by Haley Pierce
As the water pounded against the back of his head, he considered what Nicole actually thought of him. Did she assume he was as lonely as he felt? When she saw him, would she feel disappointment at his identity? Would she try to scramble out of it, only because she found him disgusting and—worst of all—sad?
He couldn’t dwell. He scrubbed at his curled hair and back, ensuring that he dug all the farmer grit from his skin. If even a jolt of “farmer smell” wafted through the roadhouse restaurant that night, he’d be a laughing stock.
He dressed easily, popping his cowboy boots over his jeans and tucking his black button up into the tight pants. He took a small glance at his face in the bathroom mirror. Without the large, floor to ceiling mirror (that he’d accidentally broken in a fit of rage after Mandy had left), he had no real sense for what he looked like. But he assumed any amount of “trying” would work against him. Women could always tell when you tried too hard.
He drove his pickup truck to the roadhouse restaurant at 7:30 p.m. He had a sense that everyone was watching him as he drove, their eyes skirting over his suspiciously. “Tom doesn’t normally go into town at night,” one of them was surely saying. “I wonder if he’s up to something.”
He stabbed his truck into a parking spot and sat, breathing evenly, before tapping his cowboy hat back on his head. It completed his uniform as cowboy1. He had to fill the picture she had of him in her mind.
The hostess greeted him with bright eyes. “Tom. We don’t normally see you around here on this kind of night. Can I grab you a seat at the bar?” She lifted a single menu from its holder, giving him a broad grin. The girl was nearly 17, he knew, and still had gleaming braces.
“Actually, Kim, I’d like a seat at a proper table. With a candle, and two menus,” Tom said. He tried to stifle his apparent glee as he spoke, but it bled through. His words lifted high with happiness.
“Huh,” Kim said, tilting her weight. Confusion sputtered across her face. “All right! Follow me.” Ever professional, Kim swept toward one of the center tables in the roadhouse restaurant, expecting Tom to follow. And as he did, he realized that he was, in essence, marching to a kind of deathbed. He knew nearly everyone around him. They were crouched over their plates, munching, spitting words to their wives. They turned their dull eyes toward him and muttered: “Oh hey there, Tom.” They watched as the hostess sat him at a very date-like table, lighting a candle that bounced light from his rugged face.
The confusion made the air tense. Tom heard a man he’d gone to high school with sneer at his wife. “Whoever he’s meeting will just leave him again, the poor sucker.”
Tom felt his heart squeeze in his chest, but he focused, ordering a Bud from his server and noting that if he kept his menu tapped on the table, his hands didn’t shake so much. As the minutes ticked closer to 8 p.m., he dreaded she wouldn’t arrive. He’d eat his steak in peace, and then he’d never leave his home again.
But at that moment, as if on cue, the stunning Nicole entered the restaurant. Tom was instantly captivated. Her long, black dress was cut low, exhibiting round, gleaming breasts. And her ass lifted high, giving her waist a stunning, slim contrast to her curves. Her hair hung in ringlets around her face, and her eyes were bright, nervous. He realized she probably hadn’t been on a date in years, either.
He rose from his seat and stood, waiting, his cowboy boots spread far apart. Her eyes connected with his. Her jaw nearly dropped open with shock. But she turned her heels toward him, walking with confidence, with the swagger of a woman who had slept with many men.
Of course, the people surrounding Tom had suddenly picked up on her arrival. He heard several of them dropping forks, speechless and suddenly without interest in BBQ. “Do you think he’s the one?” a man he knew whispered harshly. “He’s the 50,000 bucks bidder?”
“I didn’t realize his farm was doing so well,” another woman spewed angrily. “He should really give more to church.”
“He doesn’t go to church, Marcia. It’s obvious. He’s bidding for someone’s virginity. He doesn’t give a damn about God.”
Both Nicole and Tom knew that the air was spinning with talk of them. And for that reason, they kept close eye contact, not allowing the other to search around, to see the evil that lurked. As she walked toward him, her face turned more and more red. But her lips were taut, tight together, as if opening them would emit terrible, horrible, if truthful things about her peers.
