As luck would have it I didn’t need to buy a new dress.

I found the perfect one in the back of my closet still with the tags on.

Recalled buying it months ago from a little boutique in the village I’d never had a place to wear it. Too fancy, too dressy, too all around sexy for me it was an impulse buy I’d regretted and placed it in the back for the right occasion.

Getting laid after months’ worth of drought seemed the perfect time to display that beautiful baby, I thought. Two thin straps held it up over my bare boobs, the blend of whites and reds merged together into the waterfall silk material that was higher in the front than it was in the back, landing somewhere mid-thigh, I was lucky enough that when I didn’t wear a bra my bust didn’t drag on the floor.

My momma told me early on to take care of my boobs, she always gave great advice.

Boobs and homemade jams.

Now if I were the cooking type I would rock the frick out of preserves. As it was I preferred peanut butter and that came from a store as God intended all food stuff. I mean, I can cook, it’s just not up there with my all-time favorite things to do.

“Not bad, Sena. I’d sleep with me.” I told my reflection, turning to the left then the right to get a better look at my bottom.

I’d liberally coated on fake tan two nights ago so now I had the perfect optimum glow all over, the back of my legs looked like I’d been sunning on a beach in Saint-Tropez for a month.

While I busied myself primping and fluffing, I thought back to the last hook-up I had months ago, and I should have known meeting a guy at the market would turn out disastrous, he didn’t have one vegetable in his basket; it was all beer and beef jerky, absolutely no substance to the man.

No good comes from Wholefoods hook-ups.

But he was cute with stubble and a chin dimple and it had been a long bout between kissing anyone and I’d thought what the hell when he’d asked for my number. At the time, I didn’t know it was just a booty call situation, I thought maybe a few dates, see how things went. I really am a relationship kind of a girl, if given the choice between airing out my glands with some fast sex and a year-long relationship with an okay-man I’d go with the relationship.

There’s something about being part of a pair that I just like. Booty-call Ben, as we now call him, was nothing to write home about (can you imagine that letter to my dad) he invited me over to his place to watch the game and to have pizza.

My second glaring clue.

The sex wasn’t even all that good, if I gotta direct you like traffic to find one little clitoris then it’s just not worth my time. I want out of my brain sex, the kind that buckled my knees and turned me catatonic for a minute or two, not the kind where I’m looking up at your popcorn ceiling wondering when the last time it was painted.

Booty-call Ben was a disappointment and even though he’d tried to hook up again, thanks, but nah, bro, I’d temporary given up on finding someone special.

Because I have that, dammit.

Noah was all the qualities I wanted. We had fun, we laughed and argued and if we went to the grocery store together he let me eat all the samples, we didn’t always like the same movies, but he’d endure mine if I reciprocated and then he was that rare quality where I could be silent with him, sitting for hours not saying a word and it was comfortable. So, forgive me if I was enjoying my non-boyfriend for a while without putting myself out there.

Well, no more.

Fake gay boyfriends were so 2014. I needed me a man and it was happening tonight. India could pick out a true single guy from across the room just by checking out the kind of shirt he wore. It was a gift and I was about to capitalize on it.

I was maybe forty-six percent certain tonight would go as I wanted it to, but years of crappy dating experiences and not one glimmer of commitment have left me feeling defective and jaded towards the opposite sex who took lying to a whole new level. Seriously, like they think women can’t google the shit they spout out of lying lips and call them out on it.

Please, we’re basically the FBI in Victoria’s Secret undies.

On the bright side, I was hopeful to be doing the walk of shame home later orgasmed out.

Collecting everything I’d need to take with me, including wallet, keys and my purse, I met my Uber outside.

India was waiting at the front of the queue outside Frost when I arrived. “Damn, now that’s what I’m talking about, Sena.” She wolf-whistled far too loudly attracting the attention of the waiting line as I made my way over to her. “If I were into tits I’d be all over you. Oh, wait. I am.” She laughed winking, threading her arm through mine.

