(18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT)
"I'm good at other things too, sweetheart," His voice was gruff and husky, my lips unconsciously parting in a daze. He's standing dangerously close to me, trapping me between him and my cupboards. The tension is suffocating an...
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Throughout my entire life, I'd always thought I would never encounter a true soulmate. A human that unequivocally understood me like the back of their hand. Someone that perceived my needs just by the mere bat on an eyelash or a brief glance.
Sure, there were endless throngs of people that struck my curiosity or entertained the desire, but there was never anyone that gave me those sparks or made my stomach churn by eye contact. There was no one that catered to the quintessential man I had been yearning for. Instead I had only received some meek contact that barely made my heart skip a beat.
In retrospect, I'd like to believe I was a suitable partner-- someone my significant others could count on to discern their emotions, and aid to their needs. Without sounding completely vain and narcissistic, I believe I relieve the feelings of hopelessness and insecurity, providing a great deal of affection and unadulterated care.
This, of course, isn't because I discerned and recognized it myself, no. This was the insinuation one of my flings brought to attention, trying to coax me to date him. He had mused the idea of dating me for quite a while, but was too discouraged by the thought of losing me. And once he struck the nerve, he belted it out, words stringing together so forcefully, I had to contemplate for a moment to comprehend.
Sadly, to his notion and suspected thoughts, I turned him down.
As time went on, the college boys were even more revolting and repulsive, suppressing the need to even want to be with a man. They would all fuck then chuck, hooting like undomesticated dogs whenever they would get the chance. God, they were disgusting. It only took me one party to grasp that.
However, against my distaste for men during my college years, I had begun working as a waitress at one of the local bars. I was freshly twenty, flirting with all the regulars who proudly wore shiny rings on their fingers. This definitely was my 'hoe phase' as some would presume.
One day, when I was working a night shift, a handsome man sat at the