#4 Low standards
After cutting hair, making idle chit chat and shaping eyebrows for eight hours straight, I need a shower more than anything. And a glass of wine. And hopefully later tonight an orgasm provided by Xavier. I show up at his place exactly on time, and he opens the door to his apartment before I can even ring the bell.
“Pizza won’t be here for another half hour,” he says, leading me into his living room. “Hope you like pepperoni. Seemed like a safe bet.”
“Very safe.” I sink down onto his couch and gratefully accept the glass of white wine he already poured for me. “Trying to get me drunk?”
He grins and winks at me. “Don’t think I need alcohol to help me get lucky.”
I roll my eyes and take a sip of wine, looking around his living room. I was in here earlier today, but I didn’t really take it all in. We were a little too busy having sex, I guess. His apartment is quite big, and very fancy. Art on the walls, brand-new furniture, everything looks like it’s straight out of a magazine. It doesn’t look anything like the apartment of other guys I’ve slept with. I’m used to mess, beer bottles everywhere, the smell of sweaty socks coating everything. This looks like a grown-up’s apartment.
“How old are you?” I ask Xavier, taking him in a little better. He’s tall, but that doesn’t mean anything. Naturally light tan skin, muscular built, young face, but his beard makes him look older.
“30,” he replies, sitting down right next to me and putting an arm around me. The guy moves fast. “You?”
He whistles. “You’re green, girl.”
“You’re old, dude.”
“Touché.” He takes my wine from me, puts it on the coffee table and kisses me. I moan against him, already in the mood. It doesn’t take much to get me horny these days. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I’m constantly on edge, looking for… well, for someone to take me into his bed and make me feel less lonely. Less unworthy and messy and just plain fucked-up. To make me feel like I actually belong somewhere.
“Nice skirt,” he grunts against my neck, sucking on my skin while his hand sneaks underneath my clothes. I shift so I can lay back with my legs in his lap. He grins cockily and takes off my panties. I moan when his fingers start working on me, and there is something inexplicably hot about still knowing practically nothing about this guy and letting him put his hands all over me even though I only arrived 5 minutes ago and we haven’t had dinner yet. Our clothes are still on, aside from my panties, and he rubs my nipple through my thin top and bra, grunting when it grows hard under his touch.
“Such a good girl,” he says, his eyes locking with mine. “Last night and this morning were amazing. I’ve been looking forward to fucking you again all day, Nia. I can’t wait to sink back into that tight wet pussy of yours.”
I moan when he starts circling my clit, but instead of repeating that motion, he shoves in two fingers and starts pushing them in and out, smirking at me. Yeah, no, this is not doing it for me. “Gentle,” I tell him, putting my hand over his.
“Don’t you like it hard, baby?” he grunts, picking up the pace.
“No,” I say firmly. “Soft. Gentle. Not so hard.”
Xavier pulls his fingers out with a sigh, and I almost tell him to forget about this whole damn thing, but then he starts rubbing clit so softly that it’s barely a touch, and I melt back into the couch. He strokes my breasts and belly while he keeps pleasuring me, all his moves slow and delicate now.
“Yes,” I whimper. “Just like that.”
“Fuck, I want to be inside of you so badly.” He squeezes my breast before slipping his hand under my shirt and pushing up my bra so he can softly massage my nipples. “You’re so beautiful, Nia. Will you come for me, baby? Be my good girl and come for me. Come all over my hand.”
My body complies almost immediately, responding to the need in his voice. I shudder with my release, moaning his name. Xavier grunts in approval, gets up to take off his pants and yanks me to the edge of the couch. He grabs a condom, rolls it on, and then he’s inside of me already. In four swift trusts, he’s coming, barely giving me time to adjust to him.
“So good,” he says, giving me a kiss before pulling out.
Well… okay then. The orgasm he gave me was perfectly fine, but the sex is a little fast for my taste, and all about him. Then again, at least he makes me come. That’s more than most guys do for me.
I put my panties back on while he gets dressed as well. He turns on the TV and I sip my wine while he puts his arm around my shoulders so we can watch a basketball game. Boring, but okay. The pizza arrives shortly after, and we eat on the couch. When I lick my fingers clean, he tells me I’m turning him on with every little thing I do, so I make a show of dragging my tongue over every single finger, my eyes never leaving his.
“Bedroom,” he decides, picking me up and carrying me straight to his bed, where he undresses me swiftly. The second we’re both naked, he grabs me and positions me on all fours, pushing into me from behind. He rubs my clit while he fucks me, and although I don’t come again, it’s nice that he tries. It doesn’t take him long at all to reach his peak, and when he collapses onto the bed, I snuggle up to him with my head on his chest.
“Hmm, you’re the best stress reliever ever,” Xavier says, rubbing my back soothingly. “You’re staying the night, right? I could use another round in the morning.”
“Erm… sure,” I say, surprised to be invited to stay again.
“Nice. Mind if I watch the rest of the game?” Without waiting for my answer, he turns on the TV in his bedroom and settles against the headboard. I just curl up around him, dozing off even though it’s still early in the evening. I’m tired, so why not sleep?
