by Kelly Myers
I let out a sigh of pleasure as my hand brushes against his firm stomach muscles. I slide my finger around to his back and grip him tightly.
Then I shove at his chest until he rolls off me so I can straddle him. I look down at his mussed hair and eager face, and I smile. Not so stiff after all. And, I hope not so vanilla.
I begin to unbutton his shirt, peppering kisses on each patch of revealed skin. He has healthy carpet of chest hair, which is not surprising. His facial hair must grow fast, and that’s why he keeps a bit of stubble.
I reach the end of the buttons, and he sits up halfway to remove the shirt. I place my hands on his chest and look down at him as I start to grind myself against his lower stomach. Leo lets out a moan, and grips my hips with firm hands. I can feel his hardness, and I relish how much he wants me.
He initiated the kiss back at the bar, but I figure I’m going to have to take the lead in bed. It’s alright; I’m used to it. I’m not scared to ask for what I want.
Just as I’m about to slip my dress off my shoulders completely, Leo leans up and flips me onto my back in one fluid motion. I gasp in shock and delight as he pushes my skirt up so it pools around my hips. Without hesitating, he presses his knee between my legs and awakens a rush of feeling.
Then he starts tugging at my underwear, and I lift my hips to help him out. As soon as my underwear hit the floor, he slides a finger along my wet flesh as he tugs the top of my dress lower so it reveals both breasts.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.
I’m not usually a fan of sappy comments during sex. It’s about carnal pleasure and lust, after all, but something about the way Leo says it, with such raw seriousness, as if my beauty is a fact, sends vibrations of joy through my limbs.
I want to kiss him with fierceness, but his head disappears, as he moves down to place his mouth between my legs.
“Is this ok?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes.”
Then I lose the ability to form words as he begins to lick and suck me, all while pushing first one finger, then another inside me.
Leo may be chronically single, but it’s not because of his performance in bed. He knows exactly what he’s doing as he listens to my gasps and moans and teases each sensitive spot with his mouth and fingers.
I close my eyes and lose myself to the sensation building within me as Leo guides me closer and closer to the edge. I feel something strong and swift building in me, but before I go tumbling over the edge, Leo rises up.
I let out a cry at his absence, but then I see him tearing off his pants and boxers, and I wholeheartedly support such actions. My entire body aches for him. I want more of him, all of him, all over me, inside and out.
He snatches a condom from his bedside table, and then he spreads out atop me. In one motion, he plunges into me. I’m so ready that he sinks deep and slick into me, and I hold him there with my legs.
My mind disappears from my body, and all I can do is chase the feeling of total bliss. Leo moves inside me, and his hard cock glides against a spot deep within that sends waves of ecstasy through my core.
I push my back off the bed and roll my hips. As if he reads my thoughts, Leo lowers his own back to the bed, and holds me as I rotate so that I’m on top. He starts to moan as I set my own rhythm, taking him inside me deeper, and moving my hips so that he brushes against my clit as I ride him.
I feel myself clench around him as I spiral into my orgasm. I tip my head back and gasp as the sensation overtakes my entire body. I hear him grunt and feel one final thrust as he achieves his own climax.
The wave lasts a while, and I suck in huge breaths of air as stars dance across my vision, and the very tips of my toes buzz in satisfaction.
At long last, I lift myself off Leo and collapse onto my back beside him.
I lay staring up at the ceiling, my dress still bunched up around my waist. Leo shifts to a sitting position and looks down at me.
I give him a saucy smile. “I didn’t think that was going to happen.”
“Me neither.” He lets out a soft chuckle.
Then he stands up and ambles towards the bathroom.
And, I’m left slowly coming back down to reality where I have to face the inevitable fact: I just had the best sex I’ve had in a long time with a guy who hired me to be his fake girlfriend.
9
I decide to behave as I normally do after a hook-up. I slip into the bathroom once Leo is done, and I pull my underwear and dress back on after relieving myself.
Then I waltz back into the bedroom, where Leo is sitting on the bed in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. I let my eyes savor the clean lines of his back and arms. Might as well enjoy the last look.
“Well, that was fun,” I say with a breezy smile.
Then I scoop up my purse and let him walk me to the door. No goodbye kiss, that would just confuse us both.
After years of experience, I’m something of an expert on the casual hook-up. Not that I sleep around or anything. Just most of my relationships have been of the casual variety.
It’s only when I’m back in my tiny room that I start to come down from the post-coital high.
It’s that damned envelope full of cash that does it. Why couldn’t the idiot use a payment app or even write a check.
The cash just looks shady. As I’ve done something wrong to earn it.
Once I’ve changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth, I pick up the envelope and hold it while sitting cross-legged in bed.
I open it and lift the bills out. I feel dirty as I count them. As if I just got paid to sleep with someone.
That’s not the truth though. We had a business arrangement. I acted as his girlfriend at a dinner, and he paid me after that. And before the sex. The sex was just something that happened spur of the moment.
I sigh as I finish counting the bills. Leo agreed to pay me $800, but he must believe in tips for good service, because there’s an even thousand in the envelope.
