“God, yes.”
“So you really want that, do you?”
“You’re cruel. Are you going to make me beg for it?”
“Maybe.”
“Please . . . Paul, are you touching yourself? Because I am.”
I pause.
“Maybe.”
“Mmm.”
I feel myself unraveling from this conundrum of a woman with her dirty mouth. I’ve never known a female I couldn’t figure out at all until I met her. When I hear her moan again my mind goes to a visual of her with legs spread and her hand in her panties. I swallow hard.
“Elle, what are you thinking about when you ride your vibrator?”
“That I’d rather it was you.”
Damn. “Yeah?”
“Or more specifically, your anaconda.”
“I bet you’d like that.” My fingers tighten over the phone, my other hand tightens over my cock.
“You can teach me to be bad. Is that big-boy hard?”
I tighten my grasp. “Does the sun shine?”
“You’re killing me here, Paul. Please come fuck me.”
Oh for God’s sake why am I being tested like this?
My heart is pounding as I hear that little bastard speak up—the annoying voice that lives in my head.
You fuck her Paul, and then what? How will you feel in the morning?
My mouth is dry as I respond to her plea with unbearable regret.
“No. I just can’t.”
It’s another tortured night and it’s becoming apparent I’m on a slippery slope and losing more self-control by the day. No more drunken late night phone calls with Ms. Jacoby. That’s for sure. I can’t even believe the stuff I said to her. Ride your vibrator? What the hell am I doing?
I go in late to work the next morning so I can go straight to a meeting. Jim studies me as I approach him.
“Rough night?”
“Yeah, and rough morning too.”
He nods with a sympathetic gaze. “Well you came to the right place.”
That afternoon at work I finish going over the plans for tomorrow’s meeting at the Taylor project when a thought occurs to me. I call my old hook-up buddy Gabriel. Thank God I’m so much calmer than I was earlier.
“Hey, Gabe, you free after work to catch a beer?”
“I’m free now. My day’s over already. You still at work?”
I glance at my watch. It’s not that early before the time I usually take off. “I could head over there now.”
“Brennigans?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in about twenty.”
Gabe’s already parked at the bar with a beer and watching the game when I walk past the studio techs and grips that are gathered around the pool tables. The wood paneling on the walls makes everything darker through the haze of smoke wafting in from the patio. I buy a beer and then nod to him for us to move to a booth. He’s changed out of his working gear. I almost didn’t recognize him all cleaned up.
I still can’t believe that Gabe stayed in L.A. after high school to work for my dad while I went off to college.
“What’s up, Paul? We haven’t done this in a while. You still watching your partying?”
“Yeah . . . among other things.”
“He gives me a knowing look. Well, your dad says you’re doing great, but if you don’t mind my saying so it doesn’t sound like you’re having much fun.”
I hate admitting to myself that I miss when we used to go out looking to score.
“How about you?”
“No complaints. I’ve got season tickets for the Clippers and I have plenty of other fun too.”
“Got a girlfriend yet?”
“Hell no. Who needs the headache? I’m still playing the field . . . sampling all the flavors. Why settle for one, when there’s so many to choose from?”
He holds up his beer in a toast and we clink bottles.
I lean in toward him. “While we’re on the subject there’s something I want to ask you about.”
“Yeah?”
“Tinder.”
He chuckles. “So you’re telling me you’re ready to have fun. Are you going to start clubbing with me again?”
“No, I’m helping a friend.”
“Sure you are. That’s as good a bogus reason as any, my man.”
I glance around our booth and make sure no one I know is nearby. “Can you show me how it works?”
“Yeah, no problem. It’s a really easy way to get laid. I use it all the time.”
He pulls out his phone and opens the app, flipping through the most recent women interested in connecting with him. He swipes the screen to the right when he’s interested, to the left when he isn’t.
“So what happens to those girls?” I ask.
“Poof. They’re gone.”
“Whoa. Really?”
“Yeah, see how easy it is. And only the ones you keep can contact you. That’s how you arrange the hook up.”
“Can I see who you’ve kept?”
He hands me his phone. “Be my guest.”
I’m stunned as I scan through all of the women he’s saved. All of them are do- able, some actually hot. How out of control would I have been if I’d had this when I was on the prowl? “And all of these women live in close range?”
“Close enough. I’ll drive farther if they really turn me on.”
With the next sweep of my finger across the screen I freeze. Elle. She’s wearing a low cut shirt and posed provocatively. She looks like a girl who’d like a little trouble. My heart is pounding.
I hold the phone out to Gabe. “Who’s this one?”
He sighs. “Hot, right?”
I nod. My mouth’s suddenly dry.
He shrugs. “I can’t get her to respond to me. She hasn’t accepted me yet. According to her start date she’s pretty new to Tinder, so who knows what’s up with her. But believe me, the minute she does respond to me I’m going to nail her.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I’m surprised how relieved I am that she hasn’t accepted him. That feeling is followed by feeling like I’m going to have to kick his ass if he ever nails her.
“So what can you do?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Nothing. I can’t send her a message or do anything unless she accepts me. Hey why don’t you get on? Maybe she’ll accept you.”
I glance back down at her picture and become anxious, like I don’t want her on this site . . . other men looking at her, wanting her like I do right now.
He shows me how to check out her other pictures and her statement. I almost knock my beer over as I read it.
I’m a caged bird finally set free.
I want to live big and try things I’ve never done.
I’ve got an open mind, and a free spirit . . . are you ready for me?
Let’s connect . . .
The flush moves up my chest so fast I get dizzy. What the hell, Elle? Does she not understand that men are animals and she’s just asked to be fucked, drawn, and quartered?
Gabe’s expression becomes suspicious. “What?”
I rub my hand over my face before studying her pictures again. “Damn, Elle.”
“Dude. Do you know this girl?”
I nod.
“Can you introduce me? She’s off the flipping charts.”
I shake my head.
“Oh I see how it is,” he grumbles. “I’m your hook-up pimp. Well screw you.”
I throw a tip down on the table and grin. “Screw you too, buddy. I’ve gotta go.”
When I get to her house, her car is parked in the driveway and the porch light is on. I have to ring her doorbell twice, and when she answers she has one sandal on, and the other one in her hand. Her eyes grow wide when she sees me.
“Hey, Paul. What’s up?”
She’s got that lipstick on again.
I realize I didn’t think this out very well. I shouldn’t have just shown up impulsively.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Well, I’m on my way out . . . but I guess I’ve got a sec. Come on in, I’ve got to get my other shoe on.”
I follow her into the living room where she sits on the edge of a chair and straps on a sandal that’s even higher-heeled than the last pair I saw on her.