The Romance Novel Book Club (2 page)

Chapter Three

As I started down the sidewalk, the sky decided to complement my day by bringing down a deluge of water. In my infinite ‘wisdom’, I had left the apartment not only without checking the weather, or grabbing an umbrella, but also wearing a white cotton top and no coat. By the time I reached the restaurant, my lacey pink pushup bra heralded ‘Hello, world. Look at these hooters. WOO!’ I knocked on the door and pressed my enormous orbs into the pane of glass. Yes, gentlemen. These could all be yours for the price of a ride home.

My lips quivered as the air became cooler, bringing my ta-tas to full attention. About that time, Matt appeared at the door but didn’t open it. Apparently he was very apt at spotting a sexual beast on the prowl. Rawr.

“My car won’t start. Can I use your phone to call a cab?” I yelled through the glass. With my hair plastered to my face, I pleaded with him using the eyes on my chest.

“Go around back, and I’ll let you in.” Matt pointed to the side.

I nodded and took off down the small alleyway, wondering how important man on woman sex was to me. Maybe I should grab the L train and skip the business of courting a man to play with my va-jay-jay.

Matt opened the door, and I scampered in, giving my boobs a joyful bounce across the threshold. Awkward silence hung like mistletoe between us, and in my mind I saw that romance novel mocking my nookie-free existence. Doing it in the rain had always been a fantasy of mine.

“Oh, Matt!” She took his pressing kisses, her arms wrapping easily around his neck as the rain soaked them to the core. Her ginormous boobs popped free of confinement as Ma
tt
jerked the white cotton down
, caressing, fondling, and teasing them. She bent her head back as his warm kisses trailed down her neck, leading a path to her two amazing knockers.

With my luck the Pope himself would show up, slap me on the back of the head, and call me jezebel harlot sinner. Twenty Hail Marys and fourteen Our Fathers, please. Either that or the rain would work its way into my nostrils and my passionate ‘oh Matt!’ would sound more like ‘Oh, gurgle-hack-hack-choke.’

Oh crap. I realized Matt had been talking to me while I wandered off to
Fantasy
Island
.

“I’m sorry, Matt. It’s been a really weird day for me.” I played with my lips, dragged my teeth along the lower one.

“I was saying that a cab takes forever around here. I don’t mind you hitching a ride with me on one condition.” He had a lovely leather biker jacket on which made him look totally bad ass. I swear it took all of my resolve not to jump his bones.

Oh dear. The twins were in orbit again.

“That would be beyond sweet of you! Um, condition?”

“You always pay cash. I don’t know your name.” He slapped his keys on his palm, giving me a cocky grin. “And, well, my name’s on the tag I’m forced to wear. You have me at a disadvantage.”

“Patricia.” Oh. OH! Yes! If I gave him my name, we could be all like ‘Oh Matt!’ ‘Oh Patricia!’ ‘OH MATT!’ ‘OH PATRICIA!’. My knees weakened, and my dry panties were done for.

“Well, Patricia. Shall we get you home?”

A squeaky acknowledgement passed through my lips like a tween-aged girl squealing over the Jonas Brothers as he led me out the door into the rain again. I swear he took his time getting the car unlocked.

Damn, I lamented. Too bad it wasn’t a bike. I could have pressed my body up against him and curled my fingers around those amazing abs of his. Okay, at least he didn’t have a muscle car or something else men usually buy to compensate for lack of schlong size. Matt had a nice Ford Taurus. No bragging and no way to gauge his … distance.

“I’d offer to warm your hands for you, but I need mine to drive.” He smiled, flicking on the heat. I jumped and giggled as the air hit me.

“What?” he questioned.

“Oh just the whole warming of the hands thing. Reminded me of this joke about Amish people and wagons.” I stifled another bout of laughter before clearing my throat. Everything he said came out as perverse to my slutty hearing. “Never mind. I’ll just be quiet now.”

“You’re usually talking my ear off in the restaurant. Why stop now?”

“Am I really that bad?” Oh no. I’m one of those yippy women. He’d end up hearing me like I was one of the adults on all those Peanuts television specials. I was her! Sullen, I gave him directions to my apartment building.

I couldn’t catch a man right now if I charbroiled ten pounds of beef and rigged a cage over it.

Matt nudged me two blocks into the ride of hell. “You’re not that chatty, Patty.”

Sweet. The nickname I avoided all my life came rearing its ugly mug. My mood plummeted into the pint of Ben & Jerry’s mode. One more awkward moment would send me into draining my wine collection fast. I was with one of the men of my dreams, and I was blowing it. Considering I highly doubted I could snag Joe Manganiello, I put damage control into high gear.

“Well sorry to disappoint, Matthew.” I sniggered.

