Nate
I’m in trouble.
I’m enjoying myself far too much. The whole purpose of this night was to feed her and then fuck her. Except she’s fun. She had me laughing with stories about stupid shit that has happened at the store, about her best friend––Laura––and a few on growing up in an even smaller town than Oakdale.
I try to share a few of my own, but I’m not as good at storytelling as she is. I start with some fun facts about my kids, and when she asked me about my shop, I explain about my dad, the army, and my love of motorcycles.
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”
“We’ll need to remedy that.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” I shouldn’t be thinking ahead––about spending more time with her. I should just fuck her and be done.
“It looks terrifying.”
“Terrifying?” I grunt. “There’s nothin’ more exhilarating than being out on the open road on bike.” I point in her direction. “You ride a bicycle. Don’t you feel that way when you’re riding?”
“Well, that’s different. I only go is a couple of miles per hour.”
“I bet it’s a lot faster going downhill.”
“Sure.” She shrugs. “Still not the same thing, but I’ll tell you what… if you go on a bicycle ride with me, you can take me on your motorcycle sometime.”
All my dick heard just then was “take me on your motorcycle sometime”. Jesus. I need to get myself under control because I’m starting to think the odds of me getting Prudence into my bed tonight are slim to none.
“How do you like your steak?”
“Um.” She pauses. Why’s she looking like she’s about to lie to me?
“Prudence. Speak to me.”
“Well done, I guess.”
She’s full of shit. “How you like your steak, sweetheart.”
She looks me in the eye, and I don’t know why but, she’s kinda breakin’ my heart. “I need to know how you want your meat, Prudence.”
“Medium rare.”
“Jesus. That’s a far cry from well-done. Why’d you say it if you don’t want it cooked that way?”
“My husband used to pitch a fit if I ordered it medium rare.”
“Why the hell did he care?”
“He said it was like eating raw meat. That it was disgusting.” She waves her hand. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Don’t blame her. “He sounds like a real prick.”
That gets a reaction out of her. A laugh. “Understatement of the year, Nate.”
“Fuck that guy. I’ll make you steak tartare if that’s what you want, honey.” I hold my hand up to stop her from bitching about saying that again. “I mean, sweetheart.”
“Medium rare is fine.”
As the meat cooks, I grab the salads I whipped up before she got here. “We’ll start with these. What kind of dressing do you want?” I look her straight in the eye. “I want to know what you like, not what your ex said you can have.”
