note in front of me,” he said. “I’ve saved it. Maybe I should read it to you.”
“I know what I wrote, Chance. There’s no need for you to read it to me. So, I have to ask—why are you calling?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not yet.”
“Then let me clear it up for you. I want to see you again. The second note you wrote was all about throwing up barriers. So, meet me tonight for dinner, and let me tear those barriers down.”
“There’s no tearing them down.”
“I think there is.”
“To what end?”
He didn’t answer, but whatever he was thinking didn’t matter because I already knew that I wanted to see him again. My aunt was in my head, urging me on. Take a lover. Have some fun. But when you finally do get your game on and hook up with a man, don’t get all emotional about it, OK? Just do him, enjoy it, and move on to the next one until you find the right one—if that’s possible. It hasn’t exactly worked out that way for me, but who knows? Maybe someday it will. I am, after all, nothing if not an eternal optimist.
Just talking with him now and hearing his voice was enough for me to want to have sex with him again. I wanted him to take me where he’d taken me the night before. Soon, he’d be off to the next city and he’d forget about me. I’d move forward with my life, just as the other women who’d slept with him had. So, why not have a second-night stand? Why not pull an Aunt Marion and continue to live?
Because it’s dangerous.
Maybe I need some danger in my life. Maybe it’s time for some danger.
But at what cost?
I ignored my inner voice, and pressed forward.
“If I agree to meet with you tonight, you need to know that this will be it between us. Just one more night—that’s all it will be. I want to be very clear with you about that so that you don’t think that I’m leading you on. Tonight will be it.”
“Why does it have to be it?”
“Because you don’t live here.”
“That suite at The Plaza is reserved for me for a reason. I come here often.”
“That’s not good enough. I don’t do long-distance anything, even if it’s just for a hook-up. Because, before you—like I’ve already told you—I didn’t do one-night stands. You’re my first, and you likely will be my last for a while. So, if you want to have dinner and then go back to your place knowing that, I’m fine with that. We can enjoy each other again, and then we can just walk away without a connection and without worries. If that works for you, then I’ll meet you tonight for dinner.”
It was a moment before he spoke, and in that moment, I wondered if I’d been too brazen with him. But I decided it didn’t really matter if I had. At the very least, I’d been honest with him. Either he agreed to the terms and went into tonight knowing that there wouldn’t be a third time, or last night was it.
“You think that we can just walk away without a connection?”
“I do.”
“And I don’t believe you. But whatever. All right—dinner works. Do you have anywhere in particular in mind that you’d like to go to dinner? Nobu? Le Bernardin? Per Se…?”
“Seriously?” I said.
“You don’t like those restaurants? All of them have Michelin stars.”
“Chance, I’ve never been to those restaurants because I can’t afford to go to those kinds of restaurants. And even if I could, it seems like a waste of money to me. For you, probably not so much. Besides, I’m not a five-star-restaurant kind of girl, anyway. So, how about if we take it down several notches?”
“That’s fine. But what kind of restaurant girl are you?”
“A burger-and-fries kind of girl.”
“Really?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I guess I’m not used to that.”
“What are you used to?”
“I think you misunderstood me. My preference is equally low-key. But others tend to expect something more from
“I know what I wrote, Chance. There’s no need for you to read it to me. So, I have to ask—why are you calling?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not yet.”
“Then let me clear it up for you. I want to see you again. The second note you wrote was all about throwing up barriers. So, meet me tonight for dinner, and let me tear those barriers down.”
“There’s no tearing them down.”
“I think there is.”
“To what end?”
He didn’t answer, but whatever he was thinking didn’t matter because I already knew that I wanted to see him again. My aunt was in my head, urging me on. Take a lover. Have some fun. But when you finally do get your game on and hook up with a man, don’t get all emotional about it, OK? Just do him, enjoy it, and move on to the next one until you find the right one—if that’s possible. It hasn’t exactly worked out that way for me, but who knows? Maybe someday it will. I am, after all, nothing if not an eternal optimist.
Just talking with him now and hearing his voice was enough for me to want to have sex with him again. I wanted him to take me where he’d taken me the night before. Soon, he’d be off to the next city and he’d forget about me. I’d move forward with my life, just as the other women who’d slept with him had. So, why not have a second-night stand? Why not pull an Aunt Marion and continue to live?
Because it’s dangerous.
Maybe I need some danger in my life. Maybe it’s time for some danger.
But at what cost?
I ignored my inner voice, and pressed forward.
“If I agree to meet with you tonight, you need to know that this will be it between us. Just one more night—that’s all it will be. I want to be very clear with you about that so that you don’t think that I’m leading you on. Tonight will be it.”
“Why does it have to be it?”
“Because you don’t live here.”
“That suite at The Plaza is reserved for me for a reason. I come here often.”
“That’s not good enough. I don’t do long-distance anything, even if it’s just for a hook-up. Because, before you—like I’ve already told you—I didn’t do one-night stands. You’re my first, and you likely will be my last for a while. So, if you want to have dinner and then go back to your place knowing that, I’m fine with that. We can enjoy each other again, and then we can just walk away without a connection and without worries. If that works for you, then I’ll meet you tonight for dinner.”
It was a moment before he spoke, and in that moment, I wondered if I’d been too brazen with him. But I decided it didn’t really matter if I had. At the very least, I’d been honest with him. Either he agreed to the terms and went into tonight knowing that there wouldn’t be a third time, or last night was it.
“You think that we can just walk away without a connection?”
“I do.”
“And I don’t believe you. But whatever. All right—dinner works. Do you have anywhere in particular in mind that you’d like to go to dinner? Nobu? Le Bernardin? Per Se…?”
“Seriously?” I said.
“You don’t like those restaurants? All of them have Michelin stars.”
“Chance, I’ve never been to those restaurants because I can’t afford to go to those kinds of restaurants. And even if I could, it seems like a waste of money to me. For you, probably not so much. Besides, I’m not a five-star-restaurant kind of girl, anyway. So, how about if we take it down several notches?”
“That’s fine. But what kind of restaurant girl are you?”
“A burger-and-fries kind of girl.”
“Really?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I guess I’m not used to that.”
“What are you used to?”
“I think you misunderstood me. My preference is equally low-key. But others tend to expect something more from
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