Everything about the moment screams: Yes! Do it! Grab the guy, kiss him!
I close my eyes, letting a shot of cognac burn on the way down. One benefit of hanging out with older men–no one cards you.
Sitting on a barstool next to Mr. Sexy Pants, at least that’s what all the secretaries call him; I move his hand to my thigh. His thumb strokes the exposed inner skin. Goosebumps. I’m wearing a navy/tan block blazer with a matching, short tailored skirt. His fingers reach up between the fabric and my skin. I silently thank the person that created business casual. My outfit is perfect for my summer intern job, as well as letting a handsome flirt get to first base.
I feel in control. I can do anything. My companion’s attention has given me that confidence. He’s said all the right things. Paid for all the right drinks. Made my inexperience–well, in everything–seem like an advantage. And he laughed at my jokes. He even put a hand on his heart when I made a deep point. He really gets me. …show more content…
No one ever gets me. I sigh. Maybe it’s the cognac, not my escort, that’s causing the warm fuzzies in my heart. I can’t be sure. I need to be sure.
“I could tell you anything,” I mumble, insinuating that I want to talk dirty.
“What do you want to tell me, Miss Shay Montgomery?” Sexy Pants asks. My name sounds good on his lips. He lets it slide over his tongue, stretching out the S’s and M’s.
I turn to him with every intention to go in for a kiss, and let my actions do the talking, because I know what he wants. What he expects. He wants one night with no strings attached. I’m ready to deliver. I just have no idea what to expect. It would be my first time.
My first
I close my eyes, letting a shot of cognac burn on the way down. One benefit of hanging out with older men–no one cards you.
Sitting on a barstool next to Mr. Sexy Pants, at least that’s what all the secretaries call him; I move his hand to my thigh. His thumb strokes the exposed inner skin. Goosebumps. I’m wearing a navy/tan block blazer with a matching, short tailored skirt. His fingers reach up between the fabric and my skin. I silently thank the person that created business casual. My outfit is perfect for my summer intern job, as well as letting a handsome flirt get to first base.
I feel in control. I can do anything. My companion’s attention has given me that confidence. He’s said all the right things. Paid for all the right drinks. Made my inexperience–well, in everything–seem like an advantage. And he laughed at my jokes. He even put a hand on his heart when I made a deep point. He really gets me. …show more content…
No one ever gets me. I sigh. Maybe it’s the cognac, not my escort, that’s causing the warm fuzzies in my heart. I can’t be sure. I need to be sure.
“I could tell you anything,” I mumble, insinuating that I want to talk dirty.
“What do you want to tell me, Miss Shay Montgomery?” Sexy Pants asks. My name sounds good on his lips. He lets it slide over his tongue, stretching out the S’s and M’s.
I turn to him with every intention to go in for a kiss, and let my actions do the talking, because I know what he wants. What he expects. He wants one night with no strings attached. I’m ready to deliver. I just have no idea what to expect. It would be my first time.
My first