One Night

I’ll be the girl with the black dress at the bar. Red wine. See you.

There. I sent the message and now I wait.

I was shaking with nerves, I had never done something like this. David was my first everything, and I hadn’t been with anyone since him. It’s been two months since my boyfriend of 6.5 years left me for another woman.

The first month I spent wallowing in self-pity, hugging a tub of ice cream while rewatching sappy love movies and sobbed. I loved him. I thought I was going to marry him. We had been together since I was 17, I gave him my everything but apparently it wasn’t enough because he found more in between another girl's legs.

After that first month I reflected on our relationship and realized I wasn’t happy. I thought I was, but looking back on it I was comfortable. David wasn’t an overly affectionate person, and he hated PDA. I, on the other hand, needed validation. I needed him to kiss me and hold me, I needed the sweet gestures as much as I needed the whispers of what he was going to do to me when we got back to my apartment. I needed the attention, I needed the intimacy.

I finally decided when I woke up this morning that I was going to go out and get what I wanted. I downloaded the app my best friend Sarah had told me about, the people who want to find an easy lay and for the people who want to play. I hated how direct it was, but at the end of the day I was looking for an easy lay, so I downloaded it, created a profile and looked for a man who could make me feel.

Within seconds I received a message from a guy, Oliver. He was from London in town for a business meeting. Within 15 minutes of back and forth I realized this was the one, the guy I was going to use to get my attention fix. He only had one picture, but he looked attractive enough. I wasn’t one for “looks mean everything”, considering I wasn’t a looker myself.

My hair was blonde and dull, more poofy than wavy. My face was too round, my boobs were too big for my small height of barely 5’4. My stomach wasn’t flat, but my ass sure was. My thighs touched, and I hated how my arms looked in tank tops.

We decided to meet tonight at the bar downstairs of the hotel he was staying at. He had a business dinner until 8pm so he said to meet him there at 9.

“Good evening Miss, what can I get for you?” I shook my head and looked at the bartender. He had shaggy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a kind smile.

“Just a glass of red wine please,” I replied with a smile. He nodded his head and went to get my drink. I looked around at the bar while twirling my fingers, a nervous habit of mine. This was a very upscale hotel, with rooms I know I wouldn’t be able to afford on my receptionist salary. The glass chandelier was hanging in the center of the room, men wore suits and the women were dressed in beautiful gowns. I started to feel underdressed, maybe even slutty.

My black dress was tight at the top, accentuating my chest and was flowy at the bottom. It stopped mid thigh where when I sat a certain way you could see the top lace of my stockings. The back was low cut, the zipper resting on my lower back. I felt sexy and confident when I left my apartment but now I was questioning every move and decision I’ve made so far.

“Here you are, Miss. If you need anything else just flag me down,” the bartender reappeared and placed my glass of wine down on a napkin in front of me. I smiled and took the drink, taking a giant gulp. I thanked the bartender and he walked to the end of the bar tending to others who just walked in. I checked my phone and it was 9:05, he was late. I mentally started freaking out. Maybe I should just leave. This was a huge mistake, completely out of character for someone like me.

“Oh fuck. Please tell me you are Mila,” I heard a deep voice with an accent say behind me. I felt his chiseled chest pressing against me and goosebumps crept up my back. “If so, I'm probably the luckiest guy in this entire bar.”

I turned around slowly and my heart stopped at the man in front of me. Pictures did not do him justice.

Sweet. Jesus.