work was more important than a few dates that ended in the backseat of a parents borrowed station wagon with some guy's "well, that never happened before" all over my skirt.
Luna is the hopeless romantic, but I never expect some man to come and sweep me off my feet with grandiose romantic gestures. There are very few men like that in the world and if they exist they have long since been taken. Now, that's not to say I don't want romance. I very much do, hence why I am putting Pierce through the test. My romantic fantasy hero may not exist, but it doesn't mean I can't create him, given enough time and suitable raw materials.
As I look over at Mrs. Carver's red brick row home, I wonder how much Pierce is willing to become my hero. So far he is more than winning the role, but what happens when we see each other again? Will he have a change of heart? Will I? Or, even worse, will he become lazy like the men of my past and keep doing less and less for me, until I am sitting on a couch with him one day watching an episode of Game of Thrones and the most interaction we have with one another is when I say, "Ewww" and plug my nose to his farts.
Shaking my head I realize I need to focus on the present, I can't second guess something that hasn't even happened yet. So, I head upstairs to my bedroom to change into a perfect "you-want-me-but-can't-have-me" outfit.
After about fifteen minutes I am back outside with a touch of makeup, hair loose and flowing. I picked the navy butterfly cap sleeve blouse -- I love how it hints it might be sheer but isn't, at least in the strategically important areas -- paired with my favorite short cherry print flared skirt with red strappy heels. As I walk up to the door I do a quick check at myself in the window beside the door and am satisfied with my appearance. Placing my knuckles on the door I give it a few good taps.
After a few seconds the door opens and I am greeted with the person I long to see. My breath leaves my lungs for the second time this evening and all I can do is stare.
"Josephine, there you are." Pierce states as if I have been by his side the whole time, only to have stepped away for a few moments. His smile is breathtaking and those eyes shine like polished mahogany. He is even more tantalizing than I remember. For the first time in my life I am speechless and images of last week float behind my eyes as his poem plays in my head. I can feel my nipples harden and all I want to do is reach over and tear that dark grey pattern button up off his toned body.
Finally, my daze is broken as I hear Mrs. Carver yell from the background.
"Is that Jos, hon? Let her in please."
"Yes, Pierce, I do hope you let me in." I smirk noticing his eyes starting to darken. He steps back from the door and my skin shivers knowing his eyes are on me. I walk past to make my way into the living room.
The room is bright and airy, but has a homey touch. The couch is cream and plush but the furniture dark and a bit old fashioned, like something I would find in a friend's home growing up. There is a light blue Persian rug covering the dark wood flooring with light, sheer fabric draping the windows.
Mrs. Carver is placing some cheese and crackers on the coffee table as she looks up to notice me.
"Oh Jos, so glad you could come. I have been longing to introduce you to my boy. Pierce, come in here please, and stop staring at her it's rude."
I try to suppress a laugh and look to the floor as the giggles start to cross my lips.
"Mom, please!"
I look back at Pierce who has his hands over his face from embarrassment. His gaze punctures through as his fingers shift to watch me smiling at him. Lifting his hands and running them through his soft rich caramel hair I groan as that one movement from a man always sends me over the edge, he is no exception. He hears me; I know he does as I see his eyebrow cock up and a smile appear on his face.
Quickly I turn my head back to Mrs. Carver who is smiling at me in an
Luna is the hopeless romantic, but I never expect some man to come and sweep me off my feet with grandiose romantic gestures. There are very few men like that in the world and if they exist they have long since been taken. Now, that's not to say I don't want romance. I very much do, hence why I am putting Pierce through the test. My romantic fantasy hero may not exist, but it doesn't mean I can't create him, given enough time and suitable raw materials.
As I look over at Mrs. Carver's red brick row home, I wonder how much Pierce is willing to become my hero. So far he is more than winning the role, but what happens when we see each other again? Will he have a change of heart? Will I? Or, even worse, will he become lazy like the men of my past and keep doing less and less for me, until I am sitting on a couch with him one day watching an episode of Game of Thrones and the most interaction we have with one another is when I say, "Ewww" and plug my nose to his farts.
Shaking my head I realize I need to focus on the present, I can't second guess something that hasn't even happened yet. So, I head upstairs to my bedroom to change into a perfect "you-want-me-but-can't-have-me" outfit.
After about fifteen minutes I am back outside with a touch of makeup, hair loose and flowing. I picked the navy butterfly cap sleeve blouse -- I love how it hints it might be sheer but isn't, at least in the strategically important areas -- paired with my favorite short cherry print flared skirt with red strappy heels. As I walk up to the door I do a quick check at myself in the window beside the door and am satisfied with my appearance. Placing my knuckles on the door I give it a few good taps.
After a few seconds the door opens and I am greeted with the person I long to see. My breath leaves my lungs for the second time this evening and all I can do is stare.
"Josephine, there you are." Pierce states as if I have been by his side the whole time, only to have stepped away for a few moments. His smile is breathtaking and those eyes shine like polished mahogany. He is even more tantalizing than I remember. For the first time in my life I am speechless and images of last week float behind my eyes as his poem plays in my head. I can feel my nipples harden and all I want to do is reach over and tear that dark grey pattern button up off his toned body.
Finally, my daze is broken as I hear Mrs. Carver yell from the background.
"Is that Jos, hon? Let her in please."
"Yes, Pierce, I do hope you let me in." I smirk noticing his eyes starting to darken. He steps back from the door and my skin shivers knowing his eyes are on me. I walk past to make my way into the living room.
The room is bright and airy, but has a homey touch. The couch is cream and plush but the furniture dark and a bit old fashioned, like something I would find in a friend's home growing up. There is a light blue Persian rug covering the dark wood flooring with light, sheer fabric draping the windows.
Mrs. Carver is placing some cheese and crackers on the coffee table as she looks up to notice me.
"Oh Jos, so glad you could come. I have been longing to introduce you to my boy. Pierce, come in here please, and stop staring at her it's rude."
I try to suppress a laugh and look to the floor as the giggles start to cross my lips.
"Mom, please!"
I look back at Pierce who has his hands over his face from embarrassment. His gaze punctures through as his fingers shift to watch me smiling at him. Lifting his hands and running them through his soft rich caramel hair I groan as that one movement from a man always sends me over the edge, he is no exception. He hears me; I know he does as I see his eyebrow cock up and a smile appear on his face.
Quickly I turn my head back to Mrs. Carver who is smiling at me in an
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