I shove the money back in the envelope. I’ll deposit it in my bank account as soon as I can. Then I’ll just put it away for next month’s rent. And the month after that.
Jesus. I just spent an entire evening with a man who is willing to casually spend a thousand dollars on a fake girlfriend. That’s messed up. And maybe I’m messed up for enjoying the night.
I groan and shove the money in my bedside table. I scoop up my phone. I’ve been texting updates to my friends throughout the night, as promised. The last one says I’m headed home.
I type out a final update: I’m home and in bed. All in all, the night was actually kinda fun.
I set my phone aside and chew on my lower lip. I’m going to tell my friends that I slept with Leo. We tell each other everything, and this is no different. Plus, I want them to validate me. I need them to tell me that I didn’t do anything ethically wrong. I’m not an escort or something. I’m just a woman who had sex with a man because we both wanted it. That’s all.
I just can’t explain the whole situation over text. I know they’re all going to freak out in all sorts of ways. Elena will be concerned about me hooking up with a near stranger. She doesn’t believe in one-night-stands. And Zoe will be wondering exactly what Leo’s game was. Did he just hire me in the first place to get in my pants? Meanwhile Beatrice will tell me I was silly to think this whole thing wouldn’t get complicated.
My head is spinning just at the thought of what they’ll say and what they will ask.
I don’t even have answers for all the questions I know they’ll have.
So I resolve to tell them later. In person where I can explain the entire night. I can give them a summary of how we ended up where we did.
Even though, right at this moment, I’m not entirely sure how we ended up in his bed.
What was the turning point? Was it when he invited me out for a celebratory drink? Or before that, when he held my hand as he led me out of the party?
I groan and flop
back into my bed. Why do I always manage to make a mess out of things that I think are going to be fun?
I wish I could say this is the first time my impulsive nature has gotten me into strange situations, but it’s not. The first college play I was cast in, I had a massive crush with the guy playing the lead. So did another girl in the play, and I willfully pursued him, all because I thought it might be cool to be in a love triangle. It was, of course, a total mess. And then after college, I’ve dated all these other singers and musicians, and every time, I’ve made choices based on what felt right in that moment. But half of them were sleeping with other women, which I found out later and of course got upset about, and the other half would just disappear for weeks at a time.
I take a steadying breath and remind myself that this situation really isn’t that bad. Both Leo and I were clearly on the same page. We were attracted to each other – in the moment – and we acted on that attraction. It’s not like we’re ever going to work together again.
Although we will see each other again. He comes into Lucy’s every morning, after all. I contemplate how feasible it is that I could work only afternoon shifts from here on out.
It’s impossible, of course. I need my afternoon and evenings free for gigs and music stuff.
Maybe Leo will stop coming in. He has to know it might be awkward, so he’ll just find another coffeeshop.
Of course, that will make me feel more awkward. I’ll have driven him away from his favorite place to get a dark roast.
And it doesn’t have to be awkward. It wasn’t awkward when I left his apartment. Or maybe it was, I just didn’t notice?
It’s not like me to overthink a sexual encounter, but the whole fake girlfriend element has thrown me for a loop. I can’t stop thinking about how technically I was “on the job.”
But no. The payment part of the night ended the second I left that bridal shower. After that, Leo and I were just two consenting adults having a bit of fun on a Friday night.
I’m glad I don’t have work tomorrow. I need a day off to just relax and reflect on tonight’s events.
Maybe I’ll do some songwriting. That always centers me. It’s kind of like my version of journaling.
Yes, a day dedicated totally to me strumming my guitar and scribbling down lyrics sounds ideal. When I’m in the zone with my music, nothing distracts me. Not men or the judgment of other people or even the judgment of myself. It’s just me and my music, nothing else.
I calm down as I think about getting to work on some songs after a nice night of rest.
Inspired by my plan, I go into the kitchen and refill my water bottle. If I drink the whole thing now, I’ll be nice and hydrated for tomorrow.
Once I’ve got the full water bottle, I curl up under my bed sheets. It’s almost midnight, and yet I’m still not sleepy. I could try and read or watch a TV show, but I know I’ll just get distracted.
I keep thinking about Leo’s face when he first kissed me. About the way he touched me. I didn’t know a guy like that could be so skilled in bed. Maybe it’s narrow-minded of me, but I thought guys who had passion in their lives were more passionate in bed. Everything about Leo is so cold and clinical and stiff, except for those moments when he smiled or made a joke. Maybe he’s passionate about his investment banking job, but that doesn’t really count. I’ve always been attracted to guys with creative spirits and artistic natures. And yet somehow, Leo blew all my past lovers out of the water when it came to physical chemistry.
I shrug it off. It doesn’t mean Leo and I have some sort of special connection. All it means is that I should cast a wider net. Maybe I don’t have to date only artist-types.
I frown as I remember that’s the term Leo used. Artist-types. He said it as if it was an insult.
There’s a certain type of guy I’ve come across. He’s serious and career-oriented and totally corporate, but he likes to have a wild night or two with a “free-spirited” woman. Those guys have come onto me at bars or during open mics, but I always show them the door.
