My brother was precious to me. My best friend, my biggest cheerleader. And he came first. Always and forever. I had yet to find a guy who understood that. A guy who could put his own needs aside to support me once in awhile. So I said goodbye to being a girlfriend and embraced sluthood fully. And never looked back.
But I was a responsible slut. One who had strict rules for one night stands. Use protection, obviously. I was on the pill and always had condoms in my purse. Never go down on a guy unless he went down on me first. You could tell a lot about a guy by his expectations of foreplay. The guys who weren’t interested in my orgasm were ones that didn’t get the pleasure of experiencing theirs with me. I didn’t do selfish sex. And last, but not least, I never went to their house and never, ever stayed the night, no matter where we were. I was very much a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am and damn proud of it. It was a policy that worked out well, though I still joked with my fellow slut, Maya, that we should get a commission from the hotel for how much extra business we gave them.
For the most part, there was nothing better than a round of good sex to end your evening, but tonight just wasn’t the night. I caught Maya’s gaze as she was taking orders at the other end of the bar. With one single raised eyebrow, I could tell she was feeling as bored as I was, though she angled her head towards a guy in the corner indicating that she definitely wasn’t going to end her night bored. She wasn’t as strict as I was with her one night stands, when she made them book a room at the hotel it was because she wanted to stay at a five star hotel and order something off the room service menu.
“Lawyer?” I asked when she came back to my side of the bar. The guy was wearing an expensive black suit, probably handmade, maybe Italian. That meant money. In Los Angeles that could mean lots of things, but despite the obvious quality, it was still a pretty simple, serviceable suit, which usually was reserved for attorneys.
“Good guess,” she leaned down to grab a bottle of seltzer. “Agent.”
I let out a whistle. “Suite or penthouse?”
“Suite,” she pulled back the collar of her shirt to show me the room key tucked into her bra strap. “He’s only a junior agent. But I’m still ordering the waffles.”
“You’re obsessed with those waffles,” I poked her side playfully. “How many times have you had them this month?”
She gave me a naughty smile. “Four.”
“Damn girl,” I whistled, giving her a once over, though I knew I’d never see any evidence of those waffles on her rail thin body. Though she was blessed with a supermodel’s metabolism, Maya was also kind of obsessed with fitness and ran marathons like they were going out of business. She was always trying to get me to join, but the only kind of exercise I was interested in was the kind that ended with an orgasm.
“You don’t even know, Nicole,” Maya licked her lips. “I don’t think there’s anything better in life than great sex followed by these waffles. They are smothered in dulce de leche, topped with vanilla ice cream.”
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it,” I interrupted, not interested in watching her get orgasmic over these waffles. Again. Between the waffles and her juice, she was obsessed. Besides, getting a guy to order room service was definitely not my thing. I didn’t have time to linger after sex and I didn’t want any of the guys I slept with to get the wrong idea. I couldn’t risk them getting attached and I’d had too many close calls lately – men were so sensitive these days.
I glanced back at Mr. Gin-and-Tonic, who was still casting fervent glances in my direction. And not “ooooh baby, the things I would do to you” kind of glances. The “you seem like a nice girl, maybe my mom would like you” kind of glances. Yeah, he was totally a long-term kind of guy and I was not that kind of girl. At all. Not anymore.
“What about you?” Maya glanced around the bar, which was only about one third full. Slim pickings and she had definitely snagged the best option. Mr. Junior Agent was watching her with a gleam in his eye. A very specific kind of gleam. One that promised sex. And waffles. And never calling again. “Anyone catch your eye?”
“Not tonight.” I turned my back on Mr. Gin-and-Tonic. Definitely relationship material. Definitely not for me.
“Really?” Maya frowned. “No one?”
“They all scream commitment,” I told her. “I’m on a bad luck streak,” I crossed my arms. “The last two guys practically begged me for my number afterwards.”
She grimaced. “Ugh. Let’s hope my agent doesn’t want to talk about his feelings.”
“What is with guys these days?” I asked. “It seems like half of them think that when I say ‘one night stand’ I really mean ‘but secretly, I want to be your girlfriend’.”
“And they accuse our gender of being the clingy one.” Maya rolled her eyes. “Remember when that guy kept sending flowers to the bar?”
“Peony Pete!” I laughed. “How could I forget? He did not know how to take no for an answer.”
“I know!” Maya giggled. “I know I’m hot, but come on!”
“I would have sent you roses,” I told her.
“That’s because you’re a classy broad.”
“The classiest!” I readily agreed and then sighed. “Why is a good one night stand so hard to find?”
“You’d think it’d be a piece of cake in Los Angeles,” Maya shrugged. “Guess we’re just looking in the wrong place.”
“Not according to my mom,” I told her. My mom was a tabloid junkie and according to them, all the men in Los Angeles were cheating on their wives. I kept trying to tell her that she couldn’t judge the entire population of a city on the actions of a few philandering celebrities, but she was still deeply concerned for my honor. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that my honor was long gone. That it took off around the first time that she did. But I was doing my best not to bring that up. We were starting over. She was trying. I was trying. Which meant humoring her, a lot. “My mom is convinced I’m surrounded by manwhores.”
