My Perfect Maybe

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I gave up searching for ”the one” and switched it up to looking for, ”my perfect maybe” Sadly, that too became exhausting. Yet just as I gave up all hope, I found him. He’d turned my world upside down since the moment he captured me, in his shopping trolley. No, I'm serious, he did. He's got that Alabama twang going on, and I want him. Unfortunately, I've convinced myself, I'll never have him. He's way out of my geeky league. But since meeting a sweet, cunning old lady, everything changed. She not only changed my perception of myself, but of fates plan. "We meet again, darling." Should I? Could I? Maybe, just maybe... ❤️ Rated-R - Romantic/short story with Adult content and a little magical twist. Please, don’t leave any big spoilers on reviews. Thanks in advance.

Erotica / Romance
Dembie Rose
4.6 208 reviews
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

“Yes mum, I’ll visit sometime this weekend. Tell dad I’ll bring his favourite doughnuts too.”

I hear her sigh. She knows there’s a good chance it won’t happen, but I’ll have to do it sometime. It’s been a few weeks already, and she’s on my case about it.
I don’t mean to not go, but with working a lot, I get little free time. I’m either here at work, or at home still working.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that. If you don’t show, we’ll only come to you.
Alright then, I’ll let you get back to work. We love you, honey.”

“Love you too, mum. Give my love to dad.”

When we end the call, I end up sighing. Damn, now I’ll have to go. Seriously, if they come to my place, I’ll never get them out.
I love my family, but I’m an introvert; I like my silence.

After a while sitting in my little art shop, I get lost in thought. I’m also sipping my freshly made latte. I should get working on a few portraits, but after admiring the works on my walls, my mind wanders. It’s been dead all day, and I guess I’m a little bored.
Yes I know, I could visit my parents, but I’ll save that for Sunday. I’m not ready to listen to mum asking about grandkids.
Jesus, I’ve still to meet somebody special first. Give a girl a break.
Anyway, not a soul’s come in. Well, apart from a little old lady. She only stayed a few minutes. That’s after asking about a portrait, one of Elvis to be precise. Naturally, I told her I could sketch it up. I mentioned how it could take a while to get it finished. I had quite a few orders already, and they don’t exactly take five minutes to sketch out. I also told her the price, and as I thought she would, she backed-up. I’m not kidding; I could see her brain ticking over. Then she said, “I’ll get back to you, dear.”
Normally when they say this, I never see them again. It’s mostly when they hear my prices, some aren’t willing to pay that much, for “just“ a drawing. Bloody-Nora, some think because it’s “just“ a piece of paper and pencils, it’s worthless. It’s like all those hours, days, and weeks of blood-sweat-and-tears which go into it, are worth shit. Yet if they want a tattoo, that’s a different story. They’re happy to pay big bucks, yet nine times out of ten, someone already has it on their skin.
So what’s the difference between my works to theirs? Well, I’ll tell you. The only difference is; ones on the body and the others on paper. That’s it. Oh, and unlike some artists, I trace nothing either. It’s sometimes necessary on the skin, just in case you miss anything or mess up.
At least with my way, you don’t bleed or feel pain.

I hate that word “pain” I’m not a fan. I can’t imagine anybody liking it, unless you like a bit of BDSM? Aha.
No, my pain is one of the heart. I felt it the day I discovered he cheated. It turns out she was pregnant too. He was - no, scratch that... He is a total shit-bag. Hence why I’m in no rush to settle.
I’ve not told mum yet. She’ll make me feel even worse about it.
He stood there, looked me dead in the eye and said “We’re good.” He then said “Baby, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” That’s after I asked if he’s still happy with me.
He lied, point-blank to my face. I knew he had. I checked his phone, which confirmed he was with her. Oh yes, for quite a while too.

For some crazy reason though, he’s trying his best to talk to me. Yep, he’s a twat. So much so, he’s asking me... No, begging me to take him back. Naturally, I’m blocking his numbers. Oh yes, every time he even attempts to call me, I blocked him.
I hate his guts, but I don’t hate her. I mean, why would I? It wasn’t her who couldn’t keep “it” in her pants. No, it was him! All him! Unfortunately for him, he’s probably cheating on her arse. I know this because he’s still trying to get back with me so I wouldn’t put it past him.
Have I mentioned he’s a Twat?

