath, he took it away again.

  He grinned at me, his cheeks dimpling and perfect white teeth gleaming in the dim light. “You have a beautiful laugh,” he said.

  I blushed and looked away like some demure Southern belle. “Stop. I laugh like a donkey. Just ‘hee-haw snort.’ All bad.”

  He chuckled and leaned forward. The cuffs on his rolled up shirt strained against his muscular forearms and I had to bite my lip. “You are beautiful.” I nervously laughed again and tucked my hair behind my ear. He squinted at me as if trying to figure something out before speaking. “You haven’t been on many dates, have you?”

  “No, that’s true. And after the ones I have been on, you’re lucky I’m here.”

  “I absolutely am,” he replied, holding my gaze until I blinked away. I think he sensed he was coming on too strong and leaned back. “Lots of freaks out there. I’m not ashamed to admit I was nervous walking over here tonight.”

  “You were nervous?” I coughed. “What? You thought I was catfishing you or
something? Afraid I would be fifty pounds heavier?”

  “Maybe,” Forrest shrugged. “It’s a lot easier for women.”

  I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms dramatically. “Puh-leaze. You have no idea how many dick pics I had to wade through before we talked.”

  “You have no idea how insane some of these women are,” he countered like a lawyer. “Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone and after a couple swipes, started reading out biographies.

  “‘My super power is that I don’t have a gag reflex. At first when people found out they called me a freak, now they just call me, all the time.’”

  He peered up at me, his eyes glowing from the reflection of the phone. He shifted in his seat, his hand disappearing under the table like he was adjusting himself.

  My gaze darted away. “That’s not too bad,” I laughed. “At least she’s straight forward.”

  “Okay, okay. Sure. You want straight forward? How about this one. ‘Looking for a man to cum inside me so I can wipe my goopy vagina along the kitchen floor and pretend I am a slug.’”

  I gagged a little, clapping a hand over my mouth in horror. And despite my disgust, a bark of laughter escaped my lips as I pictured Pluto scooting his ass across the floor, legs all wiggly on either side. “That’s absolutely disgusting.”

  Forrest nodded, his lip curled with distaste. “Oh, and then there are these ones. ‘Blah blah, I don’t sleep with anyone on a first date.’”

  I frowned, feeling a tiny twinge of fear in my chest that maybe he expected me to put out. Not that I hadn’t already decided I was up for it, but it was the expectation. “What’s so bad about that?”

  He shook his head as he tucked his phone away. “That’s code. There are so many girls who only agree to meet up because they want you to buy them dinner. Then they disappear into the night with no intention of getting to know you in the first place. I literally had a date with a girl who sat texting on her phone the entire time, pushed the bill towards me when it came, and never spoke to me again.”

  “That’s really shitty. I guess I’d never thought about what it’s like from your side of it.”

  The first real silence of the evening fell over us. We’d had a few drinks and had reached the point in the night where we had to decide what was happening next. I sneaked a peek at him, his strong hands wiping the condensation off the glass mug, and decided to go for it. My core tightened at the thought of his thumb caressing parts of me.

  “Do you, uh… should we go to…” I started without knowing how to finish the sentence.

  He met my eyes, deciphering my meaning with one glance. He squirmed in his seat again, and this time both hands dropped out of sight under the table. “My place is only a couple blocks away,” he whispered, almost afraid that he might’ve misinterpreted me. “Unless you’d rather…”

  I thought of trying to bring a guy back to the apartment with Anette and Zach hanging around. I nearly shouted “No!” but restrained myself. “I’d love to go back to yours.”

  We held hands as we strolled along, the night warm but not oppressive. It was weird how normal it was to casually walk back to a place with someone, both knowing you were about to have sex for the first time. Plus, it’d been so long since I’d been with anyone, I could probably be re-certified as a virgin. And it’s not like Kevin was any god in the sack, either.

  Forrest’s building was a lot newer than my eight story walk-up. It was modern, air conditioned, and even had a working elevator. I was surprised when he hit the button for the 30th floor. He didn’t give me any time to comment.

  The doors shut and he consumed me in an instant, pressing me against the cold mirrors, his mouth hot against mine. After a moment to process, I kissed back with equal excitement, my fingers digging into the muscles on his strong back. If his kissing was any indication of how good he was going to be in bed, I knew I’d made the right decision. And if the hard bulge against my hip was a sign of things to come, bring it on!

  We broke apart as we reached the floor, my heart racing as he led me to the door of his apartment. Compared my cramped two-bed, this place was palatial. We stepped into a sprawling open plan kitchen and living room, the recessed lighting flicking on overhead.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  I nodded, trying not to gape at the apartment. “What did you say you do again?”

  He laughed appreciatively. “Finance stuff. Boring but pays well,” he called out from the kitchen. I mean, come on. He had a separate room just for his kitchen. That alone bumps you up a few pegs in Manhattan. “I work so hard during the week, I want to enjoy myself during my free time.”

