I was fine with it. There’s more to life than sex and love, right? I had a great job, plenty of money and thanks to the public employees union and the generous benefits they negotiated on my behalf, plenty of time to enjoy it. And I did enjoy it, traveling usually. I also bought myself a sexy black Chevy Camaro and even had the stripes repainted pink. I loved books and found a house with a nice sunny window seat overlooking the garden. Life was good even if I wasn’t married and having babies.
Honestly, I’d learned a long time ago that marriage was usually more trouble than it was worth. I can’t even begin to count the marriages I’d seen fail and usually because the couple should never have gotten married anyway. It was sad. I suppose having kids would have been nice, but I didn’t give it much thought anymore. I had a nice thing going on and I’d learned to enjoy my own company a long time ago.
However, chaos has a way of upsetting order, usually when you least expect it and in ways you can’t predict. That’s exactly what happened to me. My coworker and friend, Ted, asked me out. No, not like that. Ted is gay, very gay, but a great guy and a lot of fun to be around. In fact, he’s one of my only real friends. Ted wanted me to go out with him and his partner, Ed. Yeah, Ted and Ed. I’m not kidding.
Anyway, that’s when the trouble began. We went for dinner, Mexican, and then to a gay bar for drinks. I loved gay bars. I know some women went to them to get away from the pushy guys at regular night clubs but not me. I loved them because I didn’t have to be reminded that those pushy guys rarely, if ever, came on to me. With Ted and Ed at the gay bar, the men didn’t hit on me either but the reason wasn’t my weight or my drab looks. It was because they were gay and somehow that made it all better.
The women, the lesbians anyway, didn’t approach me either but I didn’t mind. They probably all assumed I was straight since I was hanging with two very gay men. I wasn’t interested in women anyway as far as I knew so attracting their attention wasn’t a big concern. Ted, Ed and I found seats at the bar. “What do you want, sweetie?” Ted asked me.
“Uh, something fruity,” I told him.
“Well, you’ve already got two fruits sitting right here,” Ted replied and laughed at his own joke. “And you, sexy?” he asked Ed.
“Besides you?” Ed answered suggestively.
“Stop fucking around, you sexy thing,” Ted playfully admonished his boyfriend and slapped him on the behind.
“Um, how about a wine cooler,” Ed replied turning serious again. Ted was a thin, slight man with heavily styled blonde hair, a trimmed beard and thick-framed black glasses. As usual, Ted dressed like he was going to be on the cover of GQ magazine at any moment. Ed, on the other hand, was a stocky, balding man with dark hair and smiling eyes. He almost always wore fancy suits with colorful shirts and ties. They made a cute couple and never failed to make me laugh.
Ted ordered and then turned to me. “Emily, you look fab tonight,” he said. I looked down at my brown tights, khaki pleated skirt that covered my knees, white blouse and brown sweater and then back at Ted. I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Really?” I asked. I knew I wasn’t the epitome of fashion, not even close really, and I was OK with that.
“You’re rockin’ that subtle librarian thing you’ve got going on,” he said and winked at me. I rolled my eyes. Ted was a sweetheart. Around him, I didn’t have to be reminded that I was overweight and unattractive. He liked me for who I was even if that wasn’t very exciting.
“You’re silly, Ted,” I told him and then he hugged me as our drinks appeared. We drank and talked, mostly about mundane stuff, books, movies and our cats. It wasn’t glamorous and I had the feeling Ted and Ed, though they enjoyed my company, had invited me out of sympathy. Maybe I was wrong but it seemed like they both could be having more fun without me.
“You two should dance or something. I don’t mind sitting alone,” I told them as our drinks dwindled and the conversation slowed.
“Yeah?” Ted asked.
“Yeah, go have fun. Besides, I like watching Ed dance,” I teased. Ted laughed but Ed stood up and mimicked his own unique style of dance.
“That’s right, I’ve got it going on, baby!” he declared. I joined Ted in laughing at Ed.
“Let’s go, darling. Before you hurt somebody,” Ted joked and pulled Ed out to the dance floor. As I watched I ordered another strawberry daiquiri. As I enjoyed watching the two gay lovers dancing I noticed a woman approaching. I figured she was going to ask if she could have one of the boys’ seats. The bar was becoming crowded.
