"That's, that's really nice Tom. Thank you for dinner," I said.
"Thank you for that amazing kiss," he said. Jesus this was so cringey. I tried to keep my pajamas and that mug of tea in mind. I would be home soon and this would all be over.
"You're very welcome," I faked a yawn, "Gosh, I'm tired!" He didn't take the hint.
"Can I have another kiss?" he asked. God, I hated the way he asked. I liked it when guys just took the chance and went for it. Even if I turned out to not be into it I would admire their ballsyness.
I didn't have the heart to refuse him.
"OK, but make it quick," I said. We repeated that same, awkward dry mouthed kiss and I pulled away even more quickly than I did before. Tom looked as if he was seeing stars. It should have been flattering really, to be able to have that effect on a man. But when it was a man that you felt nothing for, it meant nothing. I just wanted to go home.
"Wow," he breathed.
"Yeah, wow. Look Tom, I'm really tired so I better go home now," I started. To my surprise Tom grabbed my hand.
"No, no you can't. Please don't. I don't want you driving when you're this sleepy. My bed is so soft and comfy, you'll get a great night's sleep there Lola. I'll keep my hands to myself if you need me to. I just don't want this date to end, not yet."
It was pathetic and embarrassing to hear a grown man beg like that. I really wasn't that special, but I couldn't imagine that Tom got laid very often. In our years apart I had forgotten how clingy and needy that he could be.
"I can drive just fine. I think you should go to your apartment now," I said. "But Lola."
"-Goodbye Tom."
The poor boy looked heartbroken but I had to be firm with him. He asked for another kiss and I said no, so he got out of the car. I pulled away and he stood there, watching me drive until he couldn't see me anymore.
Maybe being single wasn't so bad after all.
Vince
It should have occurred to me that a woman as beautiful as Lola would be dating other guys. I mean, why wouldn't she? I hadn't promised her anything. She was young, sexy and smart. Any guy would be lucky to nab a date with her. It just unsettled me a little bit. I didn't want to commit to her but at the same time, the thought of her committing to someone else pissed me off. Plus, if she had to commit to someone else, why did it have to be that asshole Tom? I wasn't exactly an expert in what made men attractive to women but he didn't seem like a prime candidate to me. He had a shitty job relying on assholes like me for tips and probably never worked out in his life. What did she see in him?
I replayed the voice mail she had left me again and again. What project was she talking about? Why did I turn her down? It could have been really fun. I should have given her a chance.
I wanted to take my bike out for a spin but I knew that was a bad idea. I was drunk and not feeling like myself. If I got into an accident this time then I certainly wouldn't get off so easy.
I laid in bed and looked up at the ceiling. What was wrong with me?
Chapter Five
Lola
Going back into work after my time at home was what I had been dreading more than anything. I knew that Jennifer would have a thousand questions for me and I wouldn't be able to lie anymore. She'd know that I had lied to her repeatedly and I would be out on my ass quicker than she could say 'biker chic'.
Though every impulse in my body urged me to stay in bed and hide from the world, I forced myself to get up early. I spent a long time doing my makeup and hair and agonized over what outfit I should put on. It felt kind of like I was picking the dress that I would be burred in. If I was going to get fired, I wanted to look good.
In my anxious anticipation I somehow managed to arrive at work forty minutes early. Sitting in the car and waiting for the inevitable was torture. I figured I might as well get this whole business over with before my colleagues arrived at the office to act as spectators. I would be OK I could survive this.
I stood up straight, put my shoulders back and walked into the building. I was unfortunate enough to meet Jennifer in the elevator. She gave me a huge smile, showing off all of her dazzling white veneers.
"Lola, it's great to have you back! Have you lost weight?" she asked, reaching out a long pointed finger to press the button for our floor.
"Yeah, about three pounds," I said. It was amazing how easily weight melted off when your stomach was tied up in permanent knots. Food was the last thing on my mind when everything else in my life seemed to be going haywire.
"That's great, you have to let me know what plan you're on," she said. I wished we could talk about my rapidly shrinking figure all day. My heart sank when she changed the subject to the one that I had been avoiding so well, "So, how are things going with the preparation for the photo shoot? We were thinking next Friday, do you think that will be good for Vince?"
I swallowed. I couldn't tell the truth, not yet. I needed a few more minutes to pretend that everything was OK, that I was great at my job and that Vince would do anything for me.
"Friday sounds good. I'll let him know," I said. The elevator came to a halt at our floor. Jennifer gave me another smile before swanning away to her office to make some important phone calls. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Why hadn't I just ended the lies there and then? All I was doing was torturing myself by dragging this out.
A part of me wanted to give Vince another call but I was scared. I knew that I had made a fool of myself in front of him -I always did when I was drunk. How could I have allowed myself to act that way.
I was a journalist, however, and journalists didn't give up. I would pursue my subject until he gave in to what I wanted. There were no two ways about it.
The main office was empty and Jennifer was working away in her own separate room. If I was going to call Vince then it needed to be right now. I couldn't stall any longer.