  I turned and watched him walk towards me with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Paint a picture of a guy you’d want to take to bed and this was Forrest for me. Tall, handsome in an unconventional way, funny, and so sure of himself I felt like I could…

  “Right, yeah, totally,” I coughed, taking the drink from him to stop my train of thought.

  He gestured to the designer sofa. We sat close but not enough to touch, but the fire he’d kindled in the elevator still burned just under the surface. I watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he took a sip and set the glass on the table. We made idle chit-chat, neither of us really committing much to the verbal conversation. But holy hell, the things we were communicating with our bodies.

  Forrest leaned forward and pushed his elbow up on the back of the sofa, holding his head at the temple as he listened to me intently. I caught myself twirling my hair as I spoke. Each movement and gesture screamed FUCK ME, but we clung to the control.

  I realized this was part of the foreplay. This wasn’t drunken fumbling in a single-bed dorm. This wasn’t instant gratification. This was adult, mature, and so much better than what I’d had with Kevin. It actually left me feeling empowered and sexy, like I was a seductress.

  His fingers grazed my bare knee. I pushed into his touch. He brushed my hair behind my ear and our eyes locked. He trailed down the side of my jaw and gently held my chin as he kissed me, softly this time. The hunger was there but leashed, restrained. The kiss built and built, the heat rising as our tongues danced. When I threaded my fingers through his hair at the back of his head, a groan rumbled in this throat.

  Forrest grabbed me by the waist with both hands and hoisted me on top of his lap, my knees falling on either side of his hips. The way he looked at me… I’ve never felt so sexy in my entire life. He consumed me with the same passion and desire as he’d had in the elevator, his hands cupping my ass as his mouth explored my neck.

  After a few moments, he let out another groan and flipped me on my back. I let out a little surprised squeal as I landed. He swiftly crawled on top of me, his body pressing me into the soft sofa. I released a moan of my own, wondering how long it’d been since I’d felt the weight of a man on me.

  I couldn’t believe how right this felt. It was like I was floating above myself, watching the scene play out, amazed that it was happening at all. Talia sleeping with a guy she’d just met, a guy she’d met online no less. However bizarre it seemed was completely offset by the amazing things Forrest was making me feel.

  His hardness pressed against my thigh, and holy shit was he hard! I hadn’t gotten a chance to steal a glance, but the damn bulge in his pants was big enough and hard enough to hurt a little! My body worked on its own, arching into the contact. He pulled the strap of my tank top down, kissing along my collarbone as he snaked his hand up the hem of my skirt along my thigh.

  Just as I was about to completely lose my mind, he stopped, pulling back. I nearly dove for his mouth again, his lips parted slightly as he caught his breath. A grin spread across his face.

  “I’m really glad I met you, Talia,” he breathed. “I…” He pushed up to sitting again, pulling me up along with him. “I don’t normally do this until I’ve gotten to know the person first, but… I’d like to show you something.”

  I blinked a few times, trying to hide my confusion. My b
ody was still go, go, go. Why was he putting on the brakes when I’d just given him the green light?

  “Yeah, of course,” I replied, adjusting my clothes back into place.

  With an expression of relief and excitement, Forrest threaded his fingers with mine and led me down a narrow hall. We passed two doors before stopping at the third. I could sense his nerves and for the first time, I wondered if I hadn’t made a huge mistake. As if sensing my unease, he lifted my knuckles to his lips, flaming the spark he’d lit deep in my core.

  He pulled his keyring out, selected a pure black key, and slid it into the matching black doorknob. Why does he have a locked door in his own apartment? I wondered.

  “There are things about me not many people know. But I feel like I can trust you. I’m not going to spout off some stuff about connections and all that,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in a charming gesture. “There’s a strange need to share this with you.”

  My heart was absolutely racing now. “Sure, yeah.” There was a weakness in my thighs that left me feeling wobbly.

  Forrest rested his hand on the doorknob, took a big breath, and opened the door. The room was black and windowless. I hesitated at the threshold, waiting for him to flick on the lights before I entered.

  Lights.

  Camera.

  Bondage.

  I tried to be cool, I really did. I read 50 Shades, I’ve seen the movie. But imagining a scene from a book while having a little private time with your shower head is completely different than being confronted with a room full of whips, chains, and restraints. There were things hanging from the walls I didn’t even recognize.

  I felt Forrest’s intent gaze on me, watching. He reached down to the bulge in his pants and pressed the flat of his hand against it, making no effort to hide the motion. I took a few deep breaths and tried to temper my reaction, but I knew my expression was far from the one I wanted to convey. If I’m brutally honest, it was a little too much, too soon. But there was a part of me that thought, I’ve come this far. I’m already doing something I don’t normally do… why not?