“Come on, before your bisexual eyes flirts with my boobs. Hey, Miles.” I greeted the bouncer with a grin. Miles was a tall man, pushing seven feet, and wide as a brick shit house with a trimmed beard. He was head of the security team for all the Noah’s clubs. Sporting a mean face, probably why he never had any trouble from the public, who in their right mind would take on a giant? This wasn’t Game of Thrones. “There’s my sugar.” I found myself wrapped in two steel boulder arms, barely able to breathe he set me free and patted the top of my head. I was a chihuahua. “How’s your gorgeous wife, any sign yet?”

His frown became deep-set on his forehead and he blew a gusty sigh. He might look mean, but he was marshmallow for his wife. “Four days overdue. I’m just waiting for the call now. Mel is ready to kill me.” I laughed. His poor wife giving birth to a colossal baby.

“Let me know so I can buy baby-Holt a stack of gifts.”

“Will do, sugar.” He winked and pulled open the rope leading inside. “Boss-man is inside if you’re looking for him.”

The perks of knowing said boss-man I was allowed into any of his clubs free of charge. I smiled but didn’t tell Miles I wasn’t here for Noah tonight, if luck was on my side I’d be sucking the face off a New York Instagram famous male model within the hour.

Guilt and horniness plagued me.

I shouldn’t want that face to look exactly like Noah Fierro… should I?

Shut up, Sena.

I liked Frost better than the other clubs because of the music it played, it was everything I loved. It might have been my tiny hometown with barely three thousand residents and only one cinema being an influence. No nightclub, my entire music history relied on the radio for most of my childhood and Beaufort FM would have burned down to the ground with shock if techno-trans-trap-hip-hop music had been played at all ever. I liked music with lyrics and a beat I could sing along to. No one was doing Zumba to Snoop Dogg.

So, when we made it inside, I heard the first strains of Chandelier and began that little booty-dance we all did as you made way to any dancefloor, the pre-dance. “Drinks!” India shouted over the noise, but I shook my head. I wanted to relax first, and dancing would loosen me up.

Nothing prepared me for the swarm of three men that came at me from all corners boxing me in as I danced. I chuckled and moved with each one in turn, carefree and boneless moving with sensual grace as I let the music speak to my bloodstream. I might not enjoy being the center of attention, but I knew flirting was an artform. A lip pout to one. An eyelash bat to another. A coquettish giggle. One song turned into two and three. One guy dropped out and slunk off through the crowd, probably to hook up with someone who classed his awkward hip thrust as flirting.

“Let me buy you a drink, babe.” The one at my back yelled. I turned and grinned, rubbing his chest with my gyrating shoulder. He was cute, but I caught no tingle vibes from him. A girl at least wanted her body to heat up like a nuclear reactor. I wanted horniness coming out of my ears if my drought was going to end. “Maybe later.” I called back, leaning into his ear. “I’m here with a friend.”

I was in a veritable testosterone steam bath, convinced one of the guys squashed up against me had been using my thigh to jack off. Ew. Leaving two hound dogs behind me I slipped through the crowd and found India perched at the bar, cocktail in hand, laughing at something the barman was saying.

“I thought you were about to start an orgy. The horny black guy had a hard on in his pants the size of a python. Naughty little boy. Mama approves. Did you get his number?”

“Nah, they didn’t do anything for me.”

“Girl, it’s not about finding a thoroughbred to mate for life, just pick a damn horse and climb on.”

“Where’s my saddle?” I joked as Troy the barman brought over my favorite Red Lolly drink. He said he’d invented it one night. I wasn’t so sure, but it sure tasted sweet and yummy. I grinned my thanks and paid, my eyes strayed towards the back of the club, up on the second level where Noah’s glass office was situated.

There were only two instances he closed the blinds and both involved sex. Even business meetings he kept the blinds open. As I skimmed my gaze my belly sunk. The blinds were down, the light clearly on so he was in there. “Hey, Troy, do you know who is with Noah?”