“I wish!” Maya exclaimed. “I thought becoming a bartender would guarantee an endless supply of men with commitment issues.”
“Me too,” I shook my head. “I guess we should have specified the kind of commitment issues we were looking for. Namely, the not-interested-in-it kind.”
“Men,” Maya sighed.
“Seriously,” I lifted my hands. “Where’s a good manwhore when you need one?”
Hours later, after Maya went upstairs with her man-of-the-evening, I went home to where my brother was parked in front of the TV, watching the 2013 Doctor Who Christmas Special.
“Hey, buddy,” I ruffled his hair as I passed by to drop my purse off on the kitchen table.
“Twelve,” he pointed at the screen.
“Oh, is this the first time he shows up?” I asked innocently. I was referring to the twelfth incarnation of the Doctor, who was Mikey’s second favorite. Or at least he had been last week. The list changed on a daily basis.
Mikey turned around and let out an enormous sigh. I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile.
“50th Anniversary Special,” he reminded me, even though I knew. You didn’t live with Mikey and not know the exact moment a new Doctor was introduced, even if it was only for a brief second.
“Want to help me make some cheesy noodles?” It was our little routine. Even though it was almost 2am, I was usually pretty hungry after my shift and sometimes this was the only time I got to have something resembling dinner with my brother.
He nodded and even though he kept one eye at the screen, he came into the kitchen. Cheesy noodles was our version of mac and cheese, with two boxes of noodles and one packet of cheese. Sometimes if I had a good week tip-wise, I could throw in some chopped up hot dogs. Unfortunately, tonight we had to go hot dog-less. But Mikey didn’t seem to notice, his eyes on the screen as I heated a pot of water on the stove.
“What’s the list today?” I asked him. “Any changes?”
He glanced back at me and I noticed there
was a hole near the collar of his t-shirt. I made a mental note to snag it from the laundry bin so I could mend it before washing it. It had been a lucky find at Goodwill, with a big picture of the TARDIS on the front, and Mikey loved it.
He was furrowing his brow at me, mentally cataloguing the Doctors. Every night he would list his favorites in order. Though a few of them remained constant, sometimes there was a surprise or two.
“Ten,” he started with, which was not unusual. David Tennent had been the top ranking Doctor for a while now. Mikey had even asked for a version of his coat for Christmas. I knew they sold it online, but I was hoping I could find a pattern and make it myself. Luckily I still had a few months – Mikey liked to get his requests in early. He seemed to understand that this Santa often needed a little time to plan. “Twelve. Four. Eleven. One. Nine. Six. Two. Eight. Three. Five. Seven.”
“One is really moving up the list,” I noted, pouring the noodles into the now boiling water.
“He’s the first,” Mikey explained. “He’s important.”
“That’s true,” I grabbed a wooden spoon. “Want to stir?”
He took it and stirred the pot carefully, while quietly humming the Doctor Who theme song. I hummed it back at him and then incorporated some “bum bum bum”s. Without even missing a beat, he added an enthusiastic “oooo wa wa”. I smiled at the back of his head. We were getting pretty good at it. Things like that kept me from taking my day too seriously. What would I do without him?
“Looks like I’m going to have a day off next week,” I told him. “Want to go to the movies?”
“Mmm.” He was now focused completely on the pot of noodles.
“It’s that zombie one.” I tried to remember the name. “26 Days?”
“28 Days,” Mikey corrected. “Nine. Ok.”
Nine meant that the actor playing the ninth doctor was in it. And even though Nine was only ranked #6, I was glad he was interested in going to the movie.
I pulled out my phone and looked up the schedule for our local, cheapo movie theater. They didn’t play any new releases, instead doing themed months with older movies. Zombies were this month’s theme. I liked it because I could get him popcorn and a soda for only $5.
“There’s one next Thursday at 3:00pm.” I could probably do our laundry first thing in the morning and be home in time to have lunch with Mikey and then go to the movies. My days off were always our special day and I tried to get all my other things done early so I had time to spend with him.
“Ok.” His attention was focused on the pot boiling on the stove.
“Do you think they’re done?” I asked him.
“They look squishy,” he observed.
“They do,” I agreed. “Let’s get them out of the water and into the cheese!”
He giggled. “Into the cheese!”
I drained the noodles and emptied a packet of cheese into the bowl. Mikey stirred it for me and I divided our dinner into two bowls. Following my brother, I went into the living room with him and we took a seat on the couch. I handed him the remote.
“Tell me what’s happening,” I said, even though I had seen this episode half a dozen times. But Mikey’s recaps were always the best.
I leaned back in the couch as he launched into his description of the episode. While he told me all about Trenzalore and the logistics of Time Lord regeneration, I ate my cheesy noodles and felt completely and utterly at peace.
Man Candy Page 22