In the survey of life, I’d fall somewhere between ‘average’ and ‘she’s part of the background’ now that’s not putting myself down. I like the background just fine. It lets me see the whole picture. People watching is kinda my thing. And I hate being center stage. Cringe. The thought of it is enough to bring me out in hives.

I’ve lived 25 ¾ years in the background sipping on my lemonade letting everyone else take center stage and that’s where I’m happiest. I’m not a spotlight kinda girl, not even when I’m doing a killer rendition of Dolly Parton at karaoke.

But I was going to stand out tonight, I was determined more than ever.

Get out of my way, Divas, Sena Janelle Black was coming through and I wanted that spotlight to get me a piece of the action.  

My mind was on what little thing I’d wear while I worked on breaking through the trojan virus on a Dell bios ... hmm ... something that came off easy, so no jumpsuit. I wanted easy access, not something that would take a man a week to peel off me, hopping on one leg while a man got one side down was not sexy, trust, I knew this as fact.

“How’s it going?” The client hovered for more than an hour while I moved from system to system in the office block, what did he think I was going to do, install more porn on his computers? As it stood I didn’t think there was any more porn left in the world, they were all sitting on his row of computers.

I was an IT specialist with a computer science degree to my name, or as I liked to call myself; Tech doc. I worked mostly freelance, moving from one job to the next, and I loved it, it paid well, and I was never bored but what I hated more than bad vending machine coffee was being micromanaged. Just leave me to do my crap, I knew what I was doing.

Pasting on a smile I looked over my shoulder at the tall, thick-set man who managed the call center for gods knows what, I didn’t take any notice, maybe it was a utility company, maybe he was selling black market puppies, the details of the company name was never important.

I’d been in big, and I’d been in small, it was all down to what they needed from me. Sometimes it was new software installing, that was easy, other times it was to fix internal problems, like today, his entire system had gone down rendering his work force dumb as a rock, they were all currently in their break room waiting on me to wave my magic nerd wand.

“Nearly there. But you might want to put ad-blocks on certain sites, or you’ll keep getting viruses no matter what kind of security you have installed.”

His security was crap, a six-year-old genius could easily hack through it.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. You can do that today?”

Sure, I could. I was Tech doc! I needed a van with that sprayed on the side. Who you gonna call…. Tech doc! I could see the commercials now.

What Jeremy Steinburgh didn’t know was how much his staff were fucking around on company time and money, the number of apps I uninstalled on each computer was stupidly large, he was basically paying them to watch live porn streams and post on social media. They’d be embarrassed if they knew I’d been in all their accounts. Cybersex is alive and well, I can report.

“I’ll be another hour or so.” I told him hoping he’d slip back off to his office.

Only five computers from a sea of IT equipment were spared a virus, unbelievable. A company this size really shouldn’t be cutting corners on security. When I’d done what I could for the systems I made my way along to the mainframe office and rebooted from there, putting the malware and firewalls in place.

An hour after that, with a hefty payment paid directly into my bank account plus an on-call fee for any future needs, I left the sixteenth-floor building to grab a coffee on the corner while I planned my getting laid outfit.

Was I really planning a one-night stand that could potentially turn into the love of my life? Sure. While I didn’t hold out hope for the latter, I was a realist, after all, I had cobwebs to clear and an uncomfortable borderline agony crush to clean from my organs once and for all, because if I didn’t I feared my only other option was leaving Noah for good.

Or joining a nunnery.

And I had too many lace panties to give them up for God.

Leaving Noah? My blood ran cold. He was my best ... everything.

No, the only choice was to realize my crush was just that, and as soon as I had a taste of what I was missing it would fizzle out and leave behind just the love I had for a bestie and partner in crime.

Over coffee I made a note on my iPhone diary.

Get laid. Get very, very laid.

And I knew just who to call to help me.

My friend India was a self-confessed slut. She loved sex often and a lot and even though she was between long term boyfriends she was full of sex stories. She reminded me of a younger version of Sam from sex and the city. Indie had her life together, she was a gorgeous career bitch I was a little envious of. She’d grown up in the city, not like me, from a town that was no bigger than a postage stamp where everyone knew everything about everyone, it had been stifling living in Beaufort, South Carolina, so at the earliest possible moment I’d gotten myself onto a bus and then a plane, with my hard-earned savings, which was not a lot and headed for New York, never realizing I’d love it and be there four years later with no plans to ever leave. It was true what they said; once a New Yorker always a New Yorker.

Up against India I was a fish out of southern water and often I rejected her offers to fix me up on blind dates. I know a guy perfect for you, he has the biggest dick/a brand new Lamborghini/a stock portfolio to rival a Kennedy. She’d tell me every other Sunday when we met for a catch up over croissants and a coffee. I’d snort and tell her no way, he could be a serial killer, when in truth my rejection was about Noah.

