Chapter Four…
More was exactly what I got until I had to go back to work on Tuesday morning. A bit sad for the weekend to be over, but I had some incredible and shocking memories that kept invading my mind daily as I moved through the week without hearing from Mason. I couldn’t really complain, I hadn’t contacted him either, and he was probably busy with work. I had certainly experienced enough pleasure to last me for… at least a few weeks. He never left me unsatisfied, just the opposite, sex had never been so good.
From our initial meet up Friday night, we were never apart and never left the comfort of my apartment, partially due to the fact that the commander didn’t have any other clothing with him. Of course, he could’ve gone home and returned with some, but we didn’t seem to need the outside world. I cooked semi-gourmet meals for us, a passion that I had developed over the years thanks to pinned recipes on social media. My pancakes, he said, were his favorite meal that I cooked for him. I had a feeling that his love of my pancakes had absolutely nothing to do with the actual hot cakes I flipped onto his plate and a lot more about what followed them on my kitchen island.
The morning after our first night of wild sex, he couldn’t stop saying, “wow!” I smiled, recalling how he appreciated my spicy taste in coffee, pancakes, and then my tiny nest of downstairs curls that matched perfectly with the pink hair on my head.
“How did I miss your pink soul patch last night?” His eyes were glancing down.
“It was mostly dark in my room and when it wasn’t, you performed your magic while I was bent over the bench in my foyer. And by the way, wrong lips to be called a soul patch…” I tapped my index finger under my bottom lip. “…Those are under the bottom lip on a face. This…” I move my finger down to point and swirl around the subject being discussed, or debated. “…Is above my lips… my lusty nest.”
“Then I declare it a sexy as fuck love patch.”
I had to disagree, it had nothing to do with love and he was not allowed to name my intimate curls—I had to be able to put my foot down somewhere. “It’s a lusty patch.”
“I think I may have seen one in another shade—bright purple, I believe—on the Tattle Tales or Eye Spied gossip sites, and they labeled it as a porn star patch.”
“Did you just cite a gossip rag?” I believe my words were dancing through the air, excited that another individual actually quoted the gospel truth celebrity news.
“They set the trends! It’s best to be on top of them. Don’t laugh!” I didn’t think that I had, but if I did it was due to pure giddiness. “You know, you should know in your industry, especially, that gossip magazines dictate business; dos and don’ts.”
In that moment, I had thoughts of true love for Mason. Finally, someone who spoke my language! “I couldn’t agree more,” I practically squealed.
“Well then, let’s eat this amazingly delicious smelling breakfast and then I will be taking a more indepth look at your stunning lusty porn nest.” That was exactly what he did once he pushed his finished breakfast to the side and lifted me up onto my kitchen island minus my sheer panties that were tossed to the floor.
Maybe that wasn’t the kind of memory I should’ve been thinking about while I was working in my salon. But it was hard not to think about it while I was sitting in one of my stylist’s chairs having the pink hair on my head touched up—knowing I would have to match my tiny carpet before long. That I did in the privacy of my apartment and thoughts of him helping me sparked my libido and had me wondering if I should call him.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to make the move as he called and asked me to meet him at Cafélicious for lunch at the end of the work week. Agreeing, I found Mason in a similar position as the night we met, sitting with his back to me as I approached him. Only that time, he was not staring off in the direction of the visible kitchen, but instead looking at a tablet on the table and he appeared to be having somewhat of a heated conversation with someone on his phone. He was speaking about chemistry, variations of formulas, and test studies. He almost sounded like a scientist… like my father.
Looking up at me once I was in his line of vision, he put his phone down and blew my mind with his words. “We weren’t supposed to sleep together.”
Not sure where our conversation was headed as I took a seat across from him, forgetting all about the kiss I had planned to deliver to him as I walked over. “Well, there wasn’t much sleeping involved.” I smirked at him, batting my natural looking faux eyelashes—I hated to be bothered with mascara.
“It blows things out of the water… the data is all off. What was I thinking?” I wasn’t completely sure if he was talking to me or still wrapped up in his phone conversation.
“Data?” I questioned, looking at a man that seemed so different.
Who the hell was this nerdy man sitting across from me, plugging info into his tablet, not really even bothering to look at me? He should’ve been commenting on my white dress with cutout triangles on the sides of my waist… asking me if I was wearing any panties. Threatening to punish me for taunting him once I told him that I wasn’t wearing any, of course, because they would ruin the lines of the dress. Where did the hot, dominant man that fucked me with such spicy commands go? I was right about him looking like a sweet boy next door—that was how he was acting at that moment—but I knew the man hidden behind closed doors. The man that spanked me and controlled every sexual move between us all weekend long precisely with meaning and conviction.