I sat down in my cubicle and decided to use the land line phone rather than my cell. That way, if he was intentionally ignoring me, he wouldn't know that I was calling. When he found out he wouldn't be mean enough to hang up on me without hearing me out. It had to work. I told myself it had to work over and over again as I punched in his number.
The phone rang and rang. Each new ring sounded like another nail being slammed into my coffin, but I held on. Eventually, the phone was answered.
"Hello," said Vince, sounding tired, "Who's this?" I took a deep breath.
"Vince, it's Lola who almost killed you," I said. The last part had almost become my second name at this point. "How are you doing?"
He seemed surprised but not unpleasantly so.
"Lola? Oh, hey. What do you want?" he asked. I took another breath and put on my best journalist voice.
"Well you know that project I contacted you about?" I asked, but Vince ignored me. "How was your date with that skinny jerk off, Lola?"
It took a moment for me to realize that Vince was talking about Tom. I shuddered at the memory of our horrific date. That last thing I wanted to do was relive those events in detail by telling him the story.
"Tom? Oh you know, it was OK," I said, as casually as I could. Vince sniggered. "Did you like Gino's?"
OK, now things were getting weird. Since when were Tom and Vince the best of friends? When they'd met the other night I thought that they might start a fight or something. I guess Tom was smart enough not to let that happen, because Vince would have pummeled him. My tone got a little bit rattier.
"Huh? How do you know we went to Gino's? What are you, stalking me or something?" I said, and he laughed at me again. I hated the way he always laughed at me. It made me feel like an idiot. I was an idiot for losing my professionalism. He may have fucked me twice but he was a client and had to be respected. Though he hadn't agreed to be a client just yet.
"I talked to the guy in The Ruby Lounge before your date. He was gonna take you to Burrito Joe's or something, the sap!" he said.
"It was Burrito Bob's," I said, but Vince went on.
"Yeah, yeah
, whatever. I gave him a good tip and told him that you're not a Burrito girl. You're classier than that. I said that Gino's would be good for you. How was his Italian pronunciation? I bet it was funny as fuck," he said. My mouth opened in shock. That lovely, romantic restaurant had been all Vince's idea? Before Tom started getting weird, I had actually been impressed with his choice. It had really been Vince's choice all along though. That felt weird to me.
"His Italian was just fine," I said, deciding not to mention that his kissing left a lot to be desired, "And I'd thank you to keep your nose and your money out of my dating life, especially since you've made it clear that you don't want to be a part of it."
Vince was silent at the other end of the phone. I was afraid he would hang up. I was afraid that he would say that he wanted to be a part of my dating life. I was afraid that he was say that he didn't want to be a part of it. I was afraid, period. Eventually, he spoke.
"So, what was this project that you keep nagging me about?"
I hadn't expected him to be so amenable to what I had to say. Maybe I wasn't completely screwed after all?
So I told Vince everything about the photo shoot idea and how it would be really amazing if he could help me out and how it might even help the new accessory line out a bit. I tried to sound as convincing as I could but I could hear him sighing half way through.
"What?" I asked, feeling my skin getting hot, "What's wrong with that?" He sighed again.
"I just don't feel like the women who buy your magazine are the same people who want to buy bike helmets and leather gloves," he said. No. Fuck no. There was no fucking way I was letting him slip away from this.
"You'd be surprised. A lot of our readers are very edgy people," I said, and then I lowered my voice in case that Jennifer was eavesdropping, "And it would really help me out, like a lot. Like, it might actually save my job."
"Oh, so it's that kind of situation then? You sure that I can actually help?" His voice had softened a bit. It was working.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
There was a pause as he thought things over. All I could hear was his breathing on the other end of the phone and my heartbeat, which seemed to be going at one hundred miles an hour.
"I'll do it," he said, and I couldn't help but shriek with relief.
"Really? Oh my god Vince, you have no idea how you're saving my ass!"
"Jesus, my ears! Keep it down Lola!" he scolded. I lowered my voice so that it was barely a whisper.
"OK OK, I'm sorry. Is this better?" I said. He laughed.
"Yeah, that's a whole lot better. You should try not talking at all, I think it would suit you," he said, "But I'm glad your ass is OK"
"Thanks to you, my hero," I said. I was being a little bit over the top now but Vince seemed to like it. Men always go for that damsel in distress shit.
"Wait, don't thank me yet. I'll do it, but I have conditions that have to be met," he said. "Like what?"
"Like, you have to promise me that you'll never go out with that creep Tom again," he said. I made him repeat it because I was sure I had misheard him. So he practically threw money at the guy to make sure he brought me on a good date and now he was making me swear that I'd never see him again. It was weird. Still, if it landed me the deal then I didn't care. It wasn't like I was exactly excited to see Tom again anyway.
"Deal. Is that it?" I said. I was starting to get a bit impatient now but I tried my best not to show it. "No, that's not it. My other condition is that you don't ever mention the word boyfriend or girlfriend or any of that lovey dovey shit around me again, OK?" Oh god. Had I said something lovey dovey to him when I was drunk? How embarrassing. I didn't feel that way about Vince anyway. Obviously he was sexy as fuck and an amazing lover, that was great. Even his personality wasn't so bad. He made me laugh sometimes but the idea of him being my boyfriend was ridiculous. How could I bring a guy like that home to my parents at Thanksgiving? There was no way.
