Sunday Brunch – The Victory Lap

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“Gentle reminder, it’s not a walk of shame if you stop for brunch on the way” – the internet (so it must be true.)

 

The morning after. We’ve all had that nightmare of a moment where you open your eyes and you don’t recognize the ceiling, or the uncomfortable mattress you’re currently laying on, you don’t even recognize the limp arm draped across your chest or the snoring that’s coming from beside you. It was probably during those two slutty years of college, or… last weekend. You don’t want to look, you want to close your eyes and hope that the Sandman is playing one of his nasty tricks again.

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But you know in your heart of hearts, that last night after what should have been your last gin and tonic, your alter ego Mercedes made an appearance and took home this fine fella, who, after you look him over you realize, eh, you’ve done worse. He’s probably a gentleman and would open your car door for you should he ever take you out on a date (chivalry, lol!) But you know what this means, Mercedes left you lookin a mess, like your closest relative is the raccoon digging through the dumpster out back.

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Luckily that skanky bitch (aka drunk you) didn’t pack your bag and you learned your lesson after the fifth (-teenth) time you had to walk home in your stilettos and a pair of his basketball shorts. Sliding out from under the clammy fingers trying to grope you even in his sleep (gentleman, remember?) you start picking up the trail of scattered clothes like they’re breadcrumbs you left yourself the night before. After you get over the initial terror that is looking back at you in the bathroom mirror, you wash your face with a questionable bar soap and throw your hair up with the single hair tie in your purse. Stealing one of his oversized t shirts you tie it in a cute knot at your hip and pull on your black spanx, the ones without the pee hole because they can actually pass for workout shorts – and who just went to the gym? You did! (damn girl, you healthy AF). Rolling up your outfit from the night before you shove it into your purse (yes, its small enough that it can fit in there) and you leave your prince charming (does anyone remember what his name is?) to start your very respectable “I got laid” parade knowing your mother will never be proud of you. But you still cute though!

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Stay pretty. maddie-signature

Sunday Brunch – Boy Bye

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“Gentle reminder, it’s not a walk of shame if you stop for brunch on the way” – the internet (so it must be true.)

 

Once upon a time you hooked up with a fuckboy. It happens, no judgements. And then there was a full moon, or Aries entered Mercury or maybe you’re horoscope told you someone from your past was going to come back into your life – romantically. And there he was again… the fuckboy. But this time, he was different, he took you out on a date… A REAL DATE, like out in public, with other people around (WHAT!?) And then that date turned into two and then three and then next thing you know his shit is in your house, as in permanently. How did this happen? Fast forward one fight, then two and then you break up with him… because he will always be a fuckboy (it’s in his DNA or he’s just an asshole, whatever) and then he leaves and you finally get your blessed 2nd toothbrush space back (like that space is for important people, as in not you).

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A few months later you’re perusing the mall, minding your own damn business when you see him. And you try to run or hide or be someone else, but alas, lady luck is not on your side today. So you smile and wave and oh there she is, the skank of the week threading her arm through his. Cue awkward small talk and the silent desperation to be anywhere but here because his attempt at showcasing Brittney who looked like she just finished her shift on the pole is starting to seriously piss you off.

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The next day your phone rings – a number you don’t recognize. After answering, you realize why you don’t answer calls from numbers you don’t know. Its him, he wants to know if you still have his black hoodie. Obviously not (LOL turns around in mirror admiring said black hoodie. It looks better on you anyways.) And then he says the words because his ego can’t take whatever bullshit he thinks he heard, “Seriously, it’s been like a year, I think it’s time you got over it. I’ve moved on, maybe you should too.” You bite your tongue against telling him about the multiple O’s from the man who just left your bed that morning, a foot taller, built like a god and trumped his pencil dick in every way possible.

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Naturally you decide to be the bigger person. Maybe. Maybe not. Because how the hell else are you supposed to deal with Satan’s biological son? In the nicest way possible you tell him his only real promise at a relationship will be with someone who’s not actually sure if she wants a boyfriend or if she’s really just hungry and has high hopes for change. So thanks for the memories but you need to leave… like my life… like forever. Because sweetheart, I am SO over you.

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Drink water, be kind, stay away from douchebags. maddie-signature

Sunday Brunch – The Delusional Dater

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“Gentle reminder, it’s not a walk of shame if you stop for brunch on the way” – the internet (so it must be true.)