“You look lonely,” she said as she took one of the stools without asking.
“Sorry, those are taken,” I said.
“I know. I’m Margo. What’s your name?” The woman announced. She was pretty with long dark hair and matching eyes. Her ample cleavage was evident above the black bustier she wore under her leather jacket. Her blue jeans hugged her round ass and shapely legs but something told me she was hard and toned. The heels of her leather boots hooked behind the foot rail on the stool and she sat like a man, legs spread, and stared at me.
“Emily. Um, those seats are taken,” I reiterated.
“Your friends are busy. Simon, another Coors,” she shouted to the bartender. He brought her beer and my daiquiri but Margo paid for both. “I got it, honey,” Margo said.
“Thanks,” I replied and waited for her to leave. Margo was making me uncomfortable. Frankly, she scared me. I flinched as she reached behind my head and removed the clip that held my sandy hair up.
“That’s better. Why do you hide your beauty? Shake your head,” Margo demanded. At least I felt like it was a demand. I did, not sure what else to do, and she smiled. “Perfect. You should wear it down. You look pretty,” she told me.
“Um...it’s easier up,” I said. Why wasn’t she going away? Suddenly, Margo’s hand slipped behind my head, she pulled me close and her lips met mine. She slipped her tongue into my mouth and I went stiff. Margo moaned but I think I squeaked. She broke the kiss but held my head as she stared into my eyes.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I take it you’re hetero but if you ever want to take a walk on the wild side, sweetie, look me up,” Margo told me. She let me go, handed me a business card, grabbed her beer and walked away, her shapely ass swaying as she did. Ted and Ed stood in front of me with goofy grins.
“What the hell was that?” Ted asked.
“She just kissed me. I don’t know,” I said feeling faint and shaky.
“Looked pretty serious to me,” Ed observed as they took their stools again.
“It wasn’t. I don’t even know her,” I said as I came back to myself. Ed laughed but Ted looked at me and cocked an eyebrow.
“You’re straight, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes! I suppose,” I said.
“You suppose?” Ed replied.
“Well, I like men. I just haven’t been with any,” I admitted. I wanted to be with a man I guess. I just never had a man offer. Maybe I never gave them an opportunity but in any case, I had given up worrying about it.
“Oh, Emily. You’re a virgin?” Ted asked. I looked at the floor ashamed.
“Yes,” I said and looked up sheepishly. Both the boys looked at me with a mix of compassion and pity. “I want to go home,” I said. The boys didn’t argue and took me back to my dreary house. We barely spoke. I was too embarrassed. Ted tried to reassure me it was no big deal but the way he and Ed looked at me told me otherwise. Once I got home, I undressed, threw on my pajamas and climbed into bed. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the ceiling wondering when things went so wrong.
>>O<<
It was nearly noon when I woke up on Sunday morning. My cats, Inky and Puff, were snuggled up against me. It took hours for me to go to sleep as I pondered my life. It wasn’t just the fact I was a virgin or that I wasn’t married. It was the fact I was alone and probably always would be. Even though it was nearly mid-day, I felt like I had barely slept at all. Once I did fall asleep, I
kept having the same dream over and over again, Margo pulling me close and kissing me.
I’d been kissed before. I’d dated a guy here and there over the years, though if I was being truthful the last time was almost six years ago. I even almost had sex once. But it was my modestly and awkwardness that ruined it. Why couldn’t I just let him leave the light on? I pretended it didn’t bother me but it did. All of it bothered me. My looks, how introverted I’d become, everything. I’d managed to push it all down inside and there it stayed.
But Margo told me she thought I was hiding my beauty. I had a hard time believing that but it felt nice to hear it. Now that simple compliment had me wondering how I had let myself go down this path. I wasn’t always this introverted. I was always shy but as time went on I chose to avoid situations that made me feel uncomfortable. Discomfort became fear and now I hardly engaged anyone outside of work.
