I found both men and women attractive. I mean, sex was sex. No big deal. Fun and occasionally pleasurable. Like the other night. Julia from Legal came home with me and rode my dick like a fucking pogo stick. She was beautiful, brainy, and slightly terrifying. We’d been casual bed partners for a while, neither of us looking for permanence, but when one of us had an itch, the other was happy to scratch it. She always seemed to enjoy it more than I did, though. For me it was…it was fine. I didn’t need fireworks. That shit was for books and movies, anyway, not real life.
But with this guy…this stranger…my reaction went way beyond finding him attractive, and I needed to think of something, anything, to stop the crazy thoughts tumbling in my brain. What could take my mind off grabbing this man and dragging him off the train to have filthy, hot sex?
The crotchety board of directors of the hospital popped into my mind, and my erection instantly deflated. I breathed a sigh of relief. Visions of flabby, naked old men would do that.
“Are you dating anyone?” He nudged my shoulder, and I grimaced, shifting slightly.
“Are you aware of a thing called personal space?”
The train wheezed and squealed, picking up speed as we rounded a curve. To my mortification, centrifugal force pushed me up against the man, and for a brief moment, I caught a whiff of his aftershave and wanted to eat his face. Another half inch, and I’d be tasting his lips. Lips that looked soft and kissable and…evidently, my coffee hadn’t kicked in to start my brain functioning. That had to be the reason I was lusting over a stranger on the 2 train.
“Speaking of personal space…usually men buy me dinner first,” he murmured, and I grabbed the seat bar on my left and pulled off him.
“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
He winked. “That’s what they all say.” He nudged my shoulder, the push of his hard muscle sending my pulse spiking once again.
Would this train ride never end?
Maybe if I answered his earlier question, he’d shut up. “No. I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Why? You’ve obviously got money—I can tell your suit is Armani, and your tie is this year’s Fendi. I’m a fan of Hermès and Gucci, myself.” That simmering gaze traveled at an excruciatingly slow pace over my body, leaving me aching with…something. “Bad divorce?”
Oh, for God’s sake.
My control snapped. “Listen, I paid for a train ride, not a therapy session. I just want to sit here, read my paper, and be left alone.” I stuck my face in the pages and prayed we’d reach our destination soon. But of course the train crept on the track like a burglar through a pitch-black living room, and we weren’t getting very far uptown at all.
“No wonder you’re not getting any.”
I ignored him.
“I mean, you’re very attractive, but who wants to play in the sheets with an ogre?”
I huffed and rattled my paper.
“Unless you were married and you’ve sworn off relationships. Hmm. That seems more likely.”
“I have not been married,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to get married.”
“Why not? Are you a player? One of those guys who bangs a different woman every night?”
A snicker had me setting the paper down. Again. Curious George’s face was alive with laughter. He was going to get a punch in the nose if he didn’t shut up.
“First of all, I’m not a frat boy. I don’t use terms like ‘bang.’ I’ve grown well beyond that terminology.”
“Well, excuse me, your highness. Fine. Do you have sexual relations with many different women?”
Pretty-boy didn’t have to know I was bisexual. He’d never leave me alone.
“I—” About to answer him, I stopped myself. Why the hell was I continuing to engage with a stranger about my life? And if he could be nosy, so could I.
“What about you? Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?”
He seemed taken aback that I’d asked him a personal question, and those expressive green eyes widened. For the first time, he paused. “I did. But he cheated on me.”
Having grown up with a father who could’ve taught a master class in adultery, I could sympathize. “I’m sorry. That’s never fun to deal with.”
The train hiccuped and began to move at its normal speed.
For someone as voluble as this man, the subject of his life proved to be the one topic that shut down his spark. “He was getting calls late at night and acting shady. I’d check out his Instagram and see him tagged in pictures with some guy who looked like a party boy. I didn’t think Oscar was like that. He was a manager at Applebee’s, and he wanted to own a franchise one day. I thought he was someone steady who had his head on straight.”
“Sounds like a smart businessman.”
He pursed his lips as though the betrayal still tasted as bitter as a lemon. “So I thought, until I found out the truth. One night after I came home from work, he was off, saying he had to go out and interview potential employees. No idea what made me suspicious, but I tracked him on his phone, followed him to a club in the Village. When I went inside and searched, I found Oscar getting his dick sucked in the bathroom. Dirty bastard.”
A discreet cough sounded above us, and I glanced upward into the disapproving face of an older man. I shrugged. “Get some earphones if you don’t want to hear.”
His face flamed, and he turned away from me while other people snickered. Obviously, my seatmate’s story was providing salacious early morning gossip fodder on the way to work for some commuters. But since he had no reservations about spilling his guts to a total stranger, I had no qualms about continuing the conversation.
Who was I kidding? I wanted to satisfy my own need to know the details. Equally stunned and repulsed by his story and the thought that shit like that went on in public places, I prodded him. “Damn…that’s awful. The cheating was bad enough, but sex in public?”
I must’ve looked as shocked as I felt, because he grinned. “Oh, I don’t mind that. Sometimes the mood hits, and you just need it. A dressing room, bathroom stall, under the table…quick, fast, and deliciously naughty.” He licked his lips. “Know what I mean?”
No. I hadn’t a clue what the hell he was talking about. I could never rationalize being so out of control and desperate to have sex that I’d take a chance and go at it in a public place. Sex belonged inside. Behind closed doors. In the bedroom. I ignored his question and countered with one of my own to ferret out more info.
“How long had you been together?”
“Three years. I don’t even know when the cheating started ’cause he keeps denying it and saying he loves me and it was a one-off mistake, but I don’t believe him. Why should I? If he lied about one thing, how can I trust anything he tells me to be the truth?”
Something didn’t sit right with what he’d said, and despite the fact that I’d never been in a relationship, I knew that if someone had cheated on me, their ass would’ve been right out the door.
“You aren’t still with that loser, are you?”
He stared at the filthy floor. “No. I mean, I told him we were done, but he keeps coming around, trying to get me to forgive and forget. He says he never meant for it to happen and that he loves me, but in my book, you don’t cheat on someone you love.” The fun and flirtiness had vanished from his handsome face. “I don’t answer his texts or calls. I deserve better than a liar.”