“Ugh. I hate that name.” He groaned.

“The feeling’s mutual when it comes to calling me Patty. I prefer Patricia.” I crossed my arms and hmphed. I found it easier to stare into his gorgeous eyes when other people were around. At least I could feign interest if he caught me. Here in the confines of the car, however, proved to be a challenge. My gaze wanted to devour every last inch of him.

“Noted.”

I pretended to pluck an invisible thread from my slowly drying blouse to catch a peak of his package. Yeah,
that
package. I figure if it had any weight on it, it would definitely show through those masterfully tight jeans of his.

“Enjoying the view?”

Busted. “As much as you enjoyed yours back at the restaurant,” I quipped. “That’s my apartment complex. You might as well park in my spot.” I began to like Matt for more than extra breadsticks and a killer body. More than ever, I wanted to crawl all over him like he was a jungle gym. As his car eased into my space, the rain—a soft pitter-patter moments ago—turned into a gale force torrential downpour. My jaw dropped open for a second before I turned to Matt.

“Care to get wet with me and go inside for a nightcap or tea? It beats sitting in the car waiting for this to stop.”

“You just want to see me all wet and vulnerable.” His grin almost made me shiver with excitement. That special thrum my body gave just before a lustful night of naughty passionate nookie coursed through my veins.

“I figure you owe me since I already danced in the rain for you.” I stuck my tongue out like a child. His beautiful ringing laugh further decimated my moistened panties and made me want to lock lips with him. Not like anyone would see me bouncing in his lap with the rain outside.

“Sure. Why not?” He winked.

We took off running from the car, and somehow our fingers got laced together. I didn’t care how. That warm flushed feeling of a first kiss coursed through me, and I got the female equivalent of a woody. Underneath the overhang, we glanced at each other in a fit of laughter. Damn. Six pack abs to die for. Before lust spread over my face like wildfire, I headed up the steps, keeping my hand in his until we reached my apartment.

“It’s not much, but it’s the right price, and the neighbors don’t complain about the noise.” Reluctantly I let go of him and dug out my keys. Right inside the door, we huddled for a second. “I have a little dryer if you want to use it.”

“Ah. Trying to seduce me. Shame on you.”

The mirth in his eyes as he leaned against the door frame was heaven to my aching lust. I had to control my inner teenage hormones, or should I say whore moans?

“Hah! Like my top is holding anything back!” I jabbed him in the ribs, and his laughter infected me again. Could he be the one? Just as I casually leaned into him, his cell phone started playing ‘It’s Raining Men’. My smile drooped a little at the implication as Matt excused himself and moved a few feet away. That perfectly built body played for the other team? My gaze went to the freezer where I knew my reserve Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia mocked me. I knew I should have bought a pack of double ‘A’ batteries today.

Chapter Four

Words couldn’t describe how I felt. My car’s temperament had given me a wide open door to Hunkymanland. Too bad it led to the Backdoor Cabaret. I wanted to cry, to throw myself on the ground for a good old-fashioned hissy fit. Instead I felt the swell of tears accompanied by a quivering lip. I fought it off with a vengeance. I didn’t want to give in to the mockery of my love life forming in my head. My age and failure would not be bedmates, and I’d be damned if I let it happen because of my recent kink in the chain.

I stripped down to my underwear right by the door. What did it matter if Matt got a free show? He preferred hot dogs over tacos anyways. I started the kettle for tea. It would shrill like a catcalling sailor when it was ready. My body needed something to warm me up since I entered the freeze zone with Matt’s ringtone. I chewed on my bottom lip, giving Matt one last look of ‘please play grab ass with me’ before heading back to the bedroom. His back couldn’t see my sad pathetic ploy. Damned if I wasn’t horny as hell.

I threw my wet clothes into the laundry room and grabbed my robe. No sense in shaking my assets for a man that wasn’t buying what I had to offer.

At least I was home and not stuck in my DOA car. Always have to remember the positives. My apartment had a great set up for my crazy lifestyle. An open kitchen off the living room and the laundry room in a little cubbyhole beside it for those times I spilled whatever I was cooking on myself, which happened a lot. My place might be neat, but it’s due to constant cleaning, not me being a neat freak. Anything bigger and I’d be the inner slob I am. My bedroom was down the hall, and that was my sanctuary. The room, compact, had a huge walk-in closet with a small segue to the bathroom. Perfect for those shower to shoes mornings.

I grabbed my pajamas and a towel, closing the bathroom door from the other side leading to the hallway to give Matt more privacy as his voice rose higher. I didn’t want to hear about whatever sexual thing he was setting up for the evening.

Not that I was judging him. I had heard enough of the conversation to know he was definitely talking to his partner.

