Virgin Flyer

Jack: I’m about to cut into a perfectly cooked filet before meeting a beautiful man in an expensive hotel overlooking Lake Michigan. I think my quality of life is pretty damned good, Mills.

Millie: Grindr won’t grow old with you.

Jack: Who says?

The server approached my table to ask if I wanted another glass of wine. I shook my head with a smile of thanks. While I was generally both large and strong enough to hold my own with any man I met up with, I did make a point of not hooking up with strangers while under the influence, just in case. Falling asleep and waking up without any cash left in my wallet wasn’t a risk I wanted to take.

Millie: Kirk met a cute guy at work.

I took a bite of my steak and bit back a groan of satisfaction before typing my response.

Jack: Good for him. Tell him to hit me up if he needs any tips.

Millie: Shut up. He says you’d like him. The guy plays in an amateur hockey league and has a killer body.

Jack: Your husband needs a hobby.

Millie: His name is Jefferson Plenty. He reminds me of Ty.

I took a sip of my water. It wasn’t the first time my sister had threatened to set me up with someone, but I got the sense she was serious this time if she was invoking the name of my most serious relationship.

Jack: No thank you.

Millie: He volunteers with kids in one of those Big Brother deals.

I rolled my eyes. Of course he did.

Jack: Do-gooder. Ew.

Millie: WTF. You cook for your elderly neighbor.

I thought of Elaine Stickley next door who ate cold soup straight from the can. It gave me the willies.

Jack: It’s easier to cook for two than one. She just gets my leftovers.

Millie: Liar. You’re a do-gooder too. You weed Mom’s yard every time you visit.

Jack: Only because it’s embarrassing to see the state of her lawn.

Millie: And you weed the neighbor’s lawn too.

I sighed.

Jack: They’re all slackers. Gotta go. You’re getting on my nerves.

I put my phone down and focused on enjoying the rest of my meal. I overheard a couple arguing at a nearby table about what color to paint their dining room, and I thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have either a spouse or a dining room. My loft apartment in Newark was bright and clean with huge windows and an open-floor plan. The twenty-minute bus ride to the airport was even better. Hell, I’d lived in the unit four years already and still hadn’t put any art on the walls, much less thought about changing the wall color.

I finished my meal, paid the bill, and pulled on my heavy wool coat.

Dessert was waiting for me only a few blocks away.

3

Teo

I was terrified.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and I worried I was sweating enough to stink. Also, how long was a douche supposed to last before nerves negated the effects?

I shook my hands out and paced back and forth in the hotel room. I’d splurged on a nice room on a high floor with a gorgeous view of the river. Not that I could see much of it now that it was dark, but it had been pretty before the sun had gone down. Now it was mostly city lights.

I stopped pacing and pulled the curtains closed. No one needed to watch what was surely going to be an utter disaster. Another good reason I’d laid out the no-talking rule. It would hopefully prevent the man from asking what the hell my problem was. Also, I didn’t want him to ask about my experience or lack thereof. My hope was to… somehow cover up my virgin status by acting like I knew what I was doing.

I did not know what I was doing.

Thank goodness for Google. Thank goodness for porn. Hell, thank goodness for Grindr if I was being honest. No matter how much of a fool I made of myself tonight, I wouldn’t have to ever see the guy again and he’d never know my real name. I’d even locked my wallet and other personally identifying items in the hotel safe just in case.

Embarrassingly, I’d also texted Jay and told him where I was in case I was murdered and/or kidnapped. He’d asked me why I’d never used him as a wingman before, and I’d piled on more lies, saying I’d never needed backup until a bad experience the month before. Then, of course, he’d wanted to ask me all about my close call. I’d mumbled something about bad poppers and hung up.

I didn’t even know if guys used poppers anymore, and I sure as hell knew I was too much of a dork to be a popper user. Jay had probably immediately called Chris to ask him about my bad popper experience. Even now Chris could be trying to get ahold of me to make sure I was all right.