Then I remembered the card. I shot out of bed and went to go find it. What did I do with it? I couldn’t remember. It wasn’t in my handbag or the pocket of my skirt. Damn! Where did I put it? I’m not sure why I was so desperate to find it, but I was. Then I remembered. I found my sweater and sure enough it was in the pocket. Thank goodness.
“Freedom Press, Margo McAlister, President,” I read aloud. Hmm. Why did I want to talk to her so badly? I knew part of it was to ask her about what she had said, that I was beautiful, but there was more. Who was she and why did she kiss me? Why me? I grabbed my phone and tapped the screen to input her number. It rang once and she picked up.
“This is Margo,” she answered.
“Margo, this is Emily...um, from last night,” I replied timidly. Suddenly I was having second thoughts.
“Hello Emily, hold on,” she said and then began talking to someone else, “Stop it, Cecilia. I’m on the phone.” Margo laughed. “Sorry, so what can I do for you?” she asked and then groaned and told Cecilia to stop whatever she was doing again.
“Um...is this a bad time?” I asked.
“No, it’s my cat. Sorry,” she told me. I was imagining something else. Something much more intimate that involved Margo being nude and another woman doing something naughty to her. I blushed and was glad this was only a phone call.
“Well, you told me I could call you if I...,” I began to say and then remembered her exact words, if I wanted to take a walk on the wild side. I wasn’t calling for that. “I mean, I was just wondering why you did that?” I asked.
“Kissed you? Like I said, I couldn’t help myself. Is that why you really called?” she asked pointedly. I couldn’t ignore the sultry, smoky tone to her voice.
“I’m not sure why I called, honestly. I just...I...I guess I just wanted to talk,” I stammered.
“Do you have plans tonight, Emily?” Margo asked. I told her I didn’t. I rarely did. “Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at six for dinner. Wear something...pretty but casual,” she told me. It was more of a demand than a request.
“OK,” I replied.
“See you at six, Emily,” Margo said and hung up. I just stood in my living room wondering what I’d just gotten myself into. Inky, my black and gray calico cat, looked up at me as if he was wondering too.
>>O<<
Pretty but casual. Casual I had but pretty, not so much. Maybe I was putting too much thought into this but it was better than thinking about my dinner with Margo. The less I let my mind ponder that, the better. I barely knew the woman. I knew she was a lesbian, well I guess I assumed that, I knew she was the president of something called Freedom Press, a publisher maybe, and I knew she had a cat named Cecilia. I guess I also knew she was stunningly beautiful.
Anyway, I finally decided on beige leggings, an espresso sweater dress and some, wait for it, brown flats. Was everything I owned a shade of brown? I guess it looked pretty. I put my hair up, but I put a little more work into it and even put on some lip-gloss. Ugh! I was lost when it came to this stuff. I was never into clothes and makeup but over the years, I just stopped caring at all.
I had an hour before Margo was supposed arrive. I sat down at my computer and before I knew it, I was writing another silly story. I don’t remember when I began doing this, but it probably started in high school. Fantasies went down on paper instead of becoming reality. Over the years, little scenes became stories. Now I actually had dozens of novels sitting on my hard drive, another escape from the dreary reality of my life.
Six o’clock came and went and no Margo. Great! I was going to get stood up by a lesbian. Ten after six, Margo finally showed. I answered the door and found her in a black pleated mini-skirt, a pink blouse that hugged her shapely body left unbuttoned to show her more than ample cleavage along with clunky high-heeled sandals that showed her pink toenails that matched her fingernails and lipstick.
“Sorry I’m late, I got lost. Nice place,” she greeted me and walked in like she owned the place.
“Come on in,” I said and closed the door.
“You live here alone?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I told her.
“So is that your Camaro in the driveway?” she wondered.
“Yeah, it caught my eye,” I answered as Margo wandered around my living room. She stopped at the shelves I’d built that held all my books. I had an e-reader but I just loved the way a good book felt in my hands and I read a lot of books.
“Nice collection. A lot of trashy romances but I’m a sucker for trashy romances myself. Lots of good stuff too. What do you do for a living?” Margo asked me as she turned to face me. Both cats had appeared and began sniffing at Margo. She bent and picked up Inky as Puff, my fluffy white cat, turned her nose up at the woman and walked away.
