Dating Kosher (29 page)

I dropped my phone into my purse glancing at the clock on the stove. Bev would be calling me at exactly fourteen minutes after nine just to check in and save me if the date was a disaster. I was smart enough to make sure at least one person knew where I was on a first date with a guy I had just met; a girl couldn’t be too safe.

When I got to the lobby, I saw a car parked out front; a Beemer; black. I looked through the passenger window and there he sat, his hands on the wheel. He smiled at me but made no move to get out of the car and open my door for me.

Hmm, strike one for Ari.

It’s not that I expected a guy to constantly open doors or show up with flowers and candy to every date, but it would be nice to think that he was trying to impress me at least on the first one…

I opened the door and slid into the car, mindful of my short hem, making sure it didn’t bunch under my butt on the buttery leather seats.

“Hi,” I said, smiling at him.

He smiled back. “You look really hot. I’m so looking forward to the Outback, I almost never go there; most of my friends are kosher and won’t go.”

I thanked him as the butterflies in my stomach took flight. I hoped they’d settle down before they were drowned by a whole load of shrimp from the barbie. Ari’s friends may have been kosher, but Shoshanna ‘Shellfish-Lover Extraordinaire’ Rosenblatt was as far as one could get without renouncing her faith altogether.

“So, tell me about you. What do you do?” I figured it couldn’t hurt to follow the number one rule of dating: get the guy talking about himself.

He pulled away from the building fast enough to make my head snap. I was about to berate him when he turned to look at me, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry, it’s new and a little bit peppier than I’m used to. Do you like her? She cost me a fortune, but she’s a beauty.”

I just nodded.

Once he was up to a decent, but thankfully not neck-breaking, speed, he addressed my question. “Well, I went to school to be a lawyer.”

Oh, Dad will be so proud…

“But I became a bit disenfranchised with the field. I’m working at an ad firm right now.”

Disenfranchised? What did that mean? “Did you not want to be a lawyer anymore?”

He glanced over at me, blinking a few times before turning his attention back to the road. “Ever hear that joke, ‘what do you call a hundred lawyers at the bottom of a lake?”

I shook my head.

“A good start.”

Unable to help myself, I smiled. “Good one.”

“Lawyers are the scum of the earth, they are more useless than scum, they are disgusting bottom-feeders and I would never want to be one of them.”

For some reason, I felt I needed to tell him, “Er…my father is a lawyer.”

“Well…I…” he stumbled. “I just had a bad experience with lawyers before I finished school. It’s not personal.”

Sure, no insult is
ever
personal. I was beginning to think this guy wasn’t bright enough to be a lawyer. Maybe he failed the bar.

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Six minutes into the date and it was already going downhill. How had my stomach known before my brain did?

“Never mind. So what do you do for the ad firm?”

“Not much, ha ha ha.” At least he found himself amusing.

Oh God. What have I gotten into?

Dinner didn’t get much better. I drowned myself in the menu as long as I could: at least it gave me something to look at. Not that Ari was bad-looking, I just didn’t want to struggle to make conversation.

In the end, I ordered the coconut shrimp appetizer, a filet, and a monstrously huge martini; I was sure alcohol would be the only thing to get me through this dinner.

“Boy, for a skinny girl you sure seem to like a lot of food,” Ari said.

I just nodded and smiled.

“Do you work out a lot?” he asked.

“Most days before work. Although I haven’t done much lately what with my dad’s wedding and my cat getting sick…” I frowned: my absence from the gym was beginning to have a negative effect; even my most comfortable clothes were beginning to feel a bit snug.

“What’s wrong with your cat?” he asked, his eyes on the huge-breasted waitress that was serving the table behind us.

“He had to have surgery. He had these stones…”

“Do you think those are real?” he asked.

“Do I think the stones were real?”

His eyes darted to mine, the first time since we’d sat down. “No, that waitress’s breasts. Do you think they’re real?”

I looked over automatically before it registered how incredibly gross it was of him to broach the subject of someone else’s fake boobs on our first date. He was probably wondering if mine were real. “I don’t know,” I said, even though I was pretty sure they weren’t.