Aloof; calm, cool and collected, put down the phone. These are the things you keep repeating to yourself over and over because you just had the best sex of your life and now he’s leaving and you don’t want him to leave, you want him to stay… forever. And ever. But you can’t say that, you can’t even allude to it because that would make you bat shit crazy, and he doesn’t need to see that side of you… yet. So as he slings on his jacket, you subtly sniff the air around him just to get one last smell of that delicious cologne that shredded your panties, you smile at him and thank him for the great night. Aloof, calm, cool and collected.

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You lay in bed with a smile on your face as you start to map out your future with Mr. Right (now) and you can’t wait for your 2nd date. He hasn’t asked you on a 2nd date yet, but you know its coming, it has to be coming, this night was just too perfect. You send a message to your group chat of best girlfriends and tell them all about your date and that you’ve found the one. THE ONE.

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The next day you consider deleting your Tinder because why would you need it anymore? His text still hasn’t come but it will, you know it will. You scroll through his photos again with a wistful sigh as you plan out how the holidays are going to work, will he come over for Thanksgiving? You want him to meet your mom, she will love him.

You keep this mindset until your best friend comes over and slaps you out of your delusional fog of bullshit and makes you realize he’s just another fuckboy (who still hasn’t text you) who gave you a great orgasm. She tells you orgasms are great but fuckboys aren’t. ‘The One’ and fuckboy are not words you put in a sentence together, the only word that should go with a fuckboy is BYE.

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Put yourself first, eat pizza and realize how fucking gorgeous you are. maddie-signature

Sunday Brunch – Nudes or Nah?

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“Gentle reminder, it’s not a walk of shame if you stop for brunch on the way” – the internet (so it must be true.)

 

Is it just me or are sending nudes the new “tell me about yourself” ?

 

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I can’t remember the last time a conversation didn’t go from “what are you up to?” to “send me pics” and you know, you know, “send me pics” doesn’t mean he wants a photo of you posing with your dog from your last hike.

So the question is… do you send nudes? I mean, in today’s world of what we call “dating” which lets be honest, the new definition of dating in the world of tinder and bumble is who is going to next end up in my bed, is there really any other way to get to know a person? I could count on one hand the number of guys that have actually told me their last name before sending me a dick pic. But really, how else are you supposed to know if he has the ability to give you a dazzling O if you don’t look at the goods beforehand?

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And in the world of dick pics, vagina selfies are an essential, integral part of the game. If you receive a dick pic, they are most likely wanting something in return, what happened to the givers of the world? It’ll take about 57 tries until you get that one perfect shot, you know, that one angle where you end up turning yourself on, like damn girl, who is you? So grab the wine and get your posing on; who knows, maybe your soulmate lies in the next, tell me about yourself 😉 (it’s all in the winky face)

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Know your worth, be kind, take care of your vagina. maddie-signature

Sunday Brunch – Side Pieces

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“Gentle reminder, it’s not a walk of shame if you stop for brunch on the way” – the internet

 

Alright, so I literally had to Urban Dictionary this shit;

Urban Dictionary: The other woman. Also see Goomad.

So naturally, I looked up Goomad: Italian Term for the broad you’re banging on the side. The other woman.

While I was on my Googling journey, I came across this catchy little tune entitled Side Pieces by Drake and Brian McKnight that I listened to probably twenty times in part because its Drake and Brian McKnight and the fact that its actually hilarious, each time making me painfully aware of how pathetic dating can actually be.

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I know you’ll never be more
And you’ll always be less
But there’s comfort in knowing that you’re okay being second best
I already got a starter but I’m looking for the rest of my team

This is probably one of those terms that was invented to cover up the negative stigma that clouds “The Other Woman” or “Mistress” (ew) but side piece well, that sounds like something you could handle, maybe even a little bit classy (lol, yeah right) and that perhaps you don’t need to reevaluate every aspect of your life.

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Have I ever been someone’s side piece? 100% I have, I don’t know if I know anyone who hasn’t been someone’s side piece at one point in their life or another whether they knew it at the time or not. Are you kind of an asshole if you know you’re the side piece and keep him in your roster anyways? Maybe. Okay probably, but no judgements girl, it’s your journey.

