What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  Sorting through emails, unsolicited pictures and more than a few threesome invites, I really had no idea what I was looking for. It became something of a process of elimination, because I certainly knew what I wasn’t looking for.

  It became apparent quickly that finding the right combination of intelligence, humor, personality and charisma was going to be like the proverbial needle in a haystack. Out of several hundred responses (who knew there were that many horny men out there?), only a few warranted a return email. Perhaps I was being picky, but I really didn’t think being able to spell orgasm without being spotted a vowel was asking too much.

  3

  After several promising emails back and forth with a man who took the time to spell check and showed some interesting hints of personality, I agreed to meet for a drink at a local hotel bar. According to his emails of the previous days, he was recently divorced himself and slowly wading back into the dating world. Gainfully employed as an engineer and still sporting most of his original hair (if his emailed picture was to be believed), he was quite the catch, although the attention I was looking for honestly was a little farther south than my heart.

  First impressions are always important, so when Mark stood up from his bar stool to greet me and hold out my chair, I smiled warmly and relaxed. We had left things fairly vague in our emails, agreeing to nothing more than meeting for a drink and seeing if there existed an attraction. Mark looked better in person than his email picture, standing about six foot even, short dirty blonde hair and a sparkle in his eyes that spoke of intelligence and passion. He was certainly not physically imposing by any means, but there was something commanding about his personality that made him stand out in the crowd.

  Any apprehension I had about meeting this stranger for a drink disappeared as we chatted for a few minutes about our respective lives. We talked about our divorces. He instigated his after finding out his wife was cheating on him. “It was such a cliché” he said, “she reconnected with an old high school friend through Facebook. She started spending more time online than she ever had in the past. The warning signs were there, I just thought I meant more to her than that.”

  I told him what it felt like when my husband came home one evening and said he wanted a divorce. No argument, no reason he would articulate, he just wanted out. It was only when I threatened to contest the divorce did he admit to “having met someone”.

  “For three days I went back and forth between hiring the most aggressive ball-busting lawyer I could find to take every penny he ever even thought of making, and crying myself to sleep. I found myself arguing passionately about saving a marriage that we both had neglected for way too long. Looking back, I think I was simply scared of being alone after all that time together.”

  Mark nodded slowly as I talked, empathy etched on his features. I ordered a second glass of white wine while he had another Jack & Coke. As we talked about mundane things such as work and family, I almost forgot for a moment what had drawn us here together. Then again, I was wearing a thong for the first time in at least a decade and spilling out of a low-cut top I rushed out to buy after agreeing to this meeting.

  Mark definitely appreciated the view as I could see him sneaking a glance at my cleavage every so often, but he also had a way of maintaining eye contact that I found very engaging and charismatic. When I paused for a moment after finishing another painful divorce anecdote, Mark set his drink down and started to speak.

  “Let me ask you something Summer. And let me preface it by saying I respect you too much already to waste your time. What is it that you are looking for?”

  I started to open my mouth to answer then thought better of it and sat quietly for a moment, taking another sip of wine while I pondered the question.

  I took a deep breath and feeling the color rushing to my cheeks I began to speak.

  “I haven’t been with a man since my husband left me and even before then, it had been awhile. I miss the intimacy of feeling a man beside me and to be completely honest, inside me. It occurred to me when I arrived that there are rooms available above this bar and that we are indeed two adults of consenting age and intent, so to speak. Is that too forward of me to admit?”

  He glanced down at the table for a moment as if he were making a decision before speaking. “I appreciate the honesty Summer, believe me. It is refreshing to meet a woman that is not afraid of being honest and admitting she has desires and needs. I think you are a lovely woman and that makes what I am going to say next that much harder. I want something more than a one night stand, so while part of me would love nothing more than to take you upstairs, I’m going to respectfully decline.”

  “Before you stand up and storm off, because I can see the lightning that just flashed in your eyes, please hear me out. When I say I want something more than a one night stand, it doesn’t mean I’m looking for any more of a commitment than you are.”

  I struggled to keep the anger out of my voice as I responded. “I don’t understand what you are saying. You don’t want to sleep with me, you want something more, but you don’t want a commitment.” My voice started to rise as I continued. “It sounds to me like you have no idea what you want.”

  “Trust me Summer, I absolutely do want to sleep with you. Very much as a matter of fact, but I have something in mind that I want to propose. You and I both married early in our lives, and you have admitted in our emails that you have fairly limited sexual experience. True?”

  “True.” I said.