It’s not until I’m back at work the next day after two rounds of pretty decent morning sex that I realize I don’t even know his last name. Or what he does for a living. All I know is his first name, his address, and that he likes pepperoni pizza and basketball. That’s more than he knows about me, come to think of it.
Yup, I slipped right into booty-call territory with him, and I let it happen. Again. When will I learn? Honestly though, it’s not like I truly tried to find out more about him. He’s just another guy I’m spending time with so I feel less alone. I doubt he’s going to end up being the love of my life.
“You’re coming out with me this weekend, right?” Aimee asks when we’ve both got our break and are on a bench outside, eating our sandwiches. It’s nice out today, and I sigh happily as I soak up the rays of sunshine beaming down on us.
“Yeah, I’m game.”
This weekend is one of my favorite events at The Palace: the masquerade ball. Shaughna and Dshawn throw a decadent party with fancy dresses and masks about two or three times a year, and it’s really hard to get tickets. Not for me, obviously, but for anyone else. I love dressing up in an elaborate costume and the whole mystery of the night is just so much fun, with the masks and everyone looking like they belong on the set of a movie.
“Are you going to wear your dress from last time?” Aimee asks with a wistful tone. “It was so pretty. I still can’t believe you made it yourself.”
“I’ve actually made another one, a purple one this time.” I love making my own clothes, especially fancy dresses. “I finished it last week.”
“So that red lacy number from last ball is just hanging in your closet, all sad and unused?” Aimee asks, turning to look at me with her big blue eyes, pouting.
“Yes, you can have it,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Your boobs are bigger than mine, though, so I need to get it fitted for you. Tonight, my place?”
She sq ueals and hugs me right. “I knew there was a reason we were friends. Are you so you’re free tonight though? No sleepover at Xavier’s place?”
I shrug, crossing my legs at my ankles. “Nah, I don’t know, I’m not that into him.”
“He was hot,” Aimee says, wiggling her eyebrows. “And you said he made you come, right? What more can you possibly want in a guy?”
“Don’t you think we’re setting our standards too low?” I ask Aimee, thinking out loud. “You, me, Holly, Ayaan… We don’t ask for commitment, or even for someone to ask our last name or take us out on a date or something. My mother seems to think anyone with a job and his own place is perfect for me, and I honestly don’t even remember the last time that I actually truly liked a guy I went home with. Maybe I should just give up.”
“Girl, you’re young, you’re hot, you’re in the prime of your life,” Aimee says, holding out her arms and gesturing at the small park in front of us. “The world is your oyster. Or maybe I should say: enjoy this time while it lasts and get as many sausages into your oyster while you still can. Who needs a husband at our age? We’ve got years to settle down.”
“I don’t need a husband, but a proper date would be nice,” I sigh. “When did you last have a conversation with a guy that wasn’t about how badly he wanted to be inside of you or what time you could be at his place in nothing but lingerie and a raincoat?”
She thinks about that for a moment. “Back in high school, I think? I don’t know, Nia, what are you saying? That you don’t want casual sex anymore? Because you can stop sleeping around if you want more, you know.”
“And where exactly would I find a guy my own age who wants more than a quick fuck? Hell, most guys at the club don’t even go for me. When you, Holly and Ayaan are with me, all I get are your leftovers.” I grunt and take a bite of my sandwich, wishing I wasn’t such a flat-chested, totally uninteresting girl. I don’t blame guys for not wanting me, to be honest. Why would they? Even on my best days, I’m just… blah.
“Don’t be so down on yourself, Nia.” Aimee puts her arm around me. “You’re an amazing person. Sweet, funny, loyal. What more could anyone want?”
“Big boobs, someone who actually knows what the fuck she’s doing with her life, and not living at home with her parents,” I shoot back.
“No one knows what the fuck they’re doing at our age. Hell, most people over 30 don’t even know what they’re doing.” Aimee sighs dramatically. “Life is just one big clusterfuck, basically. Let’s just hope that in ten years, we’ll have our lives somewhat together.”
“What would that look like for you?” I ask, genuine wondering. We hardly ever talk like this, about real things. I love Aimee, but our friendship mostly consists of partying, drinking and gossiping these days.
“I want my own salon,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Hair, make-up, massages, manicures… A place where women - and men, if they want to - can come to relax and unwind. I want people to walk out feeling pretty and confident.”
“That’s nice. You could totally do that.”
She shrugs, her expression falling. “Money is tight. I’m saving every penny to get my dream one day. It’s why I still live with my parents. I’m sure you can relate.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Right…” Honestly, I can’t. I don’t have a dream. The reason I still live at home is because I can’t bring myself to work more than three days, because I don’t actually like my job that much. I don’t like living with my parents and siblings, but I don’t seem to be able to motivate myself to get the hell out of there.
I tell myself it’s time to snap out of this funk I’ve been in for years now. When Aimee and I get back to work, I ask the manager if it would be possible to pick up some more shifts. Surprised, she looks at me like she’s never seen me before. I’ve never asked to work more before, so I get her surprise. She agrees to add another day to my schedule and tells me that I can fill in on weekends if my colleagues take a sick day or something.
More money - check.
Now all I need to do is get every single other part of my life in order. I have no idea where to start, so for now I’ll just focus on saving up money until I find out what the fuck I want to do with my life.