I ended up going out with this football player who I’d met on some random dating app and when he invites you to his house as your “first date” (we’re going to loosely use the word date here) if you don’t know what’s going to happen, well, honey, you shouldn’t be going to his house then. Naturally I texted his name and address to my girl, you know, safety and shit. I knocked on his door and in less than ten minutes of me being there, my skanky ass was naked. I couldn’t be ashamed, I had to own it; one thing I’ve learned, life is way too short to be embarrassed of your inner slut, let her free girl.

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You know how they say, it’s not the size that matters, it’s how he uses it? Well boy was hitting tens in every category. It was a memorable afternoon that had me smiling for a few days; until I realized the sweet nothings he was whispering in my ear, he was whispering them in other ears too. I wasn’t just the side piece, I was one in a harem of side pieces. There were no rules, it wasn’t a relationship, I basically showed up at his doorstep in my birthday suit begging to be touched by this sexy giant, but in the end, it wasn’t enough for me. One thing I learned from this experience was the fact that I’m not okay with fighting for someone’s attention, I’m greedy and I want all of it.

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So the questionable morals of the side piece fairy tale, should you settle for being runner up? (hell no) Remember, you’re a side piece for a reason, that reason being he’s a shitty human being.

Side Pieces – just another play in the mindfuckery game of dating. Don’t share your crown, girl; wear it, own it, you’re a queen.

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Nuts by Alice Clayton -REVIEW

BOOK DESCRIPTION: 

From New York Times bestselling author Alice Clayton, the first in a brand-new romance series telling the humorously sexy tale of Roxie, a private chef who gets a taste of love—but is it to stay, or to go?

After losing almost all of her clients in one fell swoop following an accident involving whipped cream, private chef to Hollywood’s elite Roxie Callahan gets a call from her flighty mother, saying she’s needed home in upstate New York to run the family diner. Once she’s back in the Hudson Valley, local organic farmer Leo delivers Roxie a lovely bunch of walnuts, and soon sparks—and clothing—begin to fly. Leo believes that everything worth doing is worth doing slowly… and how! But will Roxie stay upstate, or will the lure of West Coast redemption tempt her back to Tinseltown?

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REVIEW:

I know I’m going to get a great read if I pick up an Alice Clayton novel and this one didn’t disappoint. I finished this book in less than two days and couldn’t put it down.
I loved the story between Roxie and her sexy farmer Leo and had me wondering if I should take a drive down to Bailey Falls for my own rugged farmer and a jar of zombie pickles.
I love the relationship between Roxie and her hippie mom and the obstacles that define their relationship and the reason Roxie has to return home in the first place.
Clayton writes in a way where you can feel the passion the Roxie has for her food and her man; its a heart-warming story that is relateable and steamy and a wonderful, fun, easy summer read.
Even as a standalone, I thought the next novel was set up subtly and smoothly and I cannot wait to get my hands on it!
Cheers Ms. Clayton, you did it again!

STALKING ENCOURAGED:

http://aliceclayton.com/

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SWIPE RIGHT – THE CHRONICLES OF AN UNPAID PROSTITUTE – Chapter Twenty Four + Epilogue

*read all of the chapters for Swipe Right – The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute in order here

Chapter Twenty Four

 

He pulled back, holding my upper arms. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. I suddenly felt the heat of embarrassment; that was clearly not what he wanted. “Maddie…”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I just thought… oh god.” I turned and ran away, hearing him calling after me. I’d just made a pass at one of my clients and it was quite clear he didn’t feel the same.

Running into the woman’s bathroom, I felt tears on my face. What the hell was I doing? How did I get here? I placed both hands on the counter and hung my head, just breathing. After ten minutes, the bathroom door opened and Ben walked in. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why are you always running away from me? Am I that scary?”

“No, Ben, I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed. I shouldn’t have done that. I just… I don’t know, I’ve developed some sort of weird crush on you and I clearly took it way too far.”

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I can’t say that I’m not flattered.” He paused and I could see him sorting through his thoughts. “But the thing is, I’m gay.”

I felt it. The upheaval then the drop of my stomach. Well that was unexpected. “What?”

“I’m gay, Maddie.”

I dropped my head against the mirror with a loud moan. “What the hell? But you’re always with different women.”

“Different women who are business associates.”

“But my grandmother told me that her friend Marg’s grandson was single and living in San Francisco and that we should hook up.”

“Well, I am single and living in San Francisco and we should hook up, for like shopping or grabbing a coffee. I think I’m a pretty fun guy. And I’m an awesome fucking friend.”