  “What if I said I had an idea to expand that experience, in a way that would give us both a great deal of fun and pleasure? No pressure, no expectations, just an idea that has been in the back of my mind for awhile? Would that interest you? Before you answer, I’m going to make your decision even harder. I’m going to ask that if you say yes, you do so with the full intent that I will decide how we move forward, when, where, and how. From our emails and our conversation I know that you have always felt like you had to be the one in control. What I have in mind requires you to give up that control and trust me. I know it is a lot to ask, after all we’ve just met.” Mark glanced down at the table again, almost seeming a little shy now that he had verbalized his desire.

  “I honestly don’t expect, nor want you to answer right now” he continued. “Give it some thought. I know it was not what you were expecting tonight. I will respect and honor whatever decision you make. And with that I shall bid you adieu for now.”

  I’m sure that I probably could have caught flies in my gaping mouth as I sat there stunned that Mark had gotten up and left. The longer I sat there, the angrier I got. “How dare he leave me sitting here alone” I thought. “How dare he turn me down! What kind of man turns down an offer like the one I gave him? I’m wearing a thong for this?!!”

  4

  My mood had not lightened much by the time I dragged myself into work the following day. My staff of eccentric programmers and hardware techs did not seem to notice the dark storm clouds hovering over my head. After the third time I snapped at a minor offense I realized that I needed more caffeine and to put last night out of my mind. Somehow I should have known that was not meant to be.

  As I was hiding in my office reviewing weekly status reports, my assistant Melissa knocked on the door and leaned around the frame tentatively as if she were half expecting to lose her head. “Come in Melissa. I’m fine, just a little tired this morning” I said half-truthfully. Melissa looked at me for a moment before saying “the guard desk called, they are sending someone up to see you.”

  Sure enough a moment later there was an additional knock on the door frame and someone carrying a huge bouquet of beautiful yellow roses entered the office. “Delivery for a Ms. Summer Daniels” the young man from the florist said. “That’s me.” I spoke as I rose from behind my desk. After tipping the delivery man and sending him on his way, I examined the bouquet more closely. There was a small envelope attached to a single red rose in the center of what looked like maybe two dozen lon
g stemmed yellow roses. On the front of the envelope it simply said “Summer”. “Who are they from?” Melissa inquired. “I have no idea” I said, “but I have a feeling.” I opened the envelope and pulled out a small card that had nothing on it but a website address in small type.

  http://www.summersjourneyofdiscovery.com.

  Not necessarily wanting to share the details of my personal life, or lack thereof, with my staff – I said to Melissa, “they seem to be from my date last night, but I’m not 100% sure. Assure the team that I’ve had more caffeine at this point and I promise not to bite anyone’s head off. I will see you all at the staff meeting.”

  After Melissa took my less than subtle hint and left, closing the door behind her, I turned to my computer and typed in the website address from the card.

  A web page that consisted of an old piece of scroll parchment filled the screen. I read the following:

  Summer,

  First of all, let me apologize for leaving you sitting there alone last night. You have no idea how hard it was to get up and walk away from such a beautiful, intelligent, desirable woman. Knowing that we could have spent the night together instead of apart has me questioning my sanity on a very regular basis this morning.

  Secondly, I hope you have had the time and inclination to give some thought to what I proposed last night. I know it is a lot to ask of you to trust me, but that is indeed what I am asking. I guarantee you many laughs, much pleasure and perhaps even some insight into yourself if you decide to join me on this journey.

  I have built this website so that you can take as long as you would like to decide. At the bottom of this page are two simple buttons. One says “Yes”, the other, as you might imagine, “No”. When you have decided, simply return to this page and click on your choice. Do not worry about someone else stumbling across this website and clicking one of the buttons. I have included a simple verification question that is specific to you.

  Regardless of what you decide, please know it was my great pleasure to meet you.

  Mark

  I eyed the buttons at the bottom of the page. Instinctively I moved my mouse so that my cursor hovered over the “No” button. I hesitated and thought about how much I was looking forward to spending the evening with Mark upstairs in that hotel last night, until he dropped his bombshell and walked out on me. Being in the Information Technology field, I appreciated the effort he went to in order to setup a website specifically for the purpose of his note. I decided to give it some more thought. I closed the browser window and half-heartedly went off to my staff meeting.

  5

  Two nights and one spectacularly unsatisfying session with my vibrator later, I found myself back at the website, re-reading Mark’s note. “Many laughs, much pleasure” is the phrase that I kept coming back to. I had buried myself in my work since the separation and divorce and I thought that I’d probably settle for the many laughs. My staff definitely thought I was much too serious I’m sure, but you don’t get ahead as a woman in the IT field unless you are all business. I gave a little thought to how nice it might be to actually not be in control for once, to let someone else worry about the details. Taking an unladylike gulp of my wine, I impulsively took a deep breath and clicked the “Yes” button.