“I’m batgirl. If you pull the right book those shelves open to reveal my cave,” I said. Margo didn’t even crack a smile. So much for trying to be funny.
“No, really. Do you work with books?” she asked ignoring my joke.
“I’m a librarian. I manage the fiction collection at the university,” I told her. Margo was making me uncomfortable again.
“I can tell. You know your books. I run a publishing company, Freedom Press. Mainly LGBT fiction but we handle other stuff too. Batgirl? That’s funny,” she said and finally she smiled. I guess my joke didn’t go unnoticed. “So, how about Italian?” she asked suddenly and set Inky down.
“Yeah, I like Italian,” I said. Margo walked over as I grabbed my purse and put her hand on the small of my back. I was surprised but it was more a friendly gesture than anything. She led me outside and to her truck. It was big and tall and black. It had pink pin striping too. Not as ostentatious as the stripes on my car but they were almost the exact same color. She opened my door and I climbed in. Before she closed it Margo shook her head and said, “Batgirl. Classic.”
We rode to the restaurant in near silence. Margo was hard to read, not quite frowning but definitely conserving her smiles. She seemed to be talking at me sometimes instead of to me. Maybe it was me. She scared me. Once we were at the restaurant and seated in a booth against a dark brick wall with a cheap oil painting hanging over us, however, she opened up a little. “You like wine?” she asked.
“Yeah, white,” I said. Red was just too much for me.
“Ever had a good bottle of Cab?” she asked and I shook my head. “Trust me. Bad red wine is really bad. Good read wine, however...,” she said leaving the conclusion to me.
“OK,” I replied. She ordered the wine and he left to retrieve the bottle she’s requested. He returned minutes later and poured us both a fat glass after Margo approved of it. After he had poured our glasses, Margo asked the waiter to give us some time. I took a healthy sip to sooth my nerves.
“So you wanted to talk?” Margo asked opening up the real conversation. I took another sip of wine and then swallowed.
“Um...I don’t know how to ask this but...,” I began and when I hesitated Margo jumped in.
“I told you, Emily. I don’t know. You caught my eye and I couldn’t help myself. Look, I’
m guessing you know I’m a lesbian. You’re not my really type but I just needed to feel your lips against mine. Maybe my subconscious sees something in you. Something tells me you’ll be a challenge. I like that,” she explained.
“So, you don’t know why either?” I wondered.
“If you’re asking why I chose you, no I don’t. Not really. Can I be honest, Emily?” Margo asked.
“Sure, I guess,” I told her though I wasn’t sure I really wanted her to be honest. I was afraid of what she was going to say. I was afraid she was going to tell me what I already knew. I was overweight and pathetic. A twenty-eight year old virgin. Plain, boring and unremarkable in every way. But she didn’t.
“You aren’t my type but not because of your looks or your figure. I like girls that are, well that are a bit less reserved than you. Hell, I like my girls loud and raunchy and in your face. You aren’t any of those things yet I’m drawn to you. When I let your hair down last night, I saw it. That black and pink Camaro too. Batgirl. I keep seeing flashes of a girl desperate to get out of the shell you’ve put her in. I don’t know why but I want to help that girl escape, Emily,” Margo said and bit her lower lip. Why did I find that so arousing?
She reached out and let my hair down again. “See, there she is,” Margo told me. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel like there was some part of me desperate to get out. In fact, I was sure there wasn’t.
“I don’t know what you’re seeing, but I don’t think there are any other girls in here,” I assured Margo. She reached out and stroked my face and smiled gently.
“Robinson Crusoe, The Call of the Wild, Pippi Longstocking, Fifty Shades?” Margo replied. All of those books sat on my shelves. “That’s a lot of adventure for a shy librarian. You know the stereotype don’t you? The librarian with a wild side. That, like so many stereotypes, is largely inaccurate but, like so many stereotypes, is built on a shred of truth. You like reading about adventure, travel and romance. Maybe you should live it,” Margo told me.
Big Girls & Bad Boys: 8 Scorching Hot BBW Alpha Male Romance Novellas Box Set Page 18