Just before she reached his table, Tom erupted from his seat and churned the other chair from the table, like a gentleman. Nicole looked at him curiously, eyeing the empty chair and his hand upon it.
“Tom,” she finally said, her voice soft. “I didn’t know it was you.” Her eyes searched his face, and the moment was suddenly intimate. The voices of the peers fell away, and the world spun only for them.
Tom gestured toward the seat, bowing his head. His tongue clucked, but he couldn’t find the proper words to say. Thankfully, in just a moment more, she sat down in the chair and tucked herself in, her eyes toward the wall.
They were doing this, Tom reminded himself. This was a proper date. He tried to stifle the final words in his brain, reminding him that he’d paid an incomprehensible amount for this. It didn’t matter anymore.
“So,” Tom began, quaking back to his chair. “I would have gotten you something to drink, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted something a bit classier than a Bud this time around.”
Her smile was so bright, so easy. “I might have some wine, actually,” she murmured, glancing at the menu. “I was thinking about becoming a wine expert, now that I can drink.”
“Who was stopping you before?” Tom inquired.
“I suppose just my internal sense of judgment,” she said. “So sure I had to follow the word of God, from my clothes to what I drank to what I did without my clothes on.” Her eyes flashed.
Tom’s eyebrows rose high. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple catching. In that moment, the server arrived back, her notebook lifted. “Can I get you something to drink, Nicole?" the girl asked.
“Oh, yes,” Nicole said, turning toward her. “I’d like to try a red wine. But I don’t know which kind.”
The server began to walk Nicole through the various Merlots and Cabernet Sauvignons and Malbecs, and Tom allowed himself to dive into waves of panic, suddenly sure that she thought he was disgusting, that she would quit her job delivering his groceries and she’d never see him again. But after she chose a Malbec, and after the server swept it onto their table, Nicole turned toward him with her glass lifted.
“What do you say we cheers to this?” she asked, her voice high.
Grateful, Tom lifted his beer to her glass and clinked it. “Cheers to you. Thanks for letting me take you out.”
“Thanks for paying me,” Nicole said coolly. She set the glass back on the tablecloth, easing her hands across her lap. “I suppose that means we should talk specifics, huh?”
Tom tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”
“About when we’re going to actually do it. The deed.”
Tom understood, then. This was mathematical to her. She had sold a service, and she was going to deliver it succinctly, easily, and then move on with her life. He scratched at his scraggly beard, at his strong jawline, and he gazed at her—trying to find the right words.
“I have most nights free this week,” Nicole began once more. “I could maybe do Sunday night.”
“The day of our Lord?” Tom teased. He yearned to lighten the mood and take Nicole’s brain from the stress of this first step into her sexuality. The tension was palpable.
“Not for me anymore,” Nicole said, easing into a bit of laughter. Tom’s heart felt light. “I wouldn’t set my feet back in that church if my life depended on it. Not until my father apologizes—" She trailed off, looking down at her hands.
“That guy is an asshole,” Tom said, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s not think about him while we eat this dinner. It’ll upset my stomach.”
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Nicole grinned at him, joy flicking through her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit nervous,” she murmured.
“So am I,” Tom whispered, leaning close. “About what I’m going to order, that is. Do you recommend the 8-ounce or the 10-ounce steak? They seem so similar, but so different.” He winked at her.
“I think go big or go home,” Nicole laughed. She sipped her wine, looking at him curiously. “So you don’t want to decide when we’re going to seal the deal, so to speak?”
“I think we should wait. Maybe get to know each other better. You’ve been working for me for far too long for me to not know you prefer wine over beer,” Tom said.
“Your choice, then,” she said, easing. It was clear that his admittance that they could push back the actual “event” had immediately calmed her mind. Tom thought that as long as he could spend evenings like this with her, giggling over menus and eyeing each other brightly, he didn’t really mind if they didn’t sleep together for a while. This was quelling his deep, engrained loneliness. He felt 10 years younger.