“They just don’t look good. Not like yours. Yours look good.” His hungry eyes dropped to my chest.

“Uh, thanks. I think.”

“Sorry, I just think you’re really hot.” The way he leered at me, his pupils practically the size of dinner plates, I half expected drool to start dribbling out of the side of his mouth. It was weirdly validating in a pathetic sort of way.

Maybe because it had been so long since I’d gotten laid. Thinking back, I realized that my last lay had been Phil. Physically satisfying yes, but it had turned into such a terrible experience that the horror of the post-coital events overshadowed any pleasure I had gotten from him whatsoever.

It was obvious. I needed to get some. This guy was surely more than willing. And this date fit right into Bev’s plan of giving guys I wouldn’t normally go out with a chance. I knew she didn’t mean I should give them a chance to have sex with me, but hell, a little bit of sex couldn’t hurt. Maybe Ari was some sort of sexual dynamo who was just clumsy at conversation?

I decided to turn up the charm; flirting had always been my favorite sport. I leaned over the table toward him, knowing I was giving him an excellent view of my cleavage and motioned for him to lean in. He did, his eyes widening in his anticipation.

“I’m not wearing any panties,” I whispered just as our waiter returned with our drinks.

Ari gasped. He leaned back to allow the waiter to put the tumbler of scotch down in front of him. I sipped at my martini, thinking about my lie. I was so wearing underwear; would never go out without it. But for some reason, guys really get off on the idea of women going commando. I guess it’s a signal of easy access. Frankly, I think it’s a signal of a dirty ho, but I could tell from the beginning that Ari would be totally into it.

Once the waiter had disappeared again, Ari leaned back over the table. “I’m getting hard for you,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

“I’m getting hungry.” I licked my lips, thinking about the shrimp, knowing he was thinking I was hungry for something else.

He took a deep breath and swallowed before exhaling.

When they came, I took my time with the plate of shrimp. Dipping them several times into the sauce, then taking each one between my teeth and pulling it slowly from the shell. He was going crazy and I was loving it. Things were looking up.

Later, when Bev called, I was in the bathroom waiting for the call.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Not bad, I guess.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s okay. I think I’m going to take him home.”

“You’re going to have sex with this guy on the first date? Come on, Shosh, don’t do that.”

“Why not? You’re the one that says I should give guys a chance. Maybe he’s a sex god,” I joked to try to keep from getting defensive.

“That’s not what I meant by giving guys a chance. I didn’t mean giving it up on the first date. I meant dating guys…oh never mind.”

The conversation was circling the bowl. “Whatever, I’m getting some tonight. In my books, that’s a positive.”

Bev sighed. “Whatever, Shosh.”

“Hey, thanks for calling. I won’t need saving so I’m gonna let you go.”

“Just make sure he wears a condom,” Bev said.

“Of course, I’m not stupid.”

A while later, the waiter arrived to clear our dinner plates and asked if we would like any dessert and coffee. I opened my mouth to order a slice of cheesecake, but before I had the chance, Ari refused and said we were in a rush and got out his Visa. I smirked. Not that I was at all hungry; I was actually stuffed, but was thoroughly enjoying drawing out the meal.

By that time, I too was feeling some of the heat I was infusing into poor Ari and knew that my dry spell was soon going to be broken.

As Ari dealt with the bill, I was mentally preparing for the remainder of the evening; where were the condoms? It’d been a while since I’d brought a guy home so I couldn’t remember—in the nightstand or in the medicine cabinet? Were the sheets relatively clean? (Who cares, they wouldn’t be for long.)

Ari got up out of his chair, his obvious hard-on pressing against his fly. He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of the Outback.

It felt good to be back in the saddle.

* * *

Ari turned out to be a mediocre-ish lover. No orgasm for me, but that was normal for the first time with any guy; I just couldn’t get that comfortable with a new man. But that was okay; my battery-powered silver bullet would finish the job after he left.

The only
really
bad thing was how slobbery he was. I felt like I was drowning in his saliva when he kissed me; he covered my whole lower face with his gaping maw causing a soggy vapor lock. Sadly, I had encountered bad kissers before and quickly compensated: every time he looked like he was going to close back in for a kiss, I’d pretend I was deep in ecstasy and bite his shoulder. He seemed to think that was pretty hot, so it was all good.