I decide that Leo was one of those guys. He wanted to hook up with a whimsical pixie dream-girl just for a night, that’s all. He thinks I’m a starving artist (which I guess I sort of am) who has never made any practical choices, but he had some fun with me. That’s ok. I also had fun with him.
So, that’s all that is there to this night. Another whacky story in the books that I can whip out at dinner parties. Another one of Marianne Gellar’s famous misadventures.
I just won’t think about the money. I’ll use it of course, but I won’t stress about how rotten it makes me feel to have that envelope of Leo’s cash.
With my mind made up, I close my eyes and finally drift to sleep.
10
Leo shows up at the coffeeshop bright and early Monday morning. I was expecting it, but even so, when I see him at the register, I feel my eyes go wide and my shoulders tense up.
Unbidden, images of his tousled hair and bare chest pop into my head. I shake them off and focus on putting a cap on the latte in my hand.
After handing out the latte, I turn to Leo and give him a head nod and a cheerful smile. “Good morning.”
The same greeting I would give any of our regular customers. He seems stunned. But exactly what did he expect from me?
Did he think I was going to blurt out something inappropriate or run into the back? I’m a grown woman, I can handle a bit of awkwardness.
Leo stands stock still as he awaits his drink. He’s back to being Mr. Corporate, with a ramrod straight back and an impeccable suit. I guess he never stopped being that. I just got to see a few chinks in his armour on Friday, and he loosened up just a fraction.
I tear open the splenda packets with a bit more violence than is necessary and quickly pour the dark roast.
“Here you go,” I say as I place the drink at the hand-off counter.
Leo picks it up, but he lingers.
I turn to see if there’s a drink for me to make, but we’re having a random lull. Why is there no extremely difficult latte with a ton of add-ins when I desperately need something to occupy myself?
“How are you?” Leo asks.
“Oh, I’m good,” I say. “And you?”
I pray my co-workers aren’t listening in. I’m known for being pretty good at small talk with the customers. They’re all going to think I’ve lost my touch if they witness this awkward exchange. Or worse, they’ll guess the truth. Everyone at Lucy’s will be gossipping that I hooked up with a customer.
“I’m good,” Leo says. “Just going to work.”
“Ah, I figured.” I fiddle with the milk steaming wand and glance around the café. “I guess you don’t want to be late.”
It’s not very subtle, but it’s the only thing I can think of to remind him to get out of my place of work before I scream. I had no idea he could be this awkward. He wasn’t like this when we were kissing. He was confident and relaxed.
Leo just stares in response. Then he clears his throat.
Another customer walks in, and I almost cry. I'm so relieved. Hopefully the customer orders drinks for her entire office so I can bury myself behind the espresso bar.
“So thanks for, you know,” Leo says.
I turn to him with wide eyes. Is he really bringing this up right now?
“No worries,” I say.
At last, Leo seems to sense the tension in me, and he blinks. Why is it such a shock that I would be uncomfortable referencing the time he hired me to play his fake girlfriend and then we ended up having sex in front of everyone at Lucy’s.
Also, what exactly is he thanking me for? Being his fake date or the sex? Or both? I want to punch him, he’s so frustrating.
“Yeah, well, I’ll be going,” Leo says. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Sure, any time!” I give him a jaunty wave and turn my back.
My heart doesn’t stop racing until he’s been gone for five minutes.
As soon as I calm down, I start to curs
e myself for being such a spaz. It’s just a guy. Why did he shake me up so much?
It’s because he was being so weird and stiff. If I had known he would be this awkward, I never would have slept with him.
That’s a lie though. I really wanted to sleep with him the other night. I wasn’t thinking about if he would be awkward or not, and I wouldn’t have cared either way.
This is just another mess of a situation that I got myself into.
Not that it’s a mess. A few more awkward interactions like the one I just endured, and then this will all start to fade.
I’m convinced that the fake girlfriend gig was overall a success. My friends disagree though. I told them over brunch yesterday, and their jaws hit the floor when I said I slept with him.
Elena kept saying, over and over, that she thought he wasn’t my type. Zoe shook her head and called it a “Big Mistake,” and Beatrice just cackled with laughter. She said it was a good thing I was an artist because I wouldn’t last ten minutes in the professional world, no matter how well I can pretend to be in marketing.
I pointed out that I was never going to see Leo again, so what was the big deal? They argued that I was going to see him at Lucy’s, and what if he wanted to hook up again? Or date?
I assured them there was no chance. Leo was into me as a hook-up, but that was it. Everything he has said and done over the last week indicates that he looks down on my entire lifestyle. He thinks I’m not actually serious, and he thinks I’m irresponsible to still be working at a coffee shop when I have a college degree. I’m a great option for a casual hook-up, but nothing more. I read his little list of what he’s looking for in a perfect partner. And it’s not me.
I’m fine with that. I don’t want to seriously date Leo either. Which I told my friends. Zoe agreed it was probably for the best, but Elena didn’t even believe me. She asked if I was sure I would never date him. Elena is a romantic, and I relate to that, but I’m not nearly as nice as Elena. She sees the best in everyone, but I see Leo for what he is: a decent but snobby (and socially awkward) man who loves suits too much and is looking for Little Miss Perfect to move to the suburbs with him and have a few kids.