I can do this, right? Right. It’s one night. Look out world, Lisa Bradenton is breaking out. Boom! There, the shell of her former self was gone and in its place was a vivacious bombshell just waiting to get it on with a hunky guy. For one night only.
Her hands, unfortunately, weren’t on the same page as her thoughts. They were sweating and clammy, and absolutely refused to release the steering wheel of her car as if they had a mind of their own. This had seemed like a good idea as she got dressed for the evening. Now, after she’d made the hour-long journey, here she sat having doubts.
“Break out of your shell!” they’d said. “Live a little!”
“The only way you’ll get over him is to have a quick, no-strings-attached fuck. And Cole? Cole knows how to hook ya up with someone who will rock your world. Guar-an-teed.” That had been Rochelle. But what sealed the deal were three little words: We dare you. Lisa had agreed her friends were right about needing to live it up a little. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, off they went, planning her little night out all the way down to her pink silk panties. Gah! She was a heifer! What did she need with silk panties? It didn’t matter; her friends had decided she’d be wearing the skimpy panties so that’s what she wore.
The one thing she needed to help her get over her ex was a roll in the hay with a hottie. Then her ex would be out of her system and she could move on. The only problem with the plan was that she’d never been a one-night-stand kind of girl. Like, ever.
Her first and only lover had been her ex, Mick. Or, Mick-the-dick as Rochelle called him. Rochelle always did have a way with words, and her assessment of Lisa’s ex had been spot on. Mick was a dick. Lisa also found out, after a recent and rather enlightening conversation with Ro, that not only was he a dick, he had a small one to boot!
How was she to know? She’d never been with another lover and never even peeked at Playgirl. Until she’d had enough of Mick’s cheating, she’d never even thought of being with another man. Now, six months after their break-up, she was sitting outside Trasola, psyching herself up to go inside and pick up a one-night-stand.
Lisa’s cell phone rang and she dug through her purse, searching for the ringing offender. “Hello?”
“Get out of the car.” Rochelle.
“How do you know I’m still in the car? I could be freaking a hunky man right now for all you know.”
Rochelle snorted into the phone. “Baby, if you were fucking a hunky man, you sure as hell wouldn’t be answering the phone. Besides, I know you remember? I know that you’re sitting in your car, psyching yourself up to go in there. So, go already! You look hot! What’s the problem?”
The problem? Ro wanted to know the problem? Well, she’d never done anything like this before, for one. And two, she’d only ever had sex with Mick. He obviously wasn’t happy with her performance since he cheated on her. What if she sucked at it?
“Why couldn’t you guys come with me? I can wait here while you drive over.”
“No. This is about you getting a grip on your life and what you want. This is not about hiding behind the group. Mick pushed you into the shadows with his insults and controlling behavior. We’re pushing you back out. Get. Out. Of. The. Car. Go and find some one-time lover that thinks you’re the hottest thing on two legs and get the Dick out of your head, once and for all. Cole knows you’re coming in tonight and promises to keep an eye on you so you don’t end up with a freak that’s too freaky. Get going!”
Good Lord, the owner of the bar knew she was coming in and looking for loving.
Could she be any more embarrassed?
Rochelle was right. Crude, but right none the less. Plus, it made her feel a little better that the owner of the bar, Cole, was a friend of Ro’s and he’d make sure she didn’t end up with a total nut-job. Sighing, she let her head drop back to the headrest and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled it slowly through her mouth before responding to her friend. “You’re right. I’m doing it. I’ll call you guys in the morning.”
“You go girl!”
Laughing, she clicked the phone shut and put it back in her purse, double-checking to make sure she had the essentials: lipstick, keys, and condoms. Lisa scrambled from the car before she had a chance to second-guess herself, again.
Walking became a new experience for her in Rochelle’s four-inch stilettos, but tonight was about busting out of her old rut. Cute sandals were out, and sexy freak me pumps were in.
The shoes and the clothes had all been chosen and forced onto her by her friends.
There was no way she’d have ever gone out in such a tight fitting, short ensemble otherwise.
Lisa had curves. No, not just curves, her curves had curves. Every minute Lisa spent wrapped in Rochelle’s mostly spandex and flowing chiffon clothing she felt like she’d pop a stitch. But the girls had assured her that she looked hawt. Of course, they said it in their best Paris Hilton voice.
Tugging at her skirt as she approached the door, she took a deep breath and stepped into the bar. Looking around she was relieved to see that the interior looked like any other bar. Unless you knew the type of people, human and not, who frequented Trasola, you’d never know it catered primarily to creatures that went bump in the night. She just hoped they’d want to bump her.