Match 1: Sure there is, he gets to see you in the flesh and all I have are a few pictures of you.
Match 1: Pictures I look at quite a lot.
Jane: Quite a lot, huh?
Match 1: What will you be wearing for this friendly drinking date?
Jane: Clothes.
Match 1: That makes me feel exponentially better about it. Will you be keeping them on the entire night?
Jane: I can make no promises.
Match 1: How about just one? Keep them on at least until you get home and message me. Then you could take them off and tell me all about it.
Jane: And what about you? What will you be doing tonight?
Match 1: Fucking my fist, thinking of you.
I exhaleand close my eyes to the image.
Jane:Maybe instead of picture, you could record that for me.
Match 1: With pleasure.
Match 1: Have fun tonight.
Match 1: But not too much.
Match 1: Because later I want you coming just from me.
After our little text chat,I take a long shower and change into a pair of straight-legged jeans and tight black shirt with open shoulders. I blow out my hair and straighten it, then decide against it straight and use my wavy iron to give it a little sexy volume. I giggle to myself in the mirror as I put on my make-up. I’m not doing any of this to meet Nate for dinner and drinks. I’m putting myself together for after, when I’m home later tonight and taking pictures of myself to send to Match 1.
Tonight, I think I’m going to ask for his name.
Then, I’m going to ask for his number. This way he could hear me moan when I come. My cheeks flame from the thought. Hopefully that will force me to stop thinking about any future I still wish I could have with Dex.
I meet Nate at six o’clock on the last place on earth I want to be tonight, standing in front of Crif Dogs, under a huge frankfurter sign that haseat mescrawled across the length of it like it was written with mustard.
“I don’t want hotdogs,” I whine to Nate as he grabs me in a bear hug and lifts me up off the ground.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he says as he whirls me around.
“We’re standing under a giant wiener, Nate. That’s exactly what it looks like,” I laugh.
My feet hit the floor and his hand grabs onto mine. “Come on, I’ll show you,” he chuckles, pulling me through the front door of the hotdog place. He stops as soon as we walk inside, and I stumble into the back of him. “It’s just in here,” he says pointing to an old-fashioned phone booth. There’s an ancient red rotary phone hanging from the far wall and instructions on what to dial for someone to be right with you.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he takes the phone off the receiver and dials the number. His says his name to someone on the other end and a secret door opens up to the cutest speakeasy I have ever been inside.
“You have to be kidding me!” I squeal at the hostess who greets us.
She squeals along with me and shows us to a small table in the back, handing us two menus out from what looks like thin air as soon as we sit down. “This place is amazing, Nate. Thank you for dragging me out.”
“You texted me you sent your resignation to Gail today. Did you think I was just going to skip over that? We’re losing our best writer after she was sent to asex retreat. I want to know everything that happened,” he says, smiling. “And I want the sexual encounters to be told in long excruciating detail, please.”
“Oh, stop,” I say, slapping my menu at his arm. My eyes find a cheeseburger and waffle fries on the menu and a delicious-sounding cocktail that makes my mouth water.
A server comes to take our order and the minute she walks away, Nate places his hand over mine. “Seriously, what happened?”