Why can’t I ever find my happy ending? Is it because I’m a bit of, a geek? I like to draw a lot, and my work keeps me pretty busy, but is it that? Is that why they’re put off? Does it push them away? What do I have to do to find my genuine love?
Maybe I don’t have a ‘true love’ hell, maybe they don’t exist? Or maybe I don’t need true love? Maybe I could have a one-night stand, just for a change?
Maybe I could pick out a guy, one from a crowd, and allow him to have his wicked way with me? Or better yet, maybe I could grab the next guy who walks in here? Maybe I could have a little fun with him? Or maybe there is such a thing as ‘true love’ maybe he just hasn’t found me yet?
Maybe he’s still looking?

Just as that last thought pops into my head, my shop bell pings, pulling me out of my crazy musings. My head snaps up, needing to see if it’s “my maybe“ but my body sags. Alas, fate is not looking down on me today though. Nope; sadly it’s not, “my maybe“. It’s the little old woman from this morning. She’s got a smile on her lips when she tells me; she’d like to go ahead with the portrait.
Oh well, back to my ‘Arty-Farty corner’, it is. I’m feeling pretty gutted my ′maybe′ didn’t show up today.

Meh! Maybe tomorrow will be, my lucky day.

Some weeks later:
I’ve finally finished the Elvis portrait. I also got a few other projects completed too, but the Elvis one is ready for collecting.
Once satisfied with it, I gave her a call telling her the good news.

“Hello,” she answered with a croaky voice. Bless her she doesn’t sound well at all.

“Hi, Mrs Aims, it’s Aborah from ABS-portraits.
She goes silent for a beat. I’m wondering if she’s hung up on me but then I hear her croak out her greeting.
I almost hang up. But luckily she spoke just in time.

“Oh, hello dear,
Are you calling about my picture? Is it finished? I do hope so; I’ve been super excited to see it.”

Naturally, I end up smiling when she says this. She’s been calling every day, asking how it’s coming along. Luckily, we’ve been getting along though; pretty well in fact.
How could I not, I mean, she’s so sweet. I feel a little guilty though. It’s when she’d backed up out of here. I thought she was just another time-waster, but I was wrong.

“Yes, it’s all done it’s ready for you to collect. I’m pretty excited for you to see it.
I have to tell you though; I’ve had so much fun drawing it.
It’s my first time in creating a portrait like this, so it’s been very rewarding.”

“Well, now that is fantastic news, dear.”

After she says this she, breaks into a coughing fit.
This worries me because it sounds like a pretty bad one.

“Wow, Mrs Aims, you don’t sound well at all. Do you think you’ll be, okay to pick your picture up? I’d hate for you to, make yourself worse by coming for it yourself. I mean, especially if you’re unwell?”

“Yes dear, I’ve got myself a touch of the flu. Unfortunately, I’ve had it for a few days now. Annoyingly, it seems to be worsening. I guess with old age and all doesn’t help.”
As she’s telling me she’s still trying to get her cough under control.
Bless her, I actually feel for her.

“Oh, that’s not good at all.
I’ll tell you what, how about we can wait until you’re well enough? This way, you can collect it. Oh, wait, maybe on my way home, I could drop it in.”

“Gosh, could you truly do that? It wouldn’t be too much trouble for you would it? I’d hate to take you away from your work, sweetie.
Besides, I could ask my grandson, he’d get it for me. He said he’d pop in sometime today anyway, so, I could ask him then.
Lord, he is a wonderful boy. He heard how sick I am and promised he’d look after me.”

“I promise you, it’s no trouble at all Mrs Aims. I’ll be there in about an hour. I need to close-up and then, make a stop at the supermarket first. I need to pick up some things, but I’ll see you soon okay? Will you be okay to answer your door, or would you like me to come straight in? I mean, wouldn’t want you out of bed, especially if you’re too ill.”

“Lord, you are a sweet young lady. Yes, just come on in when you get here. I’m lying on the sofa with my heated blanket. My grandson bought it a few weeks ago, for my birthday.
Ooh, and it is nice too, it keeps me warm and toasty.”
She ends that, with a little chuckle. I can imagine her wiggling her toes when she says this. I end up chuckling too, just with the image.

“Okay, well that’s good. I mean, as long as you’re resting.
I’ll see you soon, Mrs Aims.”

“Yes dear, I am.
Thank you, Aborah. I’ll see you soon.”

I like how she gets my name right now. She’s not the only one to do this though. Some pronounce it like ‘Abra’ as in abracadabra. Only, it’s pronounced ‘Aber-rah’ where you sound out the H.
It’s funny at times, but it would be easier for me to change it. I’d like to change it to something like Deborah. You can’t go wrong with it. Well, apart from the other ways you can spell it. But still, you can’t mispronounce it.
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