The fucker was screwing some chick on my couch — my couch!
“At least he asked if you wanted to join them,” Ayris reminds.
“After the fact,” I say heatedly.
“Fucking models,” Brooke huffs.
“Fucking men,” Adele proclaims.
This gets a smile from me. My girlfriends always know how to cheer me up. We know how to raise each other’s spirits when the time comes. There’s the initial sad and depressed phase that includes a lot of tissues, takeout food, and junk food that is filled with understanding and compassion. Then, there’s the anger phase where we hate all men and where I workout my frustration in the gym on a punching bag, which is then quickly followed by the love of men as soon as we spot a sexy one with a great ass and smile — which then eventually leads us right back to the beginning of the cycle.
“You know what you need, Harper?” Ayris asks.
“What?” I reply nervously.
“A one night stand,” Ayris returns.
“No,” I object. “I don’t need any man in my pants right now, unless he’s battery operated.”
“How about your mouth?” Adele snickers.
“What?” I reply, choking on my sip of my sour apple martini.
“You do need someone to smooch with when the clock strikes twelve.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I counter.
“It’s a great idea!” shouts Brooke.
“Making out with a stranger on New Year’s is the best way to get over a guy,” Adele confirms.
“Uh…no,” I counter.
“Uh…yeah,” Ayris interjects. “It helped me two years ago and Brooke the year before that.
“It definitely helped,” encourages Brooke. “Especially if one of us takes a picture of it and then sends it to Owen.”
“No,” I reply as my eyes inflate a little. I pause for a second, considering the option. I wouldn’t mind having a picture of me making out with a hot guy sent to Owen. It would show him that I’ve moved on and that he’s missing out.
“I’ve got an idea,” Ayris announces. “He’s got to be not your usual type.”
“What?” I laugh nervously.
“Yes!” Adele shouts supportively.
“No,” I challenge, though I’m kind of excited by the idea.
“Shut up. It’s happening,” Ayris directs.
I smile to myself as the idea settles in.
“No pretty boys,” Brooke begins plotting.
“And, no average ones,” Ayris adds.“They don’t have as much stamina or experience as the ones with a good body.”
“We can’t have our girl hooking up with a guy who hasn’t had enough experience kissing, let alone look any less attractive than Owen,” Adele adds.
“He’s got to be hotter and sexier than Owen,” Brooke comments.
My mouth opens to comment, but they keep shooting off ideas and at least one or two of them are talking at the same time, not giving me a second to be heard even if I did jump in. My eyes dart back and forth between them as I watch diarrhea of the mouth flow freely around me.
“Tall. He’s got to be tall,” Adele says.
“She always goes for guys who are eye level when she’s wearing heels and she won’t wear anything taller than three inches,” Ayris claims.
“So, he’ll have to be over six foot,” Brooke says.
“His eyes,” Ayris adds. “They have to be dreamy…and sparkle.”
“Yes,” agrees Adele.
“Dark and brooding with a hint of softness,” Brooke includes.
“What color?” Adele asks.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ayris returns. “It’ll depend on the gaze and feeling he gives off.”
“What about his clothes?” Adele asks. “He can’t be too nice or preppy looking.”
“Or sloppy,” Brooke mentions.
“I would say that depends on his face,” Ayris returns. “Ooh….he needs to be scruffy or have a beard.”
“No!” I interject, but they ignore me.
I hate, no, I loathe beards, especially the ones that just grow and aren’t well taken care of. It’s a pet peeve of mine.
“Yes!” the three of them shout at the same time.
“You hate beards,” Ayris reminds. “So, a beard is a must!”
“Fuck me,” I mumble, knowing that they’re not going to stop until they pick a guy, and even worse until I actually kiss him tonight.
“Okay…so, I think we have our description of him,” Adele states.
“A badass vibe, but with sweet, intense eyes, at least week old facial hair, or more, but it has to be well trimmed, ‘cause you ladies know how if he’s not willing to keep his face looking nice, then the rest of him is icky…tall, handsome and rugged at the same time…definitely tats if we can see them above the collar or on his arms with the sleeves rolled up.” Ayris summarizes.
“No,” I object.
“You don’t have a say in this,” Adele challenges.
“If my lips are connecting with his, I do,” I argue.
“Nope,” Brooke interjects. “You lost the ability to weigh in on this.”
“Since when?” I huff.
“Since you had a bad judgment call on the last two guys you dated,” Adele comments.
“Now, ladies,” Ayris states excitedly. “Let’s see who we can find.”
They stand up at the same time from our booth and I watch the three of them scan the party and cringe at the very idea of all of this. A dreadfully nervous feeling stirs in my belly, causing me to stand in hopes of seeing who I’m going to be paired with just in case I’m going to have to drink more for it to happen.
“There!” Adele shouts, pointing in a direction.
I shift to see where they’re looking as they whisper to each other, but they’re blocking my view. The three of them quickly turn around and sit before I can see who they’ve chosen from the blob of bodies.
“Who?” I inquire, plopping down in my seat again.
“We’ll tell you….” Brooke snickers.
My head tilts in request for her to expound, but she doesn’t.
