True Bliss (Bliss #2)(6)
Author: B.J. Harvey

Chapter 3: “Everything Has Changed”

ZANDER

After another week of training at the academy, working out at the gym and even managing to help Zach out with a shift at the bar, I’m home on a Friday night, having just finished my one gig for the evening. I managed to escape with just a few nail scratches on my back and butt. It may be a job, one that keeps me fed, clothed and the rent paid, but the excitement is kind of gone from it now.

I admit, when I started stripping over a year ago, there was a thrill to it. I’ve always loved music and I’ve never shied away from hitting the dancefloor and ripping it up. So mixing dancing with music, hot horny women, and a pair of tight shorts, didn’t seem like such a hard task. Now, I’m counting down the months until I graduate from the academy and can kiss the stripping goodbye.

I grab a beer from the fridge, sit down on my bed with my laptop, and log into Chicago Singles, resuming my search through single and available ladies under twenty-five. Let me tell you, there are a LOT of women looking for men in Chicago. You’d think that it would be the guys having trouble finding potential mates but no, I’m confronted with pages upon pages of single women trying to capture my attention.

After half an hour of searching and not finding anyone who remotely piques my interest, I decide to change tactics and look for a friendly face, someone who I can take out for a coffee, chat for a little bit, and fulfill my dare with Zach. I expand my age range, searching up to under forty, and pretty much leave it up to chance. For two months’ free rent, I’ll have coffee with just about anyone.

I spoke too soon.

It’s now Saturday lunch time and I’m sitting across from Brandi. Two months free rent is a lot of money to me, and means I can quit stripping earlier than graduation if I want to. That’s a big deal to me, so having to endure one date to win Zach’s stupid bet…well, why the hell not?

The problem is that Brandi is a thirty-seven year old divorcee who recently underwent a full body transformation, something she has spent the last half hour explaining to me in great detail. After her divorce, when her husband left her for his twenty year old secretary, she decided to try and show him what he was missing. Tits, face lift, and a tummy tuck. She’s even offered to show me her scars…ALL of them. She’s nice enough, and when we chatted last night she seemed sweet and harmless, an easy way to beat Zach. But God, was I wrong. I’ve had to pretty much pull her off my lap twice, and this is in a friendly neighborhood café. You’d expect this kind of behavior in a bar late on a Saturday night. Hell, there are kids watching in here.

When I move her hand off my junk for the third time, I know I have to call it quits.

“Sorry, Brandi, but I don’t think this is going to work,” I say firmly as I made to stand up.

“But Zander,” she purred, “why don’t we take this to the hotel across the street. I have a hotel room waiting for us. I’ve checked in and everything.”

Holy shit. This woman isn’t just a cougar, she’s bordering on being a hyena, willing to take prey at any costs.

“Thanks, but I’ve, uh, I’ve gotta go. Bye.”

I left that café so f**king fast, people probably wondered where the fire was.

Walking home after escaping Brandi’s clutches, my mind drifts back to Kate. All week I’ve had a nagging feeling about her date last weekend. Something just didn’t seem right about the two of them together. He isn’t the type of guy I would ever picture Kate with and now, after my disaster date today, I have a hunch.

She looked so uncomfortable…I’d bet money on it being a blind date, and her date lying to her about

a) his age

and

b) his personality.

I could tell she wasn’t feeling it, or him. She was so stiff, nothing like the Kate I’ve seen before. I also noticed her looking my way a few times…everything points to Miss Kate trying out internet dating.

I send Mac a text knowing that whatever Kate was up to, Mac would likely know.

Zander: Mac, is Kate dating old guys now?

Mac: Um, what?!? Of course not. She never goes for older than 30. Why’s that?

Zander: Saw her at 42nd St Bar with a guy well into his 40s

Mac: OMG. It was a blind date, off the internet. He must’ve lied on his profile.

Zander: What site?

Mac: Why???

Zander: Just curious.

Mac: Curious or interested?

Zander: Does it matter which one?

Mac: Chicago Singles Online. Tread lightly with her, okay? But if you’re interested in her, let her know.

Zander: Stop matchmaking, Mac. Talk to you soon.

Ten minutes into my search, I’m about ready to whack myself around the head when I come across a gorgeous photo showing the back silhouette of a small, beautifully shaped woman with wavy fire engine red hair that curled around her bra line. Even without seeing her face, this woman’s body was that of a wartime pinup girl. The hair, the curves, the small, demure posture of this woman blew my mind. She was stunning, a picture of beauty and grace. Everything I like in a woman wrapped up in one perfect pocket-rocket sized package. It was Kate. Clicking open her profile page confirmed it, from the sea blue eyes, her five foot nothing height, right down to the smart ass comment about not needing to see any more c**k pictures.

I can’t stop myself from messaging her. I decide to send a short, friendly ice breaker. I won’t tell her it’s me straight away though. I want her to give me a chance just to chat for a while. I want to get to know her, and this may be my only way to do that given the way she acted toward me in the bar. It’s not deception, and it’s not lying. It’s simply omitting the truth about who I am until I can be sure that she’ll give me a chance. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.

For friendship? For more? I’m not sure.

There’s been more than one night that I’ve found myself lying in bed thinking of her. And tonight, seeing that photo of her on the net blew my mind and redirected most of my blood flow south; I just can’t get her out of my head. It’s those curves that frame her gorgeous body, and the silhouette of her br**sts that I’m dying to touch.

Taking matters into my own hands, I grip my c**k firmly and stroke it up and down, over and over. My hand gliding over my soft skin, wishing I was gliding inside of Kate’s hot body. I come hard, imagining her vulnerable ice blue eyes staring up from underneath me as I’m burying my c**k deep inside her. Damn, I hope she gives me a second chance, another opportunity to get to know her. I need a woman like Kate in my life.

Kate probably thinks I’m out of bounds for her, and let’s not forget that I’ve already stupidly turned her down once. Men are different from women. We don’t have a problem sleeping with a woman who one of the guys has already been with before, as long as it’s not an ex-girlfriend. No problem whatsoever. Pussy is pu**y, and as long as protection is used, then no harm done. But Kate could never just be pu**y; seeing her tonight reminded me of that. Ever since the first night I saw her I knew she was a forever kind of girl, one that deserved a lifetime of love, protection and hot sex. Back then I wasn’t in a position to offer love and protection. Now, I might be.