It’s unfair how good casting directors are at their job. It’s Friday evening and I’m at home wrapped in a blanket watching the latest rom-com Netflix suggested. It checks all the boxes. The perfect male lead that makes you melt from the heat wafting from between your legs after that first shirtless scene. He’s gorgeous, but not runway gorgeous. He’s the type who can be a normal guy on the street and he’s just cocky enough to be appealing rather than off putting. As the characters get familiar with each other, you can’t help but wonder why this guy is going for that whore cast as the leading lady.
“He’s not for you!” I yell at the TV, my mouth full of the cheesecake I just made.
All these movies end the same with their happily ever after. Every. Single. Time. But they’re so addicting! The journey to finding that special someone and how they make your insides tingle is enough juice for my fantasies while I’m once again, dateless this weekend. It’s not that I hate the leading lady. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m jealous. I need an adult man, not these wimpy whiney guys on apps, to throw me against a wall and be the perfect loving gentleman. Is that too much to ask?
I turn off the television and walk to the kitchen with my empty plate and blanket still wrapped around my shoulders. The dishes need to be done. I made a beautiful cheesecake this morning for the purpose of photographing it and building my portfolio. Eating it is a bonus. I stare at the dishes contemplating to drop my blanket here or take it back to the couch. Or maybe the dishes can wait, and I’ll transfer my photos to my laptop and start editing.
There’s a knock at the door. Guess the dishes will have to wait.
Like any reasonable woman living alone, I don’t just open the door. I tip toe quietly to the window that overlooks the front stoop from the side, so whoever is there won’t see me peek out the blinds. It’s a man. Young looking. Sturdy. Oh yes, he is a well-built specimen. His face is turned slightly away from me so I can’t get a good look at his face. Like a nervous tick, he’s rubbing his hands together waiting for the door to be answered. Even if he’s selling something I think it’s worth opening the door. I walk to my door tossing the blanket on the couch and smoothing my hair down. It’s not as if I’m a complete mess. I took a shower this morning after a run. If I’m going to bake a cheesecake and eat it too, I’m going to work for it.
The door sticks a little, so I give it an extra tug to get it open. Spying on him from the side window did not prepare me for what I saw before me. His white fitted shirt and light blue jeans have black smudges all over them like he’s been working on a car. His hair is light brown and messy. He stopped rubbing his hands. Our eyes lock and I don’t think I can breathe anymore. His eyes are blue with hints of green. He smirks and I realize I must have been staring for too long and now this whole moment is awkward. I silently plead with myself not to be weird.
“Hi,” he says after a beat. Yep, far too long of a silence from my end when he speaks first.
“Hi,” I squeak. Seriously! Get it together. I clear my throat and try again. “Hi.” Nailed it. Not like a full grown woman, but better than the squeak.
The next couple of hours feel like a haze. He doesn’t immediately explain why he knocked on the door. There’s a lot of stutters about being new to the neighborhood and he’s building a racecar. It just seems like a friendly conversation with a new neighbor, and I don’t think to ask what he needs. But that doesn’t really matter, if this charming guy wants to chat, I’m okay with that.
After a few minutes, I invite him inside for a glass of water. We make small talk about our lives. I sit on one counter while he leans against the opposite one. He laughs at my cheesy jokes. Every time he catches his breath between chuckles, he inches closer to me. It seems impossible, but now he’s in front of me. How’d he get so close without me even noticing? His fingers brush the counterspace next to my thighs. He looks up at me asking why I’m so weird. I stare mouth agape not knowing how to respond. He moves his hands closer to me pressing his thumbs to my thighs. When I don’t push away, he moves to grip my hips firmly. If he wasn’t holding me, I would fall off the counter.
He reaches up and cups my face, brushes my cheek with his thumb just before lightly touching his lips to mine. We share a gentle full lip kiss. We pull apart slowly, eyes half open. For a full second we freeze, breathing in each other’s air. He’s looking at me so intently, I feel like I’m being seen for the first time. No one I’ve dated has ever looked at me the way he is right now. He’s not just viewing the outside shell; he’s taking a glimpse at my soul. This is the feeling I’ve been searching for. The moment of meeting someone and instantly knowing they are meant to change your life.
I’m not nervous or scared. Rather I’m comfortable and feeling confident. I lean forward and tug on his shirt pulling him to me at the same time. When his lips meet mine I press into them, parting just enough to bring in his lower lip. Our bodies gravitate towards each other, wrapping our arms to hold on for dear life. Time stops and nothing else in the world exists. I’ve never experienced a kiss this intense. He opens his mouth giving me a taste of his tongue as he massages mine. I cannot believe this man I just met is kissing me like I am the love he never knew. I open my knees inviting him close and he steps in and pulls my hips closer to him, my legs wrapping around him. I can’t get close enough. Pulses quicken, kisses deepen, small moans escape my mouth. I feel his growing bulge press into me and hungrily I grind myself against him. Pushing him away I grip the hem of his shirt and pull up desperate to touch his skin. He lifts his arms taking the shirt completely off and it disappears to the floor. We’re not apart for long before he’s kissing me again, trailing along my jaw and down my neck. The back of my shirt lifts as he rubs his hands up my back. I don’t remember the last time a man touched my bare skin. He peels my shirt off and finds the top mounds of my breasts with his mouth. Suddenly, he lifts me off the counter and we’re moving. I don’t see where we’re going because my eyes are closed enjoying his mouth all over my body. I feel the hook of my bra come loose and it falls. I’m thrown from his body landing on my bed. He looks down at me smiling like he just won the best prize. He comes down on top of me, his hands grabbing my breasts firmly and kissing my collar bone. I feel for his zipper.
But instead of hearing the zzziiipp, I hear water running.
I am doing the dishes. The same plate has been in my hand since I ate cheesecake from it and it’s still dirty. Couldn’t even finish my fantasy properly.