“Yes, we skipped all of the normal dating steps; getting to know each other, going on a few dates, then the sex.” He was ticking things off on his fingers.
“You shouldn’t have been such a naughty talker. You shouldn’t have been such a good kisser. You worked your way straight into my panties… or straight up my dress.”
“That didn’t show in our compatibility. I’m going to have to start over.” What?!
“Another date that ends with no sex?”
“Another test subject and follow the steps to true compatibility, not just sex.”
“Test Subject? Is that what I was to you? I think I am offended. Had I known, I could’ve decided up front whether you needed to get the fuck out of my bed or not.”
“Shit! Okay, that came out all wrong.” He was rubbing his brow.
“Uh… yeah. You have made me sound like a lab rat.”
“I own the dating service, To Blind Date, and I thought I’d try it out for my own personal feedback… you happened to be my top match. And if I had told you, my data wouldn’t have worked either way. It would’ve been even worse…” Worse?! That word never described anything I experienced with him. “…Total honesty wasn’t an option.”
I sat looking at him with my arms folded across my chest waiting for him to finish his babbling. Then after watching him take a few deep breaths, he launched into the truth about his communications business as a whole. He explained that he had been truthful about communications being his profession to begin with—yet, lacking a full title. Dating, I guess is a form of communicating… so he hadn’t completely lied or portrayed himself wrongly. He had just left out the minor and major details about his division of a big corporation.
“Fine, you want to move on, but let me in on your business. I’ll forgive you and I might even let you be my fuck buddy. Put my salon on your site. Free advertising for me and I will offer discounts to get your blind date clients shaped up before their dates.”
“It’s not always about looks.”
“Yeah, it pretty much is,” I said firmly, knowing that we were no longer in the bedroom or in a sexual scene, and on equal footing. Then I confessed. “If you hadn’t passed my test, I would’ve stood you up.”
“What?!” He looked confused.
“I picked this café because I know the girls that work here… my shop is a few doors down. They texted me Laced with Spice once they saw you—that was code for he’s hot!” He confessed, so what the hell, I did too.
“That too blows my data.” He looked more than confused, bordering on angry, then a sad look came over his face, and I decided to lighten the mood. Or at least that was my plan.
“How about we stop talking about this dating site of yours and I blow you one last time. And by the way, your cock is beautiful—I’m a bit of a connoisseur—and I wouldn’t mind a dick pic from you.” I laughed.
I should’ve felt unwanted, possibly used, but for some reason, I was none of those things. In the past, I would’ve shouted, called names, and most likely stormed out of the café. I couldn’t believe that I was actually making dick pic jokes and laughing.
Then he shattered my whole spicy scenario when he informed me that he had lined up a couple dates with the other four women on his list the following week. He planned to take one on a harbor cruise and the other one to play miniature golf—touristy and boring to me—did people still play that putt the tiny dimpled ball into the mouth of a clown game?
Whatever, my heart sunk a bit knowing that they were going to be enjoying his company even if he was sticking to his no sex plan. That also left me off to the side as the friend… and business associate since he agreed to my request. Not really what I had imagined hearing from him when he asked me to meet him for lunch. At least I knew that when we were to meet up again, there would be absolutely no expectations. I would also be making it clear that I didn’t wish to hear about his date results.
Though we had been nothing more than a weekend fling, the reality of it was that I wasn’t ready for it to be over like he was—I would’ve gladly continued on. I would’ve been thrilled to work together while enjoying a friendship that included some sexual benefits. However, he was serious about doing investigative research for his TBD site and maybe even looking for the right one as it wasn’t me. The la la just wasn’t there for him, but I had to say it sure felt like it was—just goes to show you, assuming makes an ass out of me and you. I laughed to myself. Nothing else to do, I would look forward to finding a different avenue to venture down the next time I decided to date.
Not that I was even thinking about trying out another stranger. It was bad enough telling the girls about my own failed blind date. At least I had been really busy at work and hadn’t had much time to sit down and provide details about my date weekend. I knew for sure that they would want to know how, why, and where it all went wrong if he was happy to spend four days with me. I just said things were off between us and I didn’t even tell them that I was crazy enough to stay involved in his service. They may have demanded I see a head doctor. Even I questioned myself at first.