He was even good for a second time, so it was well after midnight before I glanced at the clock.

“You were awesome,” he said, lying beside me.

“Thanks,” I answered. I placed a silent bet with myself as to how long he would make awkward small talk before bolting. I kind of hoped it was sooner rather than later.

“You’re really something, Shoshanna.”

Something in his voice triggered a memory that I couldn’t quite place. I turned my head to look at him and his face was different now. He didn’t have that horny, hungry look in his eyes anymore. Instead, he had an expression that I hadn’t seen in a long time. The look I hadn’t seen since Max and I had started dating eons ago.

Ari had googly eyes.

I panicked.

Jeez. This is what I get for bringing home a nice Jewish guy just for sex. He ends up falling for me somewhere between the impromptu striptease I had performed and his second bed-shaking, sheet-gripping climax. I should have known better.

But maybe this was what Bev had been talking about. Maybe this was the kind of guy I should be looking for. He seemed to have a decent job, the Beemer, a place in the Lower East Side (he told me about his place on the drive over to distract himself from our imminent sexual antics). So why wasn’t I considering him dateable? Was he too easy? Desperate? The kissing was absolutely awful, but could probably be improved upon with a little instruction.

I smiled. “Thanks, Ari. That was really nice.”

He smiled again, a genuine smile. I had just made his year. He slid his hand down my belly. “Want to go again?”

I shivered under his touch, my body aching for sexual release, but I knew it wouldn’t happen, not with him, anyway.

“I can’t. I have to get up for work in the morning. Really early.” It was a sad truth.

“I’ll drive you to work in the morning. That should save you a bit of time.”

Disappointed that he expected to stay over, but realizing I couldn’t kick him out to drive home this late, I smiled and thanked him. “But I’m really tired, I’m just going to grab a shower.” I got out of bed and leaned over to pick up the discarded condoms.

“You have the best ass,” he crooned.

“Thanks,” I said over my shoulder.

He wasn’t so bad.

* * *

“I’d like to see you again?” It should have been a statement, but the way Ari said it, it was very much a question. I felt sorry for him that he had such low self-esteem. Whether it was true or not, he made me feel like I was out of his league. Never a real appealing feature in a man.

I buckled my seatbelt. “That would be nice. Maybe after the holidays, we can get together.” I looked out the window and yawned, regretting how late I had stayed up. As it turned out, I had been ready to give Ari another shot once I got out of the shower. Mr. Shower Massage had done wonders but left me looking for more.

He pulled out of the ‘visitor’ parking spot at my building much more slowly than he had pulled away the night before. “Does your family do a big thing?”

“Well normally they don’t but this year since my dad got married, his new wife wants to do a big Rosh Hashanah dinner.”

Ari visibly deflated. “Oh, that sounds so nice.”

I glanced over. “Where’s your family?”

“Israel. My parents took my brother on an extended tour of Israel; they will be spending Yom Kippur at the Wailing Wall.”

“Wow, that’s a big deal. How come you didn’t go?”

He shook his head. “Couldn’t get the time off work. Now I get to spend the holidays alone.”

“Why don’t you come with me to my dad’s?” fell out of my mouth before I realized it.

His head snapped toward me. “Really? You think? Are you sure, we really don’t know each other.”

“You met my grandmother, we’re practically married.” What was I saying? Note to self: conversing without adequate sleep and before morning caffeine injection can be
very
dangerous.

“Well Shoshanna, if you’re sure it will be okay with your family, I’d love to come with you. And not just in the bedroom, either, har har.”

I rolled my eyes.
Easy there, joke boy.

“I’ll check with my stepmom, but I’m sure it will be okay.”

“That’s awesome. Thanks.” We were stopped at a red light so Ari took the opportunity to lean over and give me a kiss on the lips. A big wet slobbery kiss.

As he backed off, I felt like I’d been kissed by a camel. Gross. I was definitely going to have to do something about that. This whole giving guys a chance thing was a lot wetter than I’d ever have imagined.