She rolled her eyes but smiled at the same time. “What are you getting?”
“Probably the—”
“Don’t you dare order a salad.”
I set the menu down and felt the smile stretch across my face. “I like salads.”
“But that’s all I ever see you eat.”
“Incorrect. I’ve invited you over for dinner—and I didn’t make salad.”
“Okay…that was the one instance,” she said with a laugh. “But anytime we go out to lunch, that’s what you order. How can a man your size stay so muscular if you don’t eat enough?”
“I eat enough. I have a big breakfast every morning, a protein shake, and I have a good dinner.”
“You just said you were going to get a salad.”
“It’s different at a restaurant.” I grabbed my wine and took a drink. “They use so much oil and god knows what else.”
She eyed my glass. “But you do drink like a real man, so I’ll give you that.”
“It’s my one weakness. I don’t have sweets—that’s the trade-off.”
“God, I could never give up sweets. You know those little Milano cookies?” She squeezed her fingers together, like she was gripping an imaginary cookie. “With the dark chocolate in between two pieces of shortbread? Oh my god…so good.” Her eyes moved to the back of her head like she was having an orgasm.
I pictured that look on her face as I was deep inside her, my cock hitting her in the perfect spot to make her writhe in pleasure. The last thing she would think about were those chocolate cookies she just described.
She grabbed her glass and took another drink, like her little performance hadn’t just made me think about fucking her. Whenever she took a bigger drink than she could handle, she always swiped her tongue across her bottom lip to catch the drops. She did the same thing when she finished swallowing my come.
Like always, she filled my dirty mind with dreams of sex.
The waitress came over and chased away my fantasies by asking for our orders.
We made our selections then passed the menus back. Now we were alone together, somewhat close to the other couples having dinner together after a long day at work. I stared at the woman across from me, the first lady I’d spent more than a night with since Simone. Being around her made me wonder what I saw in Simone in the first place. Simone was a beautiful blonde, but that was her only positive attribute. Monroe wasn’t just beautiful, but smart, real, funny…and not obsessed with money. All she wanted was to be able to afford to live.
“What?” She drank her wine again, watching me stare at her.
I didn’t realize how long it’d been since I last blinked. “Just thinking about work.”
“Why did you have such a shitty day?” She propped her chin on her palm and looked at me. “Don’t forget, we’re friends. Friends tell each other these things.”
“I don’t know if I see you as a friend.”
She pouted her lips. “That’s a mean thing to say.”
“You aren’t supposed to want to fuck your friends.”
“Who says so?” she countered. “Aren’t people friends with benefits all the time?”
“But that’s not what we are. I paid you for a service.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. When I first met you, I could barely tolerate you. But now, I actually like you…”
“But not enough to sleep with me.”
“Yet…” She poured more wine into her glass before she took a drink. “But you’re getting close.”
“I am?” I leaned forward, enticed by this conversation. “How close?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just close.”
We’d been doing this for several weeks now. I saw her often, taking her to lunch and dinner, spending time with her while being a gentleman. Even when I picked up women at bars and the gym, I never put in this amount of effort. Maybe one dinner at the most. Then she was on her back and taking my dick. I’d only take out a woman twice if I were trying to fuck her in the ass. “So, you think I’m sexy. You like me. And you think I’m kinda sweet. What more do you want?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I am running out of reasons.”
“I agree.” It’d been weeks since I last slept with someone. I was being satisfied in the meantime with good blow jobs, but that was nothing compared to pussy, especially virgin pussy. The one thing that really rocked me was popping a cherry. That was my biggest fetish, my biggest turn-on. And that was what I wanted to do with the woman across from me.
“Maybe I just like spending time with you…”
“Our time would be better spent if we were both naked.”
“But once I sleep with you…will that be the end?” She held on to the stem of her glass and waited for me to answer, the hesitation on her face. Now she wasn’t as playful as she’d been before. Now she was nervous, afraid of my answer.