They ordered steaks with French fries after a bit of squabbling. Nicole insisted she should have the salad, but Tom shook his head, telling her that he wouldn’t be seen on a date with any girl who ordered greens. Nicole laughed at that, tossing her curled hair. “Thank God. Because I was just trying to impress you.”
“You don’t need to impress me. I think you’re gorgeous,” Tom said, lowering his eyes. “And I think salads are a waste of time.”
“Me too,” Nicole whispered, giggling.
The pair ordered another round of drinks. Tom felt that he was drinking too quickly. Nerves shot his hand upward, lifting his beer for round after round, second after second. But he found that the bubbles were fueling him with confidence. He was clearing the way for their initial friendship—something that seemed to sparkle with slight romance. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up.
Their food came on steaming plates, and they dug in heartily. Tom was thrilled to see that Nicole ate heartily, much like he did, with the hunger of a farmer. When he’d gone to eat with Mandy, he’d hated the way she’d picked at her plate, lifting her fork only slightly to don a piece of spinach here, an onion there. He’d urged her to eat the expensive meals he’d purchased, but she’d just shaken her head sadly, as if he didn’t understand her. He supposed, on many levels, he didn’t.
“You know, I didn’t expect that I’d know the person I went on a date with,” Nicole began then. “I expected you’d be some creep from outside of town who just so happened to be at the fair that day.” She shuddered.
“I think several of those kinds of creeps bid, to be honest,” Tom said gruffly. He remembered the men he’d seen there, leering at her body. He imagined the things they said about her: tortured, disgusting things. If not for Mandy and some kind of internal optimism, he probably could turn into one of those men. Alone for good. “But I couldn’t let them win.”
“You’re a competitive man,” Nicole said, her voice flirty. “I see that now.”
“See, we’re already getting to know each other,” Tom teased.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Nicole said, stabbing her fork through the air. “Just because you’re good looking, doesn’t mean you can walk all over me.”
Tom grinned at her, his heart pummeling in his chest. He recognized happiness as a foreign flooding of his chest, his arms, his legs. He hadn’t felt it in years. After nearly an hour of laughter and rich conversation later, they finished their dinners, and the server slapped the bill upon the table. Tom lifted it and watched as Nicole fidgeted, eyeing him.
“I’ve got this,” Tom said, assuring her. “Don’t even think about it.”
Nicole gave him another warm smile, flipping her curls. “I’m going to run outside for a moment and grab something from my car. I’ll meet you there?”
“Sure,” Tom affirmed, his heart fluttering. “I’ll see you.”
7
Nicole kept her cool as she sauntered out of the restaurant, allowing her ass to swerve left and right, like a model on a catwalk. She knew everyone eyed her curves, assessed her breasts as she parted from the crowd. Despite her initial embarrassment when she’d entered the restaurant and felt the terrible gaze of dozens of townspeople, she was now brimming with wine and sexual energy and didn’t have a single care. She had earned the right to feel privileged and gawked at.
Fresh outside, she realized Tom’s warm eyes had filled her with a sense of longing that she was unaccustomed to, that filled her with confusion. She ripped into the parking lot, her heels scuttling on the pavement, and she lifted her phone to her ear. She dialed Chrissy’s number quickly, hardly able to believe that Tom wanted her enough to bid 50,000 dollars on her. He’d yearned for her body that much. Had anybody ever wanted anyone that much?
Chrissy answered it almost instantly. “I’ve literally been waiting by the phone,” she said, breathless. “What’s going on? Did you fuck? Who is he?”
Nicole giggled, her eyes passing over the Texas horizon. She slid her finger over her left eyebrow, straightening the hairs. “Chrissy, I can’t believe it. I really can’t. It’s Tom.”
“Sexy Tom?” Chrissy squealed. “The one you deliver groceries to?”
