by Hadley Quinn
He leaned forward across the table. “Dude. She talked to me about burying her cat. For forty minutes. Forty. Fucking. Minutes.”
I made a face.
“Yeah. So shut up. I’m beginning to think that damn saying ‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride’ can apply to men, too. ‘Always the wingman, never the man’.”
Okay, that made me laugh. But when he didn’t even crack a smile, I stopped laughing. “Madden, when are you ever my wingman? I don’t really need…”
I was going to say that I didn’t need help getting women. He was already giving me that look that said yeah I know.
“You want me to ask Sasha to loan some friends?” As soon as it left my mouth, I regretted it. But Madden didn’t take offense. Or at least he didn’t act like it. I went back to his earlier mention. “Okay, so what if I could get Sinclair to meet you? What would you do? I mean what would you want to happen or how would you want me to go about it?”
He seemed interested again. “Emmet went to her work, right? I mean he sent you a picture of her desk. What if you went in there and asked for her?”
“And what would I say?”
“I don’t know, introduce yourself.”
“No, what do I say to the people to let me see her? I can’t just walk in there, Madden. You know there are probably entryways, reception desk, hallways, security…”
“Ask Emmet how he did it.”
“Uh, with a badge, you dildo.” And I really didn’t want to talk about Emmet.
He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. I was beginning to think this obsession of his was getting out of hand.
“Just email her yourself,” I said. “What’s it gonna hurt? And she answered mine, maybe she’ll answer yours.”
“Yeah right. Not when she sees this—” he motioned to himself “—compared to that.” He motioned to me.
I was beginning to feel irritated. I know, I know, I wasn’t necessarily the most patient person. Madden was my best friend and he was obviously stressed out about this. But I felt like I was back in the bowels of high school again. And worse yet, it was like listening to a group of girls panic about their guy problems.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my emails. I found Sinclair’s and clicked to reply to her most recent one.
“What are you doing?” Madden asked.
Ignoring him, I sent a quick message to her and pressed ‘send’ before I could change my mind. “Trying to help you out. I told her there was a mix-up and the flowers were actually from you.”
He opened his mouth to respond, and then shut it. I think he was going to throw a bit of attitude at me but decided against it. “Hmm. Okay. I guess that’s not so bad.”
“Nothing hurt. Just see where it goes.”
There was a loud cheer on the other side of the room. Something to do with the raffle Chloe was doing. The bar was loud anyway, but it was a bit more crowded than I’d ever seen it. A lot of people had come to support the children’s hospital.
We stayed another hour, donated some more money, and then split. It was eleven o’clock by the time I got home, and when I climbed into bed, I checked my email once more. I was hoping to hear back from a couple that was interested in using me to design for them, but instead of that email, I saw one from Sinclair instead.
Curious, I opened it. I skimmed her message a few different times; disappointed one second, confused another, yet somewhat pleased overall. It wasn’t what I expected to hear, so I guess that threw me for a minute. But then again, I’m not sure what I thought I’d get in response.
Dane,
Sorry to hear it was a mix-up. Mostly I’m kind of embarrassed I emailed you a thank you. That was very presumptuous of me and I apologize. I hope I don’t come off sounding rude, but I’m not really interested in your coworker. I rarely engage in repeat emails to someone, so you’ve been an exception. I would like to talk to you about the police officer that inquired about my flowers, though. Please email me back to at least ease my concern.
Thank you,
Sinclair
Yeah, I’m sure I’d made the situation worse by adding Emmet to the mix. And now I wasn’t even sure if I could trust him, so I had no idea what my next move was. I still didn’t know who sent me those flowers, but thankfully nothing else weird had happened since.
Maybe I really did need to take things into my own hands.
I grabbed my laptop so I didn’t have to type on my phone. Responding to Sinclair made me extremely anxious. I was beginning to realize how stupid it was to interact with her in the first place. It was one thing to thank her for what she did for Chloe’s coffee shop, but I didn’t have to gain a personal interest in her. She knew who I was but I had no idea who the hell she was.
However, the matter of the flowers needed to be resolved. I decided to message her back, even if it was just to figure that out. I wasn’t going to worry about her identity anymore, even if Madden begged me. Yes, I wanted to solve a mystery, but this shit was driving me nuts.
Sinclair,
I found a bouquet of flowers on my front porch after I’d sent yours except they were loaded with dozens of huge spiders. So yeah, after you thanked me for them, I thought you somehow found out where I lived. Honestly, it’s all kind of crazy and I don’t know what else to say about it. But I do think I should stop messaging with you since it’s kind of awkward, and perhaps unsafe, for me to interact with someone I’ve never met.
I wish you the best,
Dane
I read it over several times, just to make sure I wasn’t leaving out anything important or forgot to add something I should have included. When it seemed good enough, I sent it.
It took me almost two hours to fall asleep that night. I was thinking about too many things. I woke up tired, but after getting some housework done, washing and fueling up my truck, I was ready for the road trip to Seattle. Because I’d invited Sasha and my sister, we took two different vehicles. A bunch of twenty-somethings and not one of us was the owner of an SUV or a car that could hold five grown adults.