I stared at him before laughing. I’d never heard him swear before, he’d always been so stuffy, so proper. “Can we go get drunk?”

“Yes!” He took my hand and we walked back toward the party. “You know I do have a brother.”

“Is he gay too?”

“No, he is very heterosexual.”

“Ah, as tempting as that promo sounds, I think I need to take a step back from the non-dating, dating world.”

“Yeah, revenge fucks get old real quick.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re pretty easy to read,” he told me with a wink.

“You’re right, they do. My grandmother called me a prostitute tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you at least getting paid?”

I sighed. “No. If anything I’m losing money.” We both started laughing at the ridiculous state I found myself in.

“And it wasn’t a new campaign I wanted to talk to you about.”

“No?”

“No. I wanted to run an idea past you. I want to open up a firm, and if you’re willing, I want it to be yours. You run it, it’s your name on the sign, and it’s your baby.”

“What? But I’m just starting out.” I felt all my dreams colliding together as I stared at him.

“No you’re not. You’ve been sitting in a cubicle for three years with other people taking credit for your work. I’ve been paying attention which is why I specifically asked for you to take my campaign. You’re too good to be stuck behind someone else’s name, Maddie. You’d be surprised how much weight your name carries in the marketing world.”

 

Epilogue

 

A year later, I was emptying one of the last boxes in my new office of my new company, the one that had my name on the door. Ben had become one of my best friends, my very gay best friend, and he was a person I relied on in my daily life. I was meeting up with all of my friends tonight to celebrate and Ben asked if he could bring someone, there was no other answer than yes. Especially because I was very curious who this new man friend of his was. Oh la la.

For the first time in a long time, I felt independent. I didn’t need to have sex with a stranger in order to validate myself in some ass backward way. I was comfortable being alone because I finally knew my self-worth. If a man didn’t want to take me out on a date, a real date without sending a dick pic or taking me to a sex club or asking me for money or was on parole, then I didn’t need them. I wanted to let it happen organically so I closed all of my dating site accounts. Maybe in six months I would try again, but right now I was okay without the one night stands.

Laughing over drinks, the girls and I were waiting for Ben to show. In a non-business setting, the man was consistently fashionably late. When he finally arrived, silent looks were exchanged around the table as they approached. Dayum, the man friend was fine. “Maddie, ladies, this is my brother, Corey.” Ah, the resemblance now made sense.

Reaching out his hand, I gripped it with mine. “Nice to meet you, Maddie. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I heard the suggestive noise Lisa made from beside me as she sipped her drink. I pretended to ignore her.

I felt my smile, the warmth that was these people as they surrounded me while we drank and laughed and celebrated.

Ben, who placed another drink in front of me (like I needed another), wrapped an arm around my shoulders as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Not gay.”

“Got it, thank you so much.” I rolled my eyes at him and shoved him away.

“Very single,” he mouthed as he took at seat across from me.

“Ben’s told me that you just moved into your new office.” I turned to Corey whose attention was solely on me. He continued to ask me questions and it was a conversation that was interesting and intriguing. He was asking questions that no other guy had ever asked me before; he asked about my family, what I liked to do. He was so attentive. It was the first conversation I’d had in a long time in a casual setting where the man wasn’t acting like he wanted to immediately take me home to bed. Besides Ben, that was. Because he liked the p just as much as I did. I found out more about Ben’s brother, that he lived right here in San Francisco, and I’d never seen this fine piece of man meat, and that he owned his own consulting firm. I wondered then, if this was the grandson Marg wanted to set me up with.

I looked around at my friends who were all happy and laughing, most of them now relationships, and I knew that I wasn’t the same girl I was a year ago. I didn’t feel some misplaced need that if my friends were in a relationship, I had to fuck my way into one too. If a man wanted to take me out, I wanted to know it was going to be worth it. I wanted to try the friends before lover’s thing; I wanted conversation and romance and wooing and hearts and flowers and everything in between.

As the night came to a close, the fantastic four were left – me, Jamie, Ben and his sexy brother Corey. Jamie and I stood on the sidewalk hailing a taxi while we said our goodnights. As the yellow car pulled up, Corey opened the door, like a fucking gentleman. Jamie climbed in before me; I felt his strong had on my wrist as I moved to follow her. “Let me take you out for dinner.”

I smiled. “Like a date?”

