bored, so I decided to fuck with him. I really wanted Joseph and Miranda Sloth to have something to gossip about later. It sounded like they lived a pretty boring life and needed a horror dating story to spice it up. If I wasn’t getting laid, I might as well have a laugh. “Yeah. But it’s okay. My new mommy is, like, totally the best,” I said with wide eyes and faked enthusiasm. “One of my old foster dads married a stripper named Jingles.”
Joseph blanched. “J-jingles?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied with a bored wave of my hand. “She has her nipples pierced and likes to put bells on them. Every time she shimmies, it sounds like fucking Christmas.”
Joseph started looking around the restaurant for our waiter. I continued. “Jingles is great, though. She’s switching careers and is trying to be a tattoo artist. I’m letting her practice on me. I currently have a half-decent portrait of Chris Hemsworth on my ass. Every time I twerk, it’s like he’s having a seizure.”
Joseph coughed and looked around. Yep. Now go ahead and excuse yourself to the bathroom and never return. I smiled widely at him, hoping I looked as much the maniac I tried to come across as. “Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed. “We should get matching tattoos. I’ll call Jingles now. Something fun to celebrate the first of many dates. Maybe a plate of spaghetti on our cheek?”
“I-I have to go to the restroom,” Joseph exclaimed before standing up. His chair nearly toppled over as he rushed to the complete opposite side of the restaurant toward the door.
“Byeeee, Joseph,” I said while waving my fingers with a smirk, not that he even looked. The waiter brought both our plates, and I eyed the salad with disgust before grabbing his whopping serving of lasagna. I shoveled pasta in my mouth while pouring his nearly full wine glass into mine and celebrating this night’s turn of events. I always preferred my own company to that of a man’s. I gave myself better orgasms and laughed louder at my own jokes. I was a firm believer that you needed to be in a relationship with yourself before you could love anyone else, and I’d been steadily dating my fine ass since that eighth-grade dance seventeen years ago.
I was pretty enough. I stayed in shape by taking cycling classes. (My instructor was ridiculously hot, and the only reason I worked out was to stare at his fine ass for an hour.) I had long brown hair with natural waves, hazel eyes, and long legs. I had a kick ass job making good money and could suck cock like my life depended on it. So why was it so hard to find someone at my level?
“Would you like more wine?” the waiter asked while eyeing me. He was a tall college dude that filled out his suit nicely. His eyes twinkled as I licked my fingers. He had dark hair, a sharp jaw you could cut glass with, and broad shoulders. Oh, and a face I totally could see myself riding.
“Absolutely.”
I must have looked like a hot mess eating garlic bread and lasagna by myself, but as long as the wine kept coming, I didn’t really care. Especially if Mr. Broad Shoulders kept bringing it. He set the fresh glass of pinot in front of me just after I had taken an impressively large bite of lasagna. Typical. I did the awkward hand-over-my-mouth thing as I smiled and nodded to show my appreciation. He gave me a devilish grin and winked as he walked away. I knew they did that on purpose.
I lifted the glass to my lips and noticed something scrawled on the napkin.
Meet me in the alley?
I thought it over for all of two seconds before deciding to go for it. I probably shouldn’t be meeting strange men in alleys after dark, but maybe a quick make out session with my waiter could make up for the first half of the night with Joseph Sloth. I did shave, after all. Might as well enjoy my smooth legs while I can. It was rare that I put forth the effort.
I left some cash on the table to cover the bill. He was about to get his tip in the alley, and then hopefully I would be getting his tip. I grabbed a mint from the bowl by the door—he knew I was eating garlic bread when he so elegantly invited me to join him, but