"Oh god, I'll try my best," I said sarcastically, trying to cover for my embarrassment, "Any more conditions then?"
"Yes. One more. The last condition is that I get to see you again," he said. I hadn't been expecting that, especially after his rant about lovey dovey shit. My voice went quiet.
"I'll have to think about that one."
Vince
My thoughts seemed to be getting muddier and muddier when it came to Lola. I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted to be single and continue my life of fucking different girls every night and building bikes during the day. I wanted Lola to stay single and avoid creeps like that jack ass from the bar. I wanted to see her, and not just when we were fucking. I wanted to have sex with her, but that was nothing new. I wanted to get to know her. When I made my dinner in the evening I wondered if Lola like Mexican food like I did, or if maybe she preferred Chinese or Italian. When I watched TV I wondered if Lola would like all the gory action movies and slashers that I liked. Probably not. She probably liked more girly shows about fashion and stuff. Still, she was so good at surprising me that there was a good chance that she was into the blood and guts like I was. Even if she wasn't it would be fun having her hide her head in my chest every time someone else got stabbed or decapitated or impaled. The fantasy of watching a movie with her had replaced my normal, sexual daydreams and that scared the shit out of me. I couldn't hide it anymore. I wanted to know her. It was new and scary to me but that was what I wanted.
Seemingly, I wanted to help her too because I agreed to be part of this ridiculous photo shoot. When I told Brett he raised his eyebrows at me.
"A photo shoot in a fashion magazine? What are we, a shoe store?" he asked. I assured him that yes, it was a fashion magazine but that it would be very good publicity for our store and the accessory line and that we'd be fools not to do it. Brett kept shaking his head in disbelief until he somehow managed to put two and two together with that tiny brain of his, "Wait,, that chick Laura who almost kills you works at that magazine, doesn't she?"
I sighed. Shit, I hadn't expected him to figure me out so quickly.
"It's Lola, you fuckwit. And yeah, she does work at the magazine. So what?"
"A ha!" he said, as if he caught me red-handed, "You agreed to this as a favor to your little girlfriend, didn't you?"
The word 'girlfriend' sent that same unpleasant shiver down my spine but Brett soon let it go. He'd gotten laid at the weekend and that was all he wanted to talk about.
She wasn't my girlfriend and never would be. She had promised me, and I intended to keep her to that promise.
Lola wasn't a girlfriend and she no longer counted as a one night stand. Calling her a friend seemed strange and underwhelming, but it was the only word that came close to explaining my feelings. It was normal to feel like this about your friends.
I was sure of it.
Lola
It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders when I finally agreed to Vince's conditions. There was no way that Jennifer could fire me if I delivered exactly what I had promised. I felt amazing and left the office singing under my breath. I even let myself buy a jelly doughnut at the bakery across the street, which Jennifer had banned me from because 'no one wants to see a fat fashion journalist'. Fuck it. I wasn't fat, I was sexy as fuck. I was a career woman, I had fantastic tits and if I kept working as well as I did, I would be promoted in no time at all.
I was so happy and so relieved that I had finally gotten Vince to agree to the shoot. So much so that it took a while for the gravity of his last condition to really hit me. I had to see Vince again though, I had promised myself that I wouldn't do that for a million dollars. He was bad for me, that's what Janey and Allison would say if they knew. They would tell me to give poor, pathetic Tom another shot. Bad boys weren't worth the hassle, they never were. They played with you until they got bored and then sped over to the next girl on their motorcycle, leaving you heartbroken and longing for them. I couldn't let that happen to myself.
I wondered what exactly Vince wanted fro
m me. The obvious conclusion was sex, though that still puzzled me. He was a good looking guy, and even if he wasn't with the blonde bimbo anymore I was sure that he could get any girl he wanted. I knew that my blow job technique was pretty solid and I could ride a dick like no one else, but I really wasn't that special. OK, I hadn't slept with women but I figured that my style of fucking couldn't be that unique. He'd seen what I had to offer, twice now. There were girls out there who had bigger breasts, prettier faces, longer legs and no gag reflexes. Shouldn't Vince already be moving on to his next conquest? It puzzled me quite a bit. Vince was gorgeous, sexy and rich. He could have any girl he wanted and he knew that better than anyone. Why wasn't he taking advantage of that? Guys like that always did. If he didn't want to be my boyfriend so badly, then why did he want to see me? I hadn't even played hard to get.
I decided that my blow jobs skills really were so fucking amazing that they just kept reeling him in. That made me giggle a bit. Maybe Jennifer would let me write this month's sex column and I could share my tips? It wasn't a question I felt like asking.
Vince didn't bother me for a few days so I was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten about that last condition. He loved annoying me so much that I figured maybe this condition was another way to do that. What was surprising was how high my hopes had gotten and how shitty I felt when I thought that they would be destroyed. He wouldn't really tease me like that, would he? I didn't know the guy that well. Maybe he would.
Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle Page 50
