Chapter 4 – Jordan
While the lodge’s bar is as colorful and seductive as it was the last time I was here — even more so with the neon hearts and cupids hanging here and there — it’s doing nothing for me. Even with my go-to rum and Coke in hand and the added company of Mariah and Jane, nothing is exciting or new.
Mariah and Jane are cuddled up with Paul and Alex, and, although they’re not trying to make me feel like the third wheel, I’m even more of a third wheel now than I was before they each got girlfriends. And, no matter how much Mariah or Jane try to send me sweet, encouraging smiles, I’m the odd man out.
Literally. Not just figuratively.
I take my mind off the cuddling couples next to me and settle for scanning the bar. But there are couples here, there, and everywhere. Nobody looks all that single. Particularly not the girls. They all seem paired with somebody.
I sigh, spotting what looks like a couple of single girls to one end of the bar. They’re all platinum blondes with too-red lips and perfect bodies. Shallow.
Resigned to spending the rest of the weekend alone, my eyes mindlessly skim another part of the bar. I spot a few more women by themselves. They don’t look as “Hollywood porn star” as the other girls here, but they still have that vibe to them. Silly. Unaware. More interested in what I can offer them over the next hour not anything meaningful.
I can tell by the way they laugh. It’s fleeting. Hollow.
I turn away from them, taking a large sip of my drink. It’s big enough to make the ice rattle and catch Alex’s and Paul’s attention.
“You’re not making any moves, Jordan,” Alex says, as if he can’t remember what it’s like to be single. To see women everywhere, but none that catch your fancy. “Go find someone to strike up a small conversation with.” He scans the moving bodies in and around the bar. Like me, he’s not seeing many singles, but he won’t admit it. “There’s gotta be somebody you’re interested in.”
I take another big drink, looking halfheartedly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see an older-looking woman. I can’t see much detail in the neon and shadow, but she looks mature. More mature than most of the other women drinking and flirting. She’s doing the same thing I am — watching and waiting, and for a moment, I’m interested in possibly going over and striking up a conversation.
Until I see her eating a snack-sized pickle while looking in my direction. She sucks on it seductively before biting a piece off. She winks at me. A cougar if I ever saw one. And while I’m not necessarily turned off by the idea that she would want to eat me alive, she doesn’t have the depth I’m looking for. Her eyes, while striking, are muddy. Glazed over, and I’ve seen a lot of eyes look at me in that way. They usually belong to women who enjoy being drugged up while getting fucked. Expecting everything to be done to please them, not available for their man.
I turn my eyes away, drowning our connection in another draw on my drink.
“Not worth it,” I mumble, feeling the rum rush to my head. Probably shouldn’t have asked for a double shot because the liquor buzz is already warming my bloodstream. And not necessarily the good kind. Like I might yak or pass out. “There’s nobody worth talking to. Not out of the women who look available, anyway. Shallow.” I down the rest of my drink, knowing I’ll probably regret it later. “I want depth.”
Jane and Mariah nod empathetically. Knowingly.
Paul licks the rim of his salted shot glass. “Not ready to settle down, huh?” He knocks back his tequila. Through a grimace, he adds, “Too busy building your Empire, eh?”
“I’m tired of being bored and used,” I snap, wondering why I bothered to meet them here in the first place. My eyes dart to the women filling the bar. “None of these women are for me. I can tell. They have nothing I want and nothing I need.” I shove my empty glass away, refusing a second round.
Mariah catches me up in her gentle eyes. “What would it take for you not to be bored, Jordan?”
Jane nods, seeming genuinely interested in my answer.
I shrug, acting aloof. Macho.
But even as I do this, I’ve got a fantasy already playing in my head. Of being put under the control of an older, wiser woman. Of her dominating every last inch of me. Binding me. Directing what I can and can't do. Pushing me to my limits. Pushing me past them, but with love and awareness.
But more than that, as well as her commanding my body, I fantasize about her commanding my heart and mind. All of my attention, so I worship none but her.
That’s what it would take for me not to be bored, I think, imagining my goddess and queen. For a woman to ensnare me. Hold me captive until I see nothing outside of her.
But I don’t think a woman like that exists. I glance again at the female bodies flowing around me. None of these, anyway. They’re too tender — too immature — for such a responsibility. Loneliness wells up inside me.
Alex claps my shoulder, ripping me from my thoughts.“Don’t worry, man,” he says, giving me a reassuring smile. “We’ll help you find the girl of your dreams.” He sits a little straighter, looking proud. Confident. “We’re excellent wingmen, Jordan. We’ve got your back.”
“Great,” I say, but I’m not so sure it is.