But I was okay with that. I just had Sasha in my truck since Madden claimed he was going to sleep in the back seat of Chris’s. It was probably true, but I knew he’d much rather be a third wheel with those two than with us. He was thoughtful that way.
The ride to Seattle went well. I wasn’t expected to talk much or constantly come up with conversations. Sasha took care of that and kept things flowing.
When we got to Safeco Field and met up with Chris, Chloe, and Madden, we got through the gate an hour before game time—which was the plan. We meandered around the park for a bit, and that was when Sasha and my sister chatted with each other the most. Our seats were above the first baseline and we sat a few minutes before the national anthem.
Less than an hour later, I could tell Madden was getting restless. “Okay, dude,” he sort of sighed and groaned at the same time. “It’s technically your turn, but I’ll give you a free pass this time.”
I chuckled, knowing he was referring to grabbing food. The third inning wasn’t even over, though, which was when we generally made the break. But I was hungry too, and being that I was a taller guy at six-two, I could always use the opportunity to stretch for a bit. I volunteered, but just as I stood and was going to invite Sasha to come with me, my sister snaked my seat to finish a story she’d been telling her earlier.
I didn’t mind in the least bit. I liked my space and my time alone, even if it did consist of hundreds of other people milling about at the same time. I made my way to my favorite stand just as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I glanced at the blocked number to decline it, but decided to accept the call anyway. I’m not even sure why.
“Hel-lo,” I answered as I stopped in line for food. I wasn’t sure if someone responded or not, but I asked again: “Hello?”
“Oh, um, is this Dane Thomas?” a female voice asked.
I kid you not, I recognized it right away. But being that I was seriously doub
ting she’d actually be calling me, I dryly replied, “Mmhmm.”
“Well… This is Sinclair. From the radio?”
27
I’ll admit, my first thought was a sarcastic one and I was going to commend Madden for a job well done on impersonating her voice. But…
“Dane? I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
I realized Madden was not playing a joke on me and it really was her. Either that, or I was about to make a huge fool of myself.
“Uh, no. Um… Just let me go somewhere, uh, somewhere I can talk.”
“You’re busy,” she concluded. “I’ll call back another—”
“No, I’m just grabbing food at a game. I have a minute. What’s up?” I quickly maneuvered toward a section of the stadium where I could step to a balcony. It was for smoking, but I didn’t even care.
I thought maybe she’d already hung up, but thankfully she answered, “I just thought it’d be better to clear the air over the phone, you know? Instead of emailing back and forth, and where translation could get lost. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, definitely.” She had a point, and yes I was on a date with another woman, but this didn’t really fall into a classic category, did it? “But how did you get my number?” I added.
There was a brief pause. “Well, um, I kind of called your firm yesterday and…told the receptionist you asked me to call you on your cell phone but that I’d lost your number…”
I rolled my eyes thinking about how gullible Angie was.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just felt it would be better to talk privately…”
I shrugged it off. “Okay, well…go ahead, I guess. What’s on your mind?”
“Well I’ll be very honest with you, I’m just really upset about the whole police thing and the flowers, and you thinking I did something like that,” she said. “I want some answers.”
I waited for a few beats to make sure it was my turn to speak. “Well…so do I. And I’m sorry about my friend coming to the station. He was here when I saw them on my porch. He’s a family friend…”
She paused when I trailed off. “Well no, I’m not upset that you had someone look into it—I truly understand that—I’m just upset that it happened. I need to know how or why or it’s going to drive me crazy.”
The irony of that was somewhat humorous. My desire to know who this woman was had basically been the cause of all this. I felt responsible, so of course I was going to be cooperative. “I’m in the same boat. Maybe we can figure it out together.”
I must have been out on that smokers’ balcony for ten minutes or so while we talked. I’d completely lost track of time and hadn’t even noticed that both Madden and Sasha had texted me to see if I needed help with anything—and then later asking if I was okay. When I was done speaking to Sinclair, I found the barbecue stand that I’d originally set out for and stood in line, and two minutes later someone nudged me in the side.
“I can’t believe it takes this long,” Sasha said. “Was the line that long?”
I had a guilty conscience instantly. At first I thought she knew exactly what I’d been doing and exactly whom it’d been with, and I automatically assumed she was tossing allegations at me. But I told myself to not be so sensitive and brushed off my worry.
“I got a phone call and took it away from the noise so I could hear better,” I explained. “I just now got back in line.”
She nodded but was reading the menu up on the board. “Wow, I hope everything is going to be okay.”
I gave her a side-glance. “With what?”
She shrugged as she faced me again. “I don’t know, you spend that much time on the phone at a baseball game you paid good money for, it must have been important.”
Seriously, did she know? I guess my guilt was enough for me to realize I should tell her, but then again, it was only my second date with her. Plus, I didn’t feel like I’d done anything wrong. The situation with Sinclair wasn’t really black-and-white and I wasn’t sure if Sasha would understand that.
I never did have to reply because it was my turn to order, and ultimately it was good that Sasha was there to lend a hand. I would have had to call one of them to come help me anyway.