If the man wasn’t Noah, then I wasn’t interested. Sad, sad, sad.

I was literally putting all my eggs in a gay basket and driving it down a one-way gay street blindfolded.

Sure, I’d had boyfriends and lovers since moving to Manhattan, I was not that proverbial nun I was threatening myself to become, but they’d been fleeting relationships, something to pass the time and almost from the get-go I knew they were going nowhere. I’d wanted more, and even if the men offered me more, showing signs of a real relationship with meeting parents and talking kids it was me who broke it off, because they weren’t who I wanted.

Enough. I couldn’t think like that any longer.

“Ind. You busy tonight?” I asked when my call connected. She worked in advertising and was constantly attached to her phone and social media accounts.

“Hey, my southern sunshine. When am I ever not busy? Do we have plans to get white girl wasted? It’s been four days, I’m ready for a fresh hangover.”

“I want to go out,” I paused. “To meet someone.”

And three… two…. “What? Am I hearing right?” She chuckled excitedly. I smiled taking a sip of coffee. I deserved her gloating, she’d been telling me for months I needed nothing more than a night of hot sex. (she’d said a good hard fuck) “My shy, little wallflower wants to get a doggy-style slam? I’m in, girl. Where shall we meet, at one of your hubby’s clubs?”

My belly lurched. She always called Noah my hubby, little did India realize how much it thrilled and gutted me.  

“Yeah, how about Frost at 10pm?”

“Hell yes. My girl’s drought is ending, hallelujah praise the condom makers! Wear something subtly revealing and suggestive that show off your tits. Wait, I’ll email you pictures, don’t even think of wearing a cardigan you, southern bitch. I will burn it off you in a sacrifice to the gods of wine and impurity. You want to be someone’s reason to masturbate tonight, not have them wonder what church you’re collecting for.”

I breathed a laugh, she knew me well. All my defense walls usually locked into place if I were uncomfortable.

“I will be the biggest hoe there, next to you that is.”

We talked for another twenty minutes before she had to go initiate a conference call with Japan. With a promise, I would leave my underwear right there in the drawer tonight.

No panties and I was going to get laid with someone I hoped resembled Chris Hemsworth only his hammer would be bigger, much bigger.

Oh, crap.

I could do this.

 

~*~*~

 

 

On the way home, I messaged Noah. Call it my addiction, I was hooked and needed my little fixes even when I knew it was bad for me. Luckily, he was home, no point eating alone, right?

 

SouthernBelle: Pancakes? My treat.

 

It was a legitimate food group no matter the time of day.

 

KingOfManhattan: Give me thirty minutes to shower.

 

Exactly thirty-three minutes later I paced inside his penthouse waiting for his highness to be ready. We were only going to grab a pancake, he didn’t have to dress fancy.

“Hurry up, Noah. I’m ravenous.”

No reply.

I pushed open the bathroom door and was hit in the face by masculine scented steam. Whatever shower gel Noah used it smelled like sex and more sex.

I inhaled hard. “Hurry up, pretty boy! I'm starving here.”

A grunt. “Go away, Sena.” Another grunt from the stall with its five waterfall showerheads.

I wrapped knuckles on the door. “Pancakes wait for no metrosexual diva grooming himself.” Wait ... a thought occurred to me, making my belly all slick and warm. I cursed the frosted glass of the shower walls that I could only see the skin outline of him, his back to me, head bent and ... shit.

“Are you wanking?” My voice squeaked.

He was. He was. Oh, god, he was.

“Yes. Fuck. Quit talking British, Sena.” He issued on a rumble and then gritted out. “Go away for a minute.”

I swear the devil placed his sinning hand to the base of my back and pushed making my feet move deeper into the room. I swear it was him and not my own doing. “Do you need a hand?”

Oh, Balls.

What did I just say?

Silence. Like the kind of silence, you get in awkward situations when you accidentally tell your new boyfriend's mom she should be proud her son is a good lover.

Yeah, that really happened to me. So, I know my awkward situations.

Silence.

Silence.

What on earth had I said that for?

Of course, a gay man wanted me to help him jack off.

Epic eye roll.

And then I heard that sexy grunt again with the claws of sound that reached into my belly and stroked me until I was in danger of joining him in moaning.

I made my escape like my ass was on fire.

And I kept going.

Forget pancakes for dinner, I was going to go away and bury myself in shame.

I was in the lobby a few minutes later waiting for a cab when my cell phone chimed. Shit.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Oh, me? I'm here, where are you?”

“Upstairs in my apartment wondering where the fuck you've gone to since you were in such a big rush for your carbs.”

When he joined me, there was no mention of what I’d walked in on. My cheeks were rosy the entire meal. And my hormones barked like a dog. He cupped the back of my head at one point. My insides exploded with feelings. It was a simple gentle, intimate gesture.

One I was reading too much into. 

It was so unfair how I wanted him, and he preferred his right hand.