“Boss-man? Some guy went up an hour ago. Looked like a rep.” He told me serving a woman standing beside me. Since I knew Noah hadn’t dated in months, it was more than likely to be a hook-up, someone he knew, or someone that caught his eye from up on his towering throne and enticed to climbs his stairs.

I sighed and slid around on my stool, more than ever I was ready to meet my own whoever it might be.

Though, unlike the instructions from India, I did have a list of requirements. Cheesy pickup lines were out. I wanted someone genuine who could charm me effortlessly. If he was dressed nice and smelled gorgeous that was a check in the right column. I didn’t care about money, I once dated a starving artist, literally starving, the man weighed less than I did, and when he fit my skinny jeans, well, that was the beginning of the end.

My gaze strayed upstairs again like I was unable to keep my eyes to myself. Self-torture at its best. An ache bloomed in my chest.

Through an avalanche of catch-up chat during the next few hours, India and I made it through too many shots of Jägerbomb before the next guy approached. I sensed him at my shoulder, turning a quick glance, I saw he was gorgeous in a rugged handyman kind of way. “Sorry to interrupt, I wanted to ask if you’d like to dance?” Oh, wow, manners. I mentally checked that off my list. His smile was dazzling. Even white teeth, no caps. Au natural. With thick wave of dark brown hair, shaved around the sides and long on top. “I’m Taron. I saw you and couldn’t stop myself from coming over, hope you don’t mind.”

“Hey, Taron. I’d love to.” I told him. “I’m Sena.” Gorgeous Taron sported two sleeves of tattoos.

Oh, wow. Mama don’t mind if I do. Maybe I was a little on my way to being tipsy as I giggled and slid off the stool too fast swaying a bit I landed into his side, he caught me easily, grinning down at me. “Careful there,” he told me, arm around my waist. And he smelled extremely good.

India was giving me the two thumbs up behind his back.

He danced so close to me during one, two, three songs that I got a nice hot little dry run through our clothes of just what was on Taron’s mind. He was hard as a rock and what I felt didn’t disappoint at all.

“And what does a sweet girl like you do in this big, bad city, Sina?”

“It’s Sena.” Demoted point.

“My bad,” he grinned. And dazzled that point right back, his big, grabby hands holding my waist. I’d always been attracted to a take charge alpha male who knew exactly what he wanted and what he was doing.

“I’m a boring IT consultant.”

“Ah, really?” His tone sounded as bored as I described it. The thing was, while I loved everything tech, I got a real lady-boner to fix computers, I knew it wasn’t everyone’s latte, I could see eyes glaze over the moment I said what my job was, so now I kept it to the bare minimum of letting someone know I had an actual job that paid money, but as for details they didn’t need to have those.

“What about you?” The song changed to something I didn’t like. Using that as an excuse for a break he led me back through the growing crowd, holding my hand and with the other he directed the crowd away. Damn, I liked that. Alphaness. Taron was checking all my boxes so far.

“I’m a fireman, babe.”

I came to a sudden stop, so sudden he and his hard dick rammed me in the back. I swerved around, eyes wide and aroused. “Shut the fudging door, you are not! Really?”

His smile flashed nuclear as if he’d heard the admiration all before. And when he dipped his head hair fell in his eyes making him fucking adorable. He helped me to a seat at the bar. “Afraid so.”

“That’s so…” Hot. Sexy. Fuck me now. “Cool. You’re really brave to do that kind of job.”

“I like to help people.”

Buzzing with adrenaline, looking up into piercing green eyes, I might have found my horse. Now don’t offer him a carrot just yet, Sena.

Small talk was not my forte, I’d admit, it gave me cold clammy hands trying to fill in awkward silences with asinine fillers such as; so, do you have siblings/pets?  But I seemed to be doing fine with Taron, he told me all about his job, asked about mine, and we talked about our favorite places to eat in the city.

I was leaning more towards him being the one I was looking to cleanse my Noah palette.

