"Even though we're here to help people have lasting connections, we know that one-night stands are going to happen, and in the current dating culture, they're way harder on women than they are on men." Chance half sits on the desk next to me, and I feel like he's his own center of gravity and I'm being pulled toward him. With him so close, and thinking about one-night stands, I can't help but imagine what it would be like to go home with him.
The whole night flashes behind my eyes. Meeting at a bar. Drinking and laughing. Pretending to be surprised when he kisses me before I get in the cab, and secretly being delighted. I'd pull him into the cab with me, and we'd be off to his place. I know myself, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him in the cab, and we'd hardly be able resist giving the cab driver one hell of a show.
We'd barely make it through the door before our clothes were off and he'd have me up against the wall before I could take a breath. All that built up heat would jump back and forth between us, and by the time he's pushing inside of me, I'd be so close that it wouldn't take long for either of us to finish. And then we'd have another drink before moving to the bedroom for round two … and three.
Hell, if I went home with him I'd try for more than three. It's easy to tell that the body under those clothes is pretty much perfect. You don't get to be the CEO and face of a matchmaking company without having the entire package, and if his face looks this good, everything else must be exquisite. My mind is distracted now, forming dark and smudgy images of us tangled together with sheets and nothing else. Slow and pulsing and – oh God yes – I want that.
"Caroline?"
My focus snaps back to him and I realize that I've been staring and that he finished talking a while ago. "Sorry," I say, blushing. "Already thinking about the article."
He smiles, and I get real life, honest to God butterflies. Chance stands. "I'm glad to hear that. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."
"I will. I'll get started right away." I reach for the mouse so I can at least pretend to look like I'm going to start, and I miss, knocking the mouse off the desk. It lands at his feet. Damn it, why am I such a klutz?
"Whoops," I say, trying to sound light. I reach down to get it, and … oh my God.
He's still standing so close to me, and I didn't judge the distance. Now I'm grabbing the mouse and my face is … against him. Right there.
I get myself back into the chair as fast as humanly possible, and I'm pretty sure that all the blood from my body is now in my face. "I'm so sorry," I say. "I swear I'm not usually this awkward. I'm just … nervous."
"That's all right." Chance isn't smiling now, and he doesn't seem angry just … I don't know, shocked? "I'll give you a chance to work. Email me the piece when it's done. My address is already in the email program under my name."
And then he's out the door and I watch him walk down the hall. Two of the office walls are glass and I can see people looking in my direction, which makes me blush even more. I have no doubt that they just saw that. They either think I'm the klutziest girl alive or that the new girl is already hitting on the boss. No matter what, it's a pretty humiliating start to a job that I'm not even sure I have yet.
One thing's for sure though, Alice has got to hear about this.
Four
"Picture this. You're in a bar and you see a guy across the room. He's so hot that you imagine ripping his clothes off right there, damn the audience. But you stop yourself. Why? Because odds are you think that he's out of your league. I'll tell you what, he's not. Men don't think twice about approaching women, and even though it can be terrifying, you should do the same. I don't know about you, but I have way more fun flirting when I'm the one who initiates. There's a reason men like the chase: It's fun, and you should try it."
-How to have a Fantastic One-Night-Stand as a Successful, Independent Woman, Heartmakers.com
I pull out my phone as soon as I'm sure that Chance is out of view. I have no idea if Alice will see this since she's working and she's not technically allowed to have her phone at her station, but she usually does. I text her.
So the CEO is hot. Mega hot. So hot I'm literally melting into the floor. Oh, and the job is amazing. They want me to write articles on sex and dating for their website. I'm writing an article and they're going to read it when I'm finished. I would have an office!
I'm right about the fact that she has her phone with her, because she texts back almost instantly.
OMG. YES. HOT BOSSES ARE THE BEST. Also, ummm, hello that job is perfect for you! How much does it pay?
I forgot to even ask. I was too busy making a fool of myself in front of him. Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it when I get home tonight. But if he doesn't hate this article I'm TOTALLY taking this job even though it makes no sense!
Why wouldn't it make sense?
Because this shit doesn't happen, Alice. People don't just get random job offers from blogs.
EMBRACE IT. You deserve it. Now stop talking to me and write that article! Oh, and if you have the chance to send me a picture of the hottie, please do!
I send her a heart emoji and click my phone off. She's right, I need to get on this article, even though the thought of tracking down a photo of him to send to her is really tempting. I already have the perfect vision of him my head: Sandy blonde hair pushed to the side, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to the elbows and showing off forearms that are just … gorgeous. Forearms are never something that I think of as sexy until I see good ones and then they practically make me salivate.
My mental picture pans down and shows the trim hips and waist and makes me want to find out what's underneath. I've already gotten a feel, even though it was only for a couple of seconds. God, just imagining him fully clothed has me warm, and it's leading me back to those fantasies about meeting him and having a one-night stand.
Actually … that's perfect. I haven't had any of those one-nighters that I would want to write about. They're usually awkward and less fun than you imagine when you're at the height of your tipsiness. But imagining what a night with Chance would be like? That would be fun, and I'd be able to write about it perfectly.
Despite my nerves and my continued disbelief that this is actually happening, I fall into my normal writing rhythm, and write my way through this fictional one-night stand as if it's going to go perfectly. The fictional version of me is the awesome, badass, confident woman that I sometimes wake up feeling like. It's the me I want to be. Hopefully it's the me a lot of women will want to be. Chance is right, this is an article that will hit home. I would love to take home a man with confidence and know that it will be hot, fun, and perfect. It rarely ends up that way though, so anything I can do to help the ladies of the world I'll consider a victory.
It's a combination how-to and story about a fictional couple. The blend between the two is really working. I layer in maybe a little too much detail about the sex between this Chance and this Caroline because once I start thinking about it, I just cannot. Stop. Thinking. About. It.
I imagine the way his fingers would brush across my skin as he pushes the shirt off of my shoulders. His hands on my waist as he pulls my body against his so I can feel every hard inch of him, and the way he'd kiss me. Softly, and then deeper, pulling me in with that unbelievable gravity that he has.
The way he'd lay me out on the bed, teasing me with his mouth from my collarbone to my breasts and lower, tasting me with the same thoroughness that I imagine he uses in everything that he does. And the actual sex. My God, I can just see it, and I realize that I've been staring into space in this gorgeous office and now I'm wet thinking about the man who hired me.
There's not much more to write. I read through it, blushing a little at how graphic the content is, but I think it fits with the tone of the article. Women shouldn't have to shy away from talking about sex like we don't like it and want it just as much as men do. I make some minor changes, edit a little until I'm completely happy with it. I'm nervous about sending it to Chance. I'm a blog writer, so I don't spend a lot of time editing. What if it's not good enough simply because I didn't spend enough time on it?
I mean, it's later in the day than I thought, going on four o'clock, but still … what if I went through all of this and he doesn't like it after all? What if he realizes that I was using him as my inspiration? But I don't exactly have a choice. He wants to see it, and I don't think there's anything else I can do to the article without a second opinion. Before I second-guess myself more, I open the email program and send it.