His grin did something to my lady parts. “Yeah, like a date.” A real date! I felt butterflies and as much as I wanted to jump at the opportunity and tell him yes, then ask why he was still clothed and point to the dark alley behind us, I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t that same girl anymore. Ben’s brother was different, a good, delicious, sexy different. But so was I. “Maybe.”

The End

I hope you enjoyed reading about Maddie and her shenanigans as much as I loved writing about them. If you take away anything from this online book, I hope its that its better to be safe than sorry – wrap it up.

My deepest gratitude & Warm Wishes.

J.

SWIPE RIGHT – THE CHRONICLES OF AN UNPAID PROSTITUTE – Chapter Twenty Three

*read all of the chapters for Swipe Right – The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute in order here

Chapter Twenty Three

 

There were so many people at the party. The DJ was playing music and people were dancing. It wasn’t a typical early bird special, senior citizen party, no sir, Mimi and her friend liked to dance and they liked to drink. Music was bumping, drinks were flowing, food was being served. It was the perfect way to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday.

I took a glass of pink champagne on my way in with eyes on the food table. Mimi stayed behind with her friend Marg so they could make an entrance. A girl always needed to make an entrance. There was a round of loud cat calls and cheers when they finally walked in – queens, both of them.

Guests immediately gravitated toward the dance floor. I watched with fondness from the sidelines. “I think she’s enjoying herself,” my mom mused as she sidled up next to me.

“Me too, good job on the party mom.” A man approached us with a broad smile. He was about my mom’s age, give or take a few years. They seemed familiar, comfortable, some twinkle in both of their eyes as he asked her to dance. And wouldn’t you know, she actually looked flustered. My mom had a crush. I leaned in, “Go, Mom. Dance, have fun.” And as I was left standing alone, I could almost see the spotlight on the bar.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

I whipped around at the familiar voice behind me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He laughed. “Nice to see you too.”

“Your level of stalking is starting to become alarming.”

“Oh Maddie! There you are. Marg wanted to introduce you to her grandson,” Mimi almost shouted from across the room. Her and Marg with champagne glasses in hand, arm in arm came walking over.

“Oh! You two have already met, how wonderful.”

“Ben is your grandson?” I asked, almost outraged.

“Mimi is your grandmother?”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Mimi and Marg asked at the same time.

“Yes, we know each other.”

“Ben, doesn’t she look beautiful.” I immediately felt my face flame. I downed the rest of my champagne in one sip. Oh god. “Ask her to dance.” This is what it felt like. This was what utter mortification felt like.

Ben, bless him, took me out on the dancefloor and placed his hands on my hips as I wrapped mine around his neck. Damn, the man smelled so good. “You do look beautiful, by the way.”

I smiled up at him, “Thanks.” The rest of the song was silent, and when it ended I, for some insane moment, decided I was feeling brave. I was an idiot. “Do you want to go talk somewhere more quiet?”

“Sure.” He grabbed us both a glass of champagne and I slipped my arm through his. He ushered me out on to one of the balconies. It was a now or never moment and I felt the butterflies. Ben was the perfect guy. He was handsome, successful, nice.

“You had mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about another campaign?” I’d made sure to touch his arm, all the little tricks I’d learned over the past few months.

He laughed. “You know, we don’t need to talk about business all the time.”

“Fair enough.”

He held up his glass, “Cheers.” I clinked my glass against his and took the plunge. I leaned in and kissed Ben Davis.

*tomorrow – Chapter Twenty Four

SWIPE RIGHT – THE CHRONICLES OF AN UNPAID PROSTITUTE – Chapter Twenty Two

*read all of the chapters for Swipe Right – The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute in order here

Chapter Twenty Two

 

I was summoned to help my mom decorate the hall. I’d been informed when she’d picked me up from the airport yesterday that it was a double birthday party; Mimi and her friend Marg’s birthdays were a day apart and they were both turning the big 8-0.

I was drowning in silver balloons as I shoved them out of my face, pulling them from my mom’s little car and dragging them into the hall. There were old photos of my grandmother everywhere; photos of her and my grandfather, they looked so in love, photos of Mimi and Marg. My grandmother was currently at the salon getting her hair and makeup done; she’d blown the lid on her own party. No one could keep secrets from Mimi, it was a known fact. I don’t know how she found out, probably from the neighbors, cousin’s paperboy or something.