His fingertips toyed with the ends of my pink hair and I enjoyed the slight brush against my bare neck and being at the center of his attention and I wanted to be touched so badly, sad to say I was willing to accept most anyone who showed an attraction for me. Really touched, a brush of a hand from the barista who handed me my lattes every day just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

I squinted. Was it the strobe lights or was Taron’s face becoming blurry?

“Have to tell you, you’re really fucking beautiful, babe. Those eyes are stunning, and I want to suck on those sexy lips for days.”

“You do?” The blur was smiling I think, at least I think both of them were. I sloppy-grinned and reached out, grabbed his collar and pulled him towards me. “You better start, then hadn’t you?” The alternative was I went home very unlaid and very unsatisfied with every part of tonight.

Taron was hot, and a good conversationalist, but he was winning me over with his charm, and god he smelled good, nothing like — he brought his mouth to mine. I could do this.

I lifted my head ready for the kiss of a lifetime…or at last the night.

If he kissed as good as he danced and flirted I was going home with him and clearing out my sexual cobwebs. Mint breath washed over my face, I crooked my head, ready to yank him down if he took any longer and—

A hand curved around the back of my neck, startling me. “Sena.” Caused every nerve ending to flood with endorphins, it was enough riot to have my system in automatic overload.

I momentarily lost my footing until Noah caught his free arm around my middle. “I need a word.” He told me. His face severe as a brick, not even looking at me, he had eyes on Taron the fireman, but not in a way that made me think he wanted to have a turn with the hot fireman, in fact he wore his don’t fuck with me face. It was intimidating, I’d seen him use it many times, the hot fireman backed up. “Hey, man, I didn’t know she was taken.”

“What? It’s not like that.” I insisted, but it fell between the crowd and the music as Noah took my arm and began leading me away. “Wait right here, hot fireman, I mean, Taron!” I hoped somehow, he’d heard me.

Dammit, Noah. I glared at his blurred image, my head swimming a little. Those Jägerbomb shots had gone directly to my equilibrium. “You realize you just cock-blocked me. Worse, kiss-blocked me!” I hissed accusingly once he’d taken me up the stairs into his office, closing the door behind us. The blinds were open now. I glared at the bastard. “Thank you very much, this couldn’t have waited?”

“You’re falling down drunk and were about to let some guy up under that scrap of a thing you’re wearing, kitten. You’re welcome comes to mind.”

“I didn’t need rescuing. I wanted him under my dress!” It was a watchtower from up this high, I used fingers to move the blinds aside to better look out, searching back across the crowd towards the winding chrome bar where Taron should be waiting patiently like a docile, randy bull and my eyes narrowed to see him lip locked with a redhead.

“For hells sake. Oh, great. Hot fireman is doing a tonsillectomy on some other woman. Thank you very much.” Rounding on Noah, the room spun a little and I made the wise choice to plonk myself down onto the leather sofa until gravity had corrected itself, glaring up at the condescending man who was wearing I told you so all over his face. “Didn’t your booty-call satisfy you enough that you had to ruin mine?”

“My what?” a brow arched, and he stopped mid-way with a bottle of Evian at his mouth.

“The blinds were closed when I got here.” Like that was explanation enough. I added. “It usually means you’re getting a little some-some from a special friend.”

Noah smirked and came to sit beside me. He was effortlessly cool even in dark jeans and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up his gorgeous forearms.

He handed me his water bottle. “Drink. I had a spirit’s rep in here, he suffers with seizures, I didn’t want him flopping all over from the strobe lighting, so I closed the blinds.”

I drank the entire bottle, laying my head back. My phone rang, and I answered it with a surly hello. “Bitch, where did you go, your hottie is making out with a skank called Dottie, I shit you not, she’s from Iowa.” India sounded impatient above the din of background noise, she was yelling to compensate, and she almost burst my eardrum. “I was locking a guy down from the village, a cute thing, he’s an artist, dahrling.”