We returned to our seats and I handed out the food and drinks. Madden gave me a questioning look, but I replied silently and he knew not to ask. I was glad I could count on him that way.
After the game, we loaded back into our vehicles and headed for home. At the beginning of the evening I’d kind of had hopes for some bump-and-grind after the game, maybe stopping at a hotel? Making a full night of the date? —But now, after the phone call with Sinclair, being a dirty bastard didn’t feel right. Why the fuck was that? I seriously didn’t do anything wrong.
Did I?
It was almost two a.m. when I pulled up to Sasha’s townhouse. The ride home had been decent, and Sasha had easily kept the conversation flowing.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked after I opened the truck door for her. She didn’t actually slide out, but just turned her body toward me and remained seated.
I hadn’t even kissed this woman and she was inviting me in? I guess I couldn’t automatically assume we were going to have sex, but the age-old invite to come in came with a lot of sexual history behind it.
Instead of answering right away, I stepped closer to her. She parted her knees when I made contact with them, and allowed me to step between her legs. “I had a really good time with you tonight.”
Her eyes were fixed on mine and she nodded. “Me too. You’re an easy guy to be with.”
Now that was music to my ears. I liked to think that I was a laid back guy and easy to get along with. For a woman to point that out was a major compliment.
“So are you,” I smiled. And she was. She was low maintenance, and definitely a sweet piece of eye candy to be with all night. It made me think of Emily and Perry’s comment that we’d look good together.
I was beginning to think that too.
“So is that a yes?” she asked, and she nodded toward her townhouse.
I didn’t know if she just wanted to get inside to bang one another or if I was allowed to take a couple of steps beforehand, but I wanted to kiss her first. Not to sound like a prick, but if she was a lousy kisser, it could be a deal breaker. If she really was a turnoff, I could be the sweet, thoughtful guy to give her a nice kiss goodnight and head home. Nothing bad on my part.
I did lean forward and collect her face in my hands. This woman truly was a breathtaking sight. I found myself silently praying that she wouldn’t disappoint me, and when I kissed her, I told myself to fuck off and teach her how to do it right if it was necessary. She was pretty perfect on all accounts; I could help her out with a kissing flaw, right? And what if she was flawed there but gave awesome head instead. I mean I could work with that. Compromise. But great lips giving a great blowjob…she’d have to be a good kisser, too. There’s no way—
Shut the fuck up, I told myself. Mainly because her tongue was in my mouth at that point. She’d pulled me close and we kissed harder; that build up from tentative and careful went by pretty quickly because it was already the hungry, I-want-to-fuck-you-now kind of kissing.
She pushed me back a step so she could slide off the seat. I barely got the truck door shut when she grabbed my hand and pulled me to the house. We resumed kissing the second we were inside and it took less than a minute before it moved to a hallway and then a bedroom. I’d say you could make an easy conclusion from there but…
Things kind of changed. I flipped the light on to get an idea of my surroundings, but she flipped it off. Okay, all right, I’m cool with that. I wanted to take some time undressing her, but she was in my pants and had my cock out before I could even work my magic at getting her wet. I mean I had some moves I wanted to use, just to make sure she was ready to go. But if she wanted to take the lead on this, then sure, I was okay with that. I liked aggressive women.
She sucked my dick for a total of ten
seconds. Not that I’m complaining or anything, because I was definitely turned on, but she dragged me to the bed and started removing her own clothes. It was dark, but there was streetlight coming through the window and it was enough to where I could see a bit. But I was disappointed that I couldn’t fully enjoy seeing her body, or feel it as I stripped her naked myself.
I guess you can never expect anything in particular when you have sex with someone for the first time, but I thought maybe she was going to throw me down and ride me for a bit—I mean that’s why she didn’t spend too much time sucking me, right? And she was moving pretty fast—I barely had time to put a condom on—so I was surprised when we went straight into missionary sex.
And that’s pretty much it. I mean I made her come, but any time I’d try to move her for something different, I got shut down. You know as a guy you try to respect what the woman is comfortable with, but I was a bit confused. Sex is sex, and yeah I got off too, but the whole thing just seemed so…
Boring.
And GOD, did I not want to admit that!
I laid there for a couple of minutes—by myself because Sasha had already hopped off the bed to go clean up in the bathroom—and thought about how we went from amazing kissing to rushed orgasms. It was almost as if…
As if that was her sole purpose. Was I seriously just used for sex?
She came out of the bathroom and yawned. I mean it was believable, even. “What a long day, I’m so exhausted.” She stopped at the side of the bed but didn’t rejoin me.
Message received, lady. I mean you didn’t even have to do the fucking six hours of driving earlier, but okay.
I walked to the bathroom with my dick waning with every step. Literally. I mean physical and emotional defeat right there. I disposed of the condom, washed up, found my clothes, gave her some bullshit agreement that I was tired too, and told her goodnight.
Hot woman definitely did not mean hot sex, and that was the fastest number drop in the history of my rating system.
I stripped her of her 9.5 and assigned her a 6 instead.