“Come on, the hall will do everything else,” my mom said, grabbing my elbow and dragging me outside. “I scheduled time for us to meet Mimi at the salon and get a blow out.” I wasn’t going to argue, this hair needed some love.

Mimi sat in her chair like a royal queen, her nails, hair and makeup being tended to. By different people. I was ushered into a chair and explained that I just wanted to wear my hair down. My mom sat in the chair beside me. We listened to Mimi tell the entire salon about her friendship with Marg, how they’d been friends for over forty years and lost touch then found each other again. “Marg was the one whose grandson lives in San Francisco,” she said, pointedly at me.

“Oh great, the successful business man, right.”

“I think he’s coming to the party you know, you can finally meet him.” Oh lord, this would be interesting. I couldn’t even refuse, it was Mimi’s birthday and what she said was the final word.

 

I’d changed into a tight black dress. I walked down the stairs and felt my mom’s eyes on me. Judging.

“This is a new look for you,” she mused. It was. When I was with Aaron, I would take to cardigans and button downs. Now, I felt comfortable in my body and felt better wearing tighter clothes that showed off curves I was proud of. Yes, it gained more attention and if I was honest, this was a dress that was one of my more modest outfits from my recent closet overhaul.

“It’s nice, looks good on you,” Mimi said, walking out of the kitchen. “You know I knew this girl when I was about twenty, she was just the nicest person and I would stop and talk to her when I was on my way to my job. One night I saw her and she was all dressed up wearing a dress exactly like that. I asked her where she was going and she told me she was working – she was a prostitute.”

“Mimi!”

“To like rich men, she had standards, no judgement,” she implored holding her hands up, “all God’s children.” She looked me up and down. “Does it come in my size?”

“Did she just call me a prostitute?” I asked my mom who had her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter.

“Yes, but the way I interpreted it was that you look like a prostitute who has high standards, not one of those hood rat prostitutes, you know? One that buys Chanel and drives a Mercedes.”

“Oh my god.” I turned and moved for the front door. “Can we go?”

*tomorrow – Chapter Twenty Three

SWIPE RIGHT – THE CHRONICLES OF AN UNPAID PROSTITUTE – Chapter Twenty One

*read all of the chapters for Swipe Right – The Chronicles of an Unpaid Prostitute in order here

Chapter Twenty One

 

I sat in Mel’s office and listened with joy as she explained I had some requests from other clients. They’d heard through the grapevine about the success of Ben’s campaign and they liked my approach. Well okay then, go girl.

 

It had been two days since I saw Ben at lunch. I remembered that he wanted to talk to me about a new campaign and I gathered my lady balls and called his office. “Hey girl, he’s not here. He decided to go to the conference in New York.”

“Oh yes of course. Mel left earlier today for that as well. She’ll be gone for almost an entire week.” And allow me some breathing room.

Val told me that Ben never mentioned anything about another campaign but he hasn’t stopped talking about the results the current campaign was getting. “Since my boss is gone and your boss is gone and it’s Friday – what do you say we sneak out early?” she suggested. “I think we can make it for happy hour.”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” I told her. “Whoever gets there last buys the first round.”

It turned out I was the last one there and the first round was on my buck. Val was easy to get along with; we talked and laughed and it was a great way to decompress after a hectic work week. I looked around the busy bar and felt myself stiffen. “Crap on a cracker,” I muttered under my breath.

Val snorted into her drink. “Pardon?”

The familiar face across the room hadn’t noticed me yet, thank the good lord, but there he was, buying drinks at the bar. Apparently he could afford drinks, but not groceries. I quickly told Val my horrendous date story when, damn, my luck had run out. He’d spotted us. “Hey, sexy. Long time no see! How have you been, we should get together and catch up.”

I looked at him like he had two heads. “Oh yeah, I’m going to be busy that day, sorry.”

“But I didn’t tell you what day.”

“I’m going to be busy every day. Forever.”

“Okay, who’s your friend?” Yep, and I let this guy put his dick in me. Good job self, pat on the fucking back.

The next week I was focused only on work. I felt like I needed a dating detox. I even deleted one of the apps. Believe it or not! I could have sworn I was getting carpal tunnel in my thumb from swiping. I lived and breathed work putting everything I had into these new campaigns when finally the day came that I was able to go home for Mimi’s big birthday bash.

*tomorrow – Chapter Twenty Two