“The very one,” Nicole laughed. “I can’t believe it, either. I walked in, and there he was. He even pulled out the chair for me, like a gentleman. I mean, I haven’t seen anybody do that outside of the movies. We ordered steak and he almost forced me to get French fries. Like—he gets me, Chrissy. He said salad was a waste of time.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Chrissy said, her voice still excited. “I can hear you swooning over the phone just over this talk of French fries. What’s happening now? Are you going back to his place?”
“He says we should wait to get to know each other before we do anything, actually,” Nicole admitted, biting her lip. She sensed that this would cool Chrissy down and disappoint her. And sure enough: Chrissy didn’t answer on the other line. After a pause, Nicole pushed forward, her heart beating quickly. “Which I think is really responsible and friendly. He knows that I’m nervous about this 'losing my virginity' thing. He’s not going to take advantage of it.”
“Just be careful, Nicole,” Chrissy interrupted. “Remember that you’re doing this for one reason, and one reason only. You’re going to get 50,000 dollars out of this. No matter how much he tries to cozy up to you and tell you you’re important and that you’re different than other girls, remember to keep your eyes on your future. You want to go to college with that cash. You want to get me out of here, too. We’re going to start a life elsewhere.” Her voice was stern, almost like a mother’s.
Nicole swallowed, feeling the weight of her decisions upon her shoulders. But she closed her eyes, finding the proper words. She couldn’t let Chrissy down, just over a crush. Life was so much bigger than that. “I know what you’re saying. I’ll make sure I get the money before I have sex with him, and then I’ll make a quick exit just after it’s over.”
“Good. That’s right. Don’t catch yourself cuddling him for even a moment,” Chrissy teased, her voice energetic once more. She was counting on her friend, wholly. “I’m sorry to be harsh with you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt in all of this. You’ve already had quite a hard year. And love is one of the most complicated feelings of all.”
“It’s literally what ripped my family in half, in case you forgot,” Nicole whispered.
“That wasn’t love, Nicole,” Chrissy affirmed. “Remember that. Your dad was just fucking for pleasure. Just like you’re going to do. Just like all of us do, at some point. But we can’t let it destroy us. Okay?”
“Okay.” Nicole hung up the phone after a brief goodbye, her brain humming with what Chrissy had said. She scratched at her cheek, feeling a bit of the makeup come off on her nail. She gazed at the powder, remembering that she hadn’t worn makeup prior to this “lifestyle” change—and that it was one of the mess
ier, uglier sides of being a dating female.
Tom was attractive, funny, perfectly pleasant—and, above everything, lonely. The reality of this hit her hard. Nicole reminded herself that Chrissy couldn’t possibly understand the spice and spark between them. After all: she hadn’t been around for dinner. But as she spun back toward the restaurant, she was set on telling Tom that she’d had a lovely time, but that she had better go home for the night. It was the responsible thing to do.
In that moment, Tom stepped from the restaurant, tapping his cowboy boot on the sidewalk. His long, muscled legs were bursting from his jeans, and his thin, cut abdomen shone through his black, buttoned shirt. Nicole felt her pussy grow wet—a feeling she’d begun to get accustomed to in the previous weeks, since she’d allowed herself to daydream about sex. She cleared her throat, unable to speak.
“Are you ready to go?” Tom finally asked her, readjusting his cowboy hat on his head. “Because I have to get away from those people. They won’t stop coming up to me and asking me about you. How it went, how I could afford the 50,000 dollars—all of it.” He shook his head, his eyes gleaming. “This town knows too much for its own good.”
“I hope you told them it was none of their business,” Nicole said in a fake, snotty voice.
“I absolutely did,” Tom said. He lifted his elbow to her, and she accepted it, forgetting that she’d meant to drive herself home. How quickly she rushed to his side, she thought.
“Listen. I know it’s getting late, and we’re not going to seal this deal tonight or anything. But I wondered if you might want to go for a drive with me,” he said, his eyes far away, toward the horizon.
“Where to?” Nicole asked after a pause.
“It’s kind of a secret place. It’s a place I like to go by myself and think.”
“Sounds terribly boring,” Nicole teased. “Which is perfect for me. Let’s go.”