Crinkling her cute nose, she swirls her spoon in her tea staring into it, like it’s going to give her the answer to my question.
“Well…” I press a little further.
“I’m not sure. Only been dating a few weeks and he wants it to be more than what it is. And you know me, I don’t do more.” Her tone suggests she’s not so sure if she wants what she refers to as ‘more’ or not. Normally I’d say no. But normally her boy-toys typically stick around a week or two, tops. Bob, on the other hand, is closing in on a month. Which tells me she’s not bored yet.
“Are you telling me a man can stand you for a month and wants to have more than hot kinky sex with you?” I giggle at my sarcasm and Roni looks up from her tea, glaring at me, and throws half-eaten biscotti at my head. I duck to the side and it flies past me, hitting the wall and ending up on the floor.
“Fuck you.”
Well, alrighty then. I love you too.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like him, Miss Sassy Britches. Give him a date or two and then see if he can still stand you, your ugly clothes and vibrant, loving, personality.” Apparently, I’m dripping with sarcasm today. Must be this weird morning I’ve had thus far. I fell out of dandayamana-janushirasana pose today, which I’ve not done in two years. Something is off with me and I don’t know what.
“Oh, fuck you, Lex. We are so busy with Keagan Cosmetics and Creams, and I have no desire to ever marry, have children or even a dog for that matter. I’m twenty eight, I like sex, beer, cars, and if I had a penis, I’d probably be happier than bleeding every month.”
No, she wouldn’t. Being a woman is awesome. Why would she ever want to trade that is beyond me.
“Calm down, I love you; I’m just saying Bob might be the right guy. He’s busy too, he’s older, sexy, doesn’t have kids or a dog. He obviously likes sex as much as you do and he just wants a little more, maybe to go to dinners with. I don’t see the auto mechanic asking you to doll yourself up or be something you’re not. Take it for what it is and give him what he wants, or let him go. I don’t understand why it’s imperative for me to date and find someone. All the while, my best friend just wants a damn booty call. Wake up and smell the roses, Roni, what’s good for the goose had better be good for the gander. So, if your butt wants me to date, you will have to put in the effort and do just the same. Got me?” Woo-hoo, I’m a roll today!
Nodding as if she agrees, I get up and sit my mug in the sink. Now it’s time to get dolled up to go out with Corey.
Chapter Five
Agreeing to meet Corey in Lords at Buckeye’s Tavern for lunch and a drink at one. I’m running on time and just pulling up when I see Corey standing outside the taverns metal front door. He’s wearing a light blue polo shirt that highlights his blonde hair and piercing blue eyes perfectly. The rest of his large muscular body is clad in khaki pants and brown loafers. He’s very handsome.
Sliding out of the Jag, my heels nosily ‘click, click, click’ on the blacktop on my way to greet him by the door. Corey turns his head my direction as I’m about half way to him. As soon as he realizes it’s me, his eyes widen and his juicy man lips pull into a dazzling toothy smile. Causing my heart to skip a beat and I lose my breath. Wow, he’s as gorgeous as I remember. The hungry monster between my legs agrees with that observation as well. Not sure if this is a good or a bad sign. Maybe I should have listened to my mom and worn something less tight or revealing. I’d hate for a wet stain to magically appear at the bottom of my dress. That would be unbelievably embarrassing to the hundredth degree.
Today, just before I drove here, I stopped and visited my beautiful mom at her shop. As soon as I set foot in the door, it clanked annoyingly, alerting her that she had a customer. Once she saw it was me, she swooped in for a hug. My mom gives the best hugs on this planet. I know a lot of kids might say that, but in this case, it’s true.
My mom, Faith, is the warmest, kindest woman. She’s five foot six, tiny framed in all ways and has the longest most luxurious black hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever beheld. At fifty-one, she looks thirty-eight and all the men in town lust after her, but she refuses to date. Must be another trait I have picked up, alongside my looks and other things. However, on the rare occasion she seeks a companion, Herald, the handsome UPS driver, takes her out, among other more adult things, I assume.
“You be careful with men you barely know.” My mom forwardly expressed today.
“I will it’s not a date, date, we’re just friends.” I lied, sort of. I know because of my past and the demons that lurk in my closet, she worries constantly about me. So part of the reason I’ve put off dating is for her benefit as much as it is mine. After she finished expressing twenty more reasons I have to be careful, I left and now, here I am.