“You’re a really stupid girl. You know that?” I sighed. My robe off and hung, I stripped off bra and panties only to feel like crawling up in a ball for a good cry. My underwear—a really nice lacy pair I had just bought to entice some hunk of meat into my bed—was marred with Eve’s Curse. So much for thinking I was leaking passion’s juice. Plus, I wasn’t due yet!

Oh why do you hate me, Mother Nature?

I dried off with the towel, holding back the tears as I pushed the stained underwear into a corner with my toe. Miserable, I sat on the toilet and fiddled with a tampon.

“Now I can’t even masturbate,” I cried, holding back a full-on tantrum.

Guys had it way easier. They didn’t have to contend with a fickle vagina cramping their style. I finished my grotesque task and snatched up my pajamas. They were white, and no way was I going to wear them to bed with the Red Devil riding my crotch.

I stormed out to my walk-in closet only to gasp in surprise as Matt bumped into me. Flustered, and more afraid he’d see a small string dangling from my bits, I covered up. Damn my tiny hands! To his credit, he reddened and turned away. He might be gay, but chivalry was not dead at least.

“It’s really pouring out there now, Patricia. It’s not too much trouble for me to stay longer, is it?”

“Uh no.” I pushed on his back to get him to move. “Laundry room. Down the hall on your left. You’re dripping water everywhere.”
And sending my clitoris into overdrive
.

I gave him another shove, harder than I intended, but Matt being almost in my bedroom felt too much like invasion of privacy to me. Maybe not so much an invasion but a temptation in the Garden of Eden. Forbidden fruit, plucked away by Adam’s partner Steve. If I couldn’t have Matt in the way I wanted him, my bedroom was off limits. It’s like a vegetarian putting a cow steak in the refrigerator.

“I might have something that will fit you.”

After I was sure he’d vacated my boudoir, I tossed aside my white PJs and picked some baggy sweatpants. If I was going to bleed all over the place, I would dress the part.

As I might have mentioned before, the number of men that had been in my bed and had parted ways wasn’t pretty. Mr. Right never visited once because obviously I preferred Mr. Tiny Penis, Mr. WTF, Mr. One Night Stand, or Mr. Can We Just Be Friends. Maybe I was that bad in bed. The only good thing that came out of it is some of them left clothing behind during our ‘romantic’ interludes. I might have something to fit Matt’s tight little ass. Gay or not, I’d still sneak a peek.

Plucking a few pieces of clothing from the pile, I walked to the laundry room. As I entered, I found Matt
completely naked
stuffing his clothes into the dryer. His taut ass, his ripped abs, that perfect ‘A’ frame. Damn. I melted and whimpered inside. Melody in
Heart’s Desire
raved about the size of Armando’s package. Armando’s twin brother stood in my laundry room. I certainly wouldn’t be gasping it was too big. Hell no. I’d be throwing him down and screaming ‘Let’s ride until the cows come home, partner! YeeHAW!’

The cruelty of the real world made sense. It’s no wonder I had only come across guys whose penis size made me go ‘meh’. All the men with a nice two-fisted cock were gay or working in porn. I held out the clothes and cast my glance to the sparkling tile floor as Matt noticed my presence.

“These should fit,” I squeaked.

“Thanks.”

My eyes wandered. I couldn’t help it, and Matt’s long dark locks hid his face. The sweatpants glided over his hunky form, and I almost panted like a cat in heat. His head turned, and I fled to the whistle of the teakettle. If luck embraced me again, the steam from the water would scald my face to give me a reason for being flushed besides embarrassment. Awkward didn’t even describe the situation. Bat-shit crazy kind of did.

What was I thinking bringing him home? Did I really know Matt? Sure, he served a mean table but other than that? He could be some homosexual psychopath who was never breast fed as a child and he hunted down lonely heterosexual women with big titties. I resolved to keep my eye on him and as soon as his clothes dried, out the door he would go.

I heard a big boom, lightning flashed outside, and the lights went out. It reminded me of the fireworks my parents dragged me to every Fourth of July and how much they terrified me. So, I did what every rational thirty-something women would in this predicament.

I screamed.

A half-second later, arms wrapped around me, and my ‘homosexual psychopath who was never breast fed as a child’ alarm went off. I dropped to the floor. My elbow went flying and connected with something slightly rigid but cushy. I recognized Matt’s groan of agony. I fumbled for the flashlight I kept on the counter and flipped the switch. He lay sprawled on the floor clutching his incredible schlong, and I winced.

“I heard you scream,” he said with a gasp. “I thought something happened to you.” He moaned in obvious pain, and I winced again. He hadn’t grabbed me forcefully, only laid a hand on my shoulder, but thanks to my overactive imagination, I’d just incapacitated a gay man’s love gun.

Wow. What a cordial host I’d turned out to be.