“We’ll tell you…but, when it gets closer to midnight. That way you don’t try to run and hide,” Ayris replies with a devious grin.
“Here,” Brooke says, handing me her drink. “You’re going to need some liquid courage.”
“No,” I refuse. “I don’t want to be hammered.”
“You need to have a good enough buzz if you’re going to do it,” Ayris states.
“Fine,” I huff, taking Brooke’s martini and chugging the rest of it.
“Ten minutes,” Adele announces after checking her phone. “Let’s take our positions for who we’re going to kiss.”
“I’ll keep an eye on this one,” Ayris announces. Her head tilts in my direction.
“What?” I question with mock hurt feelings.
“You can’t be trusted,” Ayris says. “So, I’ll pick one of his friends to kiss.”
“You all suck,” I announce.
“We know,” Adele confirms happily.
“I’ve been told I suck really well,” Ayris quips.
The four of us giggle and then chug the last of our drinks before getting up in search of our grand finale for the night.
Reese
The guys drag me out for New Year’s, knowing that I’m not in the mood to party, let alone be with a bunch of rowdy strangers. Do I like to have a good time? Yes. It’s just that I’m on-call for work and can’t really relax. I’d much rather be at my place or one of theirs hanging out with a few friends, playing video games, pool, or anything other than being at this club with over four hundred people in it. We’re crammed in and you can barely move two feet without bumping into several people at the same time, let alone the loud music and flashing lights that are making it hard to see.
Any other night, when I can actually relax and cut loose, I’m always up for getting out of the apartment. The guys keep me
sane when it comes to being social and I don’t mind chatting, having a few beers, and checking out the hot women in the bars and clubs we frequent each month. Tonight, however, I have to be a bit more reserved with my choices of drinks and who I’m willing to socialize with other than my friends.
I got used to working so much at the last hospital I was employed at that I had forgotten what it was like to have friends, let alone a social life, until I moved back here to New York eight months ago. My last job was too stressful. There should have been at least three more doctors on payroll, but the manager was cheap and an ass. He’d have us work twenty-hour shifts if he could, especially us younger, newer vets. I started working there while I was in college and stayed on once I graduated. When work consumed my life to the point where I wasn’t even getting the chance to visit any family during holidays for an entire year, I quit and came back home. I had enough money saved up to afford to move in with the guys and look for a job for at least a year. With my excellent grades and the fact that I had worked at the same place for as long as I did, the first place I interviewed with hired me. Overall, the hours are better and the pay is much more.
“Come on, man,” Gabe encourages. “Relax at least a little.” He hands me a beer.
“I can’t,” I counter.
“It’s almost midnight,” Logan states. “Don’t be a pussy and at least have a drink.”
“I am what I eat,” I reply with a grin, wanting to redirect our conversation off of me.
I’ve been with a few kind-of-serious girlfriends and none of them have complained about my bikini burger munching ability as Gabe calls it. I snort to myself at the phrase.
“Nice,” Carter laughs, high-fiving me.
“Drink it slow,” Gabe states. “You’re not going to find a chick to kiss if you don’t have a drink in your hand.”
“A drink doesn’t sway a woman to kiss a guy or not,” I argue.
“At a place like this, it does,” Gabe replies. “I’ve already got three potential chicks.”
“How?” I investigate.
Gabe’s always has fucked up logic when it comes to dating and the opposite sex.
“‘Cause I got skills, man,” Gabe boasts.
“You wish,” Logan interjects. “Remember last weekend?”
Logan, Carter, and I laugh at the memory. A chick walked out of Gabe’s bedroom, complaining about how he was unable to eat her peach properly after trying for about thirty minutes.
“That’s bullshit,” Gabe challenges. “And, like I said, she did not have a peach. It was more like a shag carpet. I mean…come on ladies. Wax that shit!”
“And…that’s why you have a challenge with the ladies,” Carter roasts.
“No, I don’t,” Gabe argues.
I take a sip of the beer Gabe gave me, chuckling at their banter as I scan the room. It’s been three months since I’ve been in a relationship and I’m missing the benefits of one. The last chick I dated, Lily, was interesting. I’m not one to bash women, but she was a pain in the ass when she was trying to change me just two months into us seeing each other; this while she was apparently fucking two other guys and also blatantly tried hooking up with Gabe too. So, I dumped her that night and never looked back.
As the night ticks on, I nurse my beer and shoot the shit with my friends when they aren’t talking with a chick. A number of drunk ones, really drunk ones, come up to us, but I don’t pay them much attention. Yeah, they’re cute, but I’m not into the slutty-drunkard chicks who are as obvious as the ones that I’m seeing tonight. I’m all about having a good time, but to get yourself that inebriated is not my thing.
At some point, I check my phone for the time and notice that it’s almost midnight. For starters, I’m double checking to make sure I didn’t miss a call alerting me that the hospital needs me as well as to find out how much longer until I can head home and get some sleep since I have the morning shift.
Suddenly, someone bumps into me.
“Sorry,” a female voice says.