“I’m right here, babe.” A male voice chimed in and India shushed him. I chuckled laying my swimming head on Noah’s shoulder, he was fiddling with his phone as he always was, but his free hand came up and rubbed the back of my head. I got lost in the sensation that for a minute I didn’t hear a word my friend was saying, something about going back to the village or her place?

“I’m upstairs. Noah ran off my fireman.”

He ‘hmm’ at the side of me.

“Are you sure about going home with Michelangelo? I can send Noah down for you, he’ll get you a cab home.”

“I’m not your fetch dog, kitten.” I waved him off. He’d make sure India was safe despite his protest.

“No, girl, I’m good. I’ll call you tomorrow if I’m not dead.” She added with a tinkling laugh. “Tell that husband of yours woof.” She hung up.

“I didn’t know you had plans for a hook-up tonight.” His hand slid into the back of my hair, scraping and twisting, I could feel his short blunt nails against my scalp and the sensation sent heat to places that had no business being Bunsen burner hot.

Due to the copious amount of alcohol I’d consumed on an empty stomach I was relaxed more than usual so I burrowed into his shoulder, letting my eyes drift shut to better enjoy the fantasy of Noah touching me, leaving out the detail of his raging gayness.

“You didn’t fuck the rep guy?”

He laughed low in his throat. Even his laugh was villainous.

“I don’t fuck everyone that walks through that door, Sena. Give me some credit.” Oh, I knew that more than most, I’d tripped that threshold millions of times and he’d never once closed the blinds for me. Le sigh. And now I was without a hot fireman to do nasty, dirty things to and on top of me.

It was too late to restart the hunt now, all that would be left were the dregs of Manhattan and even with my lack of sexual activity lately against the flow chart of my raging libido I was specific about what I wanted in my bed. And the end of the night men who were basically trolls, were not my idea of a good time.

“You should be more careful, that punk could have been a rapist.” He reprimanded.

I scoffed and nudged his hand for his fingers to keep going in my hair, behind my eyelids my eyes flickered, and I contained the moan of pleasure. “You think everyone is a potential rapist. I have my alarm whistle in my purse.”

“A pretty face doesn’t mean he’s safe.”

“Says the expert with the prettiest face. Are you safe, Noah? You’re the biggest villain of all, how many hearts have you broken?” Hundreds.

Amusement laced his deep voice. Heat continued to swarm through my belly and lower. Oh, sweet tormented heaven this was. “We’re not discussing me, but your lack of judgment.”

“Oh, shut up.” I laughed. “I wanted to get laid hard not marry the guy. And you ruined it, he’s off now boning Dottie from wherever. I bet they get married and have cute fat redheaded babies.”

And then Noah made a noise I’d never heard him make before. It was a cross between a whimper (but manly as fuck) and a growl that vibrated so hard against his chest I felt it ricochet into my own. My eyes pinged open to find his face so close to mine I could see the flecks of green in his piercing eyes. His pupils bled into the blue.

His stare staggered me. I could almost translate a million words those eyes were saying, and breath got locked in my throat and my fingertips turned numb, on any other man I could have sworn it was jealousy I was seeing.

Sweet, heart throbbing, groin pulsing jealousy.

I let that fantasy twist inside my head for a second and a hundred evocative scenarios began to weave their sorcery.

Forest fires had been started with less ignition I was feeling.

“Don’t say that.”

“S-say, what?” My brows lowered. I was more drunk than I thought if I were imagining he was feeling even a slither of jealousy. Idiot Sena. I smiled and let my eyes shut again.

“That you want some fucking random guy to fuck you hard. You’re worth more than that, kitten,” his short, angry bark echoed in my head. See. Just a concerned friend after all. Not a hint of jealousy. I swallowed a sigh.

“Sometimes I need my pipes cleaning, lion. It’s just biology.” I told him chuckling and the same growl-rumble emitted from his lips again. I could hear the aggression in the sound.

I felt my eyelids sag, lulled by a tipsy sleep and the feel of strong fingers massaging my scalp.