  The words on the original note wiped away and a single question appeared on the screen.

  Right or wrong, what (not who) do I blame for my ex-wife’s infidelity?

  A blank input field stood empty awaiting a response. I knew from my discussion with Mark that he blamed Facebook for having provided his ex-wife with easy access to her former high school “friend”. I typed “Facebook” and hit the button marked “Submit”.

  I smiled as fireworks filled the screen for a few moments. The screen went blank and words started appearing once again.

  Summer,

  You have no idea how happy I am that you chose to click “Yes”. I am honored by the level of trust you have shown in me. I promise you I will do anything and everything to show you that trust has not been misplaced. In an effort to give you some level of comfort with this decision, you will find the following on the next few pages:

  1) Full background information

  2) Employment history

  3) A complete medical history, including blood test results

  I hope this information alleviates some of your concerns. Once you have had a chance to review everything, go ahead and click on the “Okay” button and we’ll get started. I promise that everything will certainly not be this impersonal going forward, but being a computer professional, I thought you might appreciate this beginning.

  Mark

  I clicked through some of the information that followed even though I really did not feel it was completely necessary. I did appreciate the thought behind providing it however. Mark was essentially laying his life out as an open book and inviting me to decide whether or not it was worthwhile to keep reading.

  As I sipped a little more wine and paged through Mark’s website, a thought suddenly occurred to me that stopped me in my tracks. How had he gotten those blood tests, put together all that information and put it online in the few days since our meeting? Clicking back through the medical information to the blood test results, I took note of the test date, just about a month ago. That was weeks before our first email interaction. Why had he felt compelled to get the blood tests?

  Feeling my cheeks flush with warmth that had nothing to do with the glasses of wine, I fired off an angry email dripping with sarcasm.

  Mark,

  Reading through the information you have so “thoughtfully” provided online, it has become obvious that you did not simply put all of this together just for me. What number am I on your list? To how many other women have you made this “wonderful offer”?

  I have to admit you almost had me fooled into thinking that you were one of the good guys. I would wish you good luck with this pitiful approach of yours, but instead I’ll just wish you good riddance.

  Summer

  I turned away from the computer feeling foolish and a little angrier than was probably justified. It was going to be a simple meaningless sexual encounter with a virtual stranger. So why did I feel so betrayed?

  I started to head to the kitchen to drown myself in more wine when my email program chimed at me. I stared at the screen and saw that Mark had responded almost immediately. I started to delete it without reading, but my curiosity got the better of me.

  Summer,

  One of the things that I admire most about you is your intelligence. I had no doubt that you would notice the test date and realize I put this information together before our meeting. You asked what number you were on my “list”. You are number one. THE ONLY ONE. I have been on a number of dates over the past year since my divorce, but you are the ONLY woman I have felt this connection with. And you are most definitely the only woman I went through the trouble of setting up a website for. And the only woman I gave all my background information or sent flowers to. Once again I must ask you to simply trust me.

  Mark

  P.S. – I hope you will allow me to prove to you that I AM one of the “good guys”.

  6

  I turned off the computer and climbed into bed. Mark’s explanation certainly made sense on the surface, but how could I know for sure? Not predisposed to a lot of introspection I nevertheless lay awake for awhile thinking about why I got angry and felt betrayed. Was it possible I felt more for Mark than attraction?

  After the jolt to my system the previous evening, my intent was to make Mark twist in the wind a few days without any further response on my part. Sitting through yet another meeting where time seemed to stand still, I realized life was really too short to play games. Back in my office I closed the door and opened up Mark’s website. Part of me expected to see more fireworks when I clicked “Okay”, but instead the iconic dancing baby from the old Ally McBeal television show filled the screen. The baby danced around for a few moments then bent down and picked
something up. When it straightened back up it was holding a sign that read “I thank you again for your trust.”

  I was increasingly impressed with Mark’s technical computer skills. If nothing else came of this unusual dalliance, I was considering offering him a job in my IT department. The dancing baby dissolved and a word spun into view from the right of the screen, centering itself and growing larger until it dominated the screen:

  CONTROL

  The word shrunk until it no longer took up the entire screen. A definition appeared below the word.

  (Control: to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command.)

  The screen dissolved again and was replaced by the old fashioned scroll I had seen before. Ink splotches splattered the paper then resolved into text.

  Summer,

  I told you when we met that if you chose to move forward on this journey with me that you would do so with the full knowledge that I intend to take control. Control is an interesting concept. It has two distinct sides. In order for me to take control, you have to be willing to give it up. In my opinion, control is all about trust. You have to trust that I have our mutual best interests at heart.