I look down and am met with sparkling, amber eyes that are surrounded by golden, long hair. My eyes immediately drop to her lips and I feel my caveman instincts kicking in. I lose my breath when she smiles. My dick hardens instantly and my throat dries, forcing me to chug the rest of my beer.
“Ayris, back up,” she shouts, pushing her friend off of her.
The friend looks drunk, but I’m not sure about the goddess before me. Her mouth moves again when she looks back at me, but I can’t make out her words.
“What?” I ask, leaning forward to hear her.
“Sorry,” she repeats, leaning the rest of the way into me.
Her warm, plump breasts press into my chest and it feels like I’m about to come in my pants. Man, does she smell fucking amazing.
“My friend gets a little excited at New Year’s,” she states as her lips brush against my earlobe two times as she speaks.
Instinctually, my free hand darts to her hip, holding her steady when her friend and two others bump into her, pushing her further into my body.
We exchange a nervous smile when she pulls her face away from my chest. Our eyes stay locked and it’s as if all the commotion around us dissolves. Time stands still at this very moment as I stare at her lips. Now I know who I’m going to kiss tonight.
Without warning, her mouth is on mine. When she pulls away for a breath, my hand moves quickly from her hip to her back, capturing her neck and pulling her closer. My tongue darts out, eager to taste more of the candy flavor of her lips. She returns the embrace, snaking one of her hands up my chest, behind my neck and into my hair. Her tongue tastes just as sweet as her lips and my dick gets even harder at the thought of her pussy having the same flavor.
“See,” Logan’s voice says in my ear. “We told you there’d be a chick to kiss.”
My eyes dart around, wondering where she has suddenly gone.
“You okay, man?” Logan asks.
“Where did she go?” I search feeling dazed and confused.
“Who?”
“The chick I was just kissing,” I state.
“Don’t know,” Logan replies. “I just saw the back of her head. The first time just before you two kissed and then again right before her friend kissed me after I just kissed some other chick.”
“Fuck,” I groan.
“Do you think they’d be up for a three-way?” Logan inquires.
Ignoring him, I look frantically for the goddess who blessed me with the taste of heaven. I dart through the crowd that seems still caught up in the rush of the new year arriving, desperate to find her, but my Cinderella is nowhere to be found.
Harper
It’s been four weeks since New Year’s Eve and I can honestly say that I feel great and that Owen has barely crossed my mind. The girls keep saying that it’s all because of the kiss I had with Mr. tall, grey-eyed, sexy beard, at least one partially hidden forearm tattoo, dreamy hunk. I don’t agree with them one hundred percent, but that was the best fucking kiss I’ve ever had in my whole life.
I’m no slut, but I’ve kissed a lot of boys since I was fourteen. I’d have to say I’ve made out with at least twelve, maybe more during my drunken bouts in college, but have only slept with five of them. I’m a firm believer in a girl getting to know her body as well as her own wants, desires, and fantasies before getting married.
That kiss replays in my mind several times a day and especially when I masturbate. He smelled divine, his lips were so soft yet firm enough to know how to kiss, his tongue was tasty and I actually enjoyed the scratch of his scruff against my skin. I found myself gliding my fingers along his chin twice as we made out for some strange reason. I hate the look of beards, but his was mesmerizing. He looked rugged and sexy and I loved the way it tickled my lips and cheeks. I walked away from that kiss reluctantly, but I’m glad I left when I did. My chest was pulsing. I was panting, and I felt like if we kept going that I was going to do more than just make out with the guy.
> Part of me wonders if I’ll ever see him again. I chide myself at night when masturbation only goes so far for not at least sticking around to see what would have happened with him. I’ve had a one-night stand before. It didn’t go well, mind you, but for some reason, this guy seemed like he would have been more than just one night.
Today, I head out about a half hour before the sun is scheduled to rise. The girls can sleep through almost anything, so I don’t have to walk around the apartment like a cat. The four of us live together in New York to keep our rent and other expenses low, live safely, and somehow save money when we’re not spending it on clothes, shoes, books, food, and wine.
Brooke’s a nurse, Adele is a bartender, Ayris works for a fashion magazine, and I’m a photographer slash graphic designer. I work mostly from home, running my own online business. I do a wide range of photography, trying to always keep myself open to new opportunities and to keep it interesting. Ayris’ magazine has used me for a few spreads, mostly last minute photo shoots where something happened. I never asked what occurred exactly for them to need me in just a few hours notice, but I was grateful for the money, the exposure, and what it did for my portfolio. My shots have never been on the front cover, but I’ve at least have those as a part of my resume if I ever need it. I’ve started a collection of each magazine I’m in aside from a general portfolio online.
Mondays are my favorite day when everyone else in New York hates them. While people are late getting up to head to work for the day, I’m already finishing up either a workout class, a jog or a long walk (paired with the occasional ride on the subway) through the different streets of New York, taking photos of anything that inspires me.
Today’s trip is with a hot chocolate through Central Park and my camera in hand, enjoying the hazy, cool morning as most avoid the outdoors during this time of year. On my way back to the apartment, I grab another cup of hot chocolate and relax in the cafe’s window box that overlooks the street. I read a little when I’m not peering out the window people watching.