Kissed her! Put his mouth on hers, the arrogant, miserable son of a bitch….
His firm mouth. His soft mouth. His mouth that was, any woman could tell, made for long, deep kisses…
God, she was in bad shape. Anger, adrenaline, whatever you called it, was pumping through her veins. She was completely stressed out.
A man
would know what to do to ease such stress.
He’d go to a gym and sweat it out. Actually that would work for her, too, but her gym, a gym for women, was closed. Hey, it was Saturday. Date night for the fairer sex, right?
“Such crap,” Aimee said.
She could almost feel the steam coming out of her ears.
Or a man would call up his buddies, meet them someplace crowded and noisy and guzzle beer. That’s what men under pressure did, didn’t they? Go out, drink, talk about stupid things, pick up women?
Sex was the great relaxer. Everybody said so. Okay, not her because she’d had sex and it had been far from memorable but according to everything she’d read, sex could lower your stress levels every time.
Aimee snorted.
Imagine if a woman did that. Called a friend, went someplace loud to drink and looked for a guy to pick up. Went to bed with him, no strings, no ridiculous exchange of names and phone numbers. Just bed.
Just sex.
Of course, some women did. They went looking for sex.
Sex with a stranger. A stranger with dark hair. Blue eyes. A square jaw, straight nose, firm mouth. And that little accent…
The phone rang. Let it. Her voice mail could take the call.
Hi, her recorded voice said briskly. You’ve reached 555-6145. Please leave a message after the tone.
“Aimee, it’s Jen.”
The last person she wanted to talk to! Jen had taken a job with Fox and Curtrain after Aimee pointed her toward it.
“I’m not going to take it,” she’d said, “so why shouldn’t you?”
Why, indeed?
“Aimee, look, I know this isn’t your thing but a new club opened right near me and it’s supposed to draw a hot crowd. And it’s Laura’s birthday, remember her, from the second floor in our dorm? She’s in town and a bunch of us are getting together to, you know, check out the club…” There was giggling in the background and Aimee rolled her eyes. “Okay, Laura’s right. To check out the guys, see if they’re as hunky as everybody says.”
“Jen?” Aimee said, picking up the phone.
“Oh, you’re there! Listen, I don’t know what you’re doing tonight, but—”
“I’m not doing anything. I’ve had—it’s been one of those days, you know?”
“All the more reason to go with us. Have a drink, listen to some hot music—”
“Get picked up by some hot guy,” a female voice in the background said, to another round of giggles.
“That’s the last thing I need,” Aimee said. “I mean, is that all I’m good for? To go to a club where the music’s so loud I won’t be able to think? To let a guy pick me up, buy me a drink—”
“Yeah. I know. It’s a meat market out there—but sometimes, well, sometimes that can be fun. You know. No BS. Just an evening of fun and games.”
“It’s bad enough men think that’s what we’re all about. That we’re useless except in the kitchen or the bedroom. We don’t have to play into their stupid fantasy.”