“And lord knows you’re a sucker for dimples,” she says with a grin. Noah, my doctor friend from work, has the most gorgeous dimple on one side that pops out with his panty dropping smile he flashes me frequently.
“Yes, yes I am,” I reply with a smile. Hmm, I wonder when Noah is getting back from his conference. I make a mental note to send him a text.
“And what else? What’s his name?”
“Daniel Winters.” I caress his name as I say it. It rolls off my tongue seductively, like it’s meant to be screamed out in climax. All this talk about Mr. Winters has me craving something warm in my bed, like now.
“Earth to Mac. What does he do?” the ever present Kate presses, frowning at me because she knows I’m lost in my thoughts.
“Ah, sorry. He’s a stockbroker. That’s not the best bit though. You want to know what he said next?” I tease, waiting for Kate’s typical over the top reaction.
“Oh my God, what did the holy hotness of fine say to you?” she says, almost bouncing with excitement.
“I asked him what he liked doing, you know, for fun. And without missing a beat he said candlelit dinners, long walks, and sex on the beach,” I say with a sly grin and a blush creeping up my face, still slightly embarrassed at my reply to him.
“And…” she says, looking at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“And I suggested that we start with my bed.”
“No, you didn’t! Holy shit, Mac, blunt much?” The fact that her mouth is agape at my answer gives me a hint that I’ve shocked her. It’s not something new to me. I shock Kate almost on a daily basis.
“Yup, why not?” I shrug my shoulders. I’ve been single and happy for the past four years; happily sexed up and fulfilled for the past eighteen months with three of the most accommodating and laid back guys I’ve ever met. What’s to complain about? If I see what I want, I go after it. I learned a long time ago that life is too short to wait around for good things to happen to you. You have to be proactive with this sort of thing.
“And?” She looks at me with her eyebrows raised.
“And we’re meeting up tomorrow night for a drink at 42nd Street Bar after my shift,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Nice! Does he have any hot single friends, maybe a smoldering older brother spawned from the same womb of heat?”
I crack up laughing. Kate’s always had a way with words. It’s one of the things I love about the girl. “Not sure, but I’ll find out for you,” I say with a wink.
“Knew I loved you for a reason, but I’m thinking we need to make this interesting now. I just read in here,” she picks up the Cosmo again, “that my three date rule is highly recommended. I think you should try it with Daniel.”
I cough. She can’t be serious. Three dates without sex? Holy God, my cookie will have packed up and left by then.
Kate believes in the three date rule, no sex until after three dates. If the guys aren’t in it for something other than a quick easy lay, they’ll stop calling after the first or second date. Kate’s philosophy is that three dates proves that there is some effort being made on his behalf. It works for her. It makes her happy, and when Kate is happy, I am happy. But not so much when she inflicts this rule on me!
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Three dates at least. Bet you can’t do it,” she adds with a smirk.
“Grrr, okay, you’re on. What do I get if I hold out?” I ask with interest.
“Dishes for a week?” she suggests with a grin, knowing how much I loathe cleaning.
“Dishes and laundry and you have a deal.”
“Okay, but I’m only agreeing because I know you can’t do it.” Her smile is huge now as she rubs her hands together with glee. She thinks this bet is a sure thing.
“Now, I need to get out of these scrubs and have a shower. Want to order in and watch Big Brother?”
“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” she says, flopping back on the couch and resuming her reading of the sixty-nine best sex positions for the female orgasm.
And that, my friends, is the beauty that is Kate McGuinness. Quick witted, straight to the point, and frustrating as hell. Well her three date rule is going to be!
After my shower, and our night of gorging on pizza and watching wannabes act like idiots on some reality TV show, I decide to call it a night and crawl into bed. Checking the time on my phone, I set my alarm for the morning. I’ve got one last day shift tomorrow, then I have a three day weekend, and tomorrow night I’m meeting up with Delicious Daniel. Who knows where that will lead?
I snuggle down under the blankets and start to check my emails when I feel my phone vibrate with a text message. It’s 11 p.m. Who would be texting me at this time of night? With a smile, I open the message, half expecting a horny text from Zander or a schedule check with Noah, but I see that it is from someone called “Sex on the beach.” I crack up laughing at his audacity. I love his sense of humor already. He doesn’t pull any punches, obviously. He’s a bit like me in that respect.
I haven’t always been like this. I got sucked into an abusive and toxic relationship four years ago and vowed to never have my life dictated by a man again, and to never fall in love. I’ve followed one of those vows, and only broken the other when Sean gets me on my knees and makes me beg for him. And then he does this thing where he….wait, oh yeah, the text from Daniel a.k.a. Sex on the beach.
Sex on the Beach: Hey, beautiful stranger, I’m lying in my bed fantasizing about all of the ways I can make you blush tomorrow night. It’ll be a challenge and a pleasure, for both of us.
Wowzers. This man is trouble with a capital T, and that’s just the kind of trouble I need.
Mac: Sex on the Beach is a fantastic drink. It’s fruity with an awesome aftertaste that stays on your tongue for hours.
Sex on the beach: You’re trouble, you know that?
Mac: Trouble can be fun.
Sex on the beach: I bet you are. But let’s get the drinks and awkward first date out of the way first, shall we? I am a southern gentleman after all.
My inner monologue is actually speechless. That is one for the record books. He’s played me at my own game and left me literally dumbstruck.
Mac: A southern gentleman who names himself Sex On The Beach?
Sex on the Beach: I’m an optimist, what can I say? By the way, I’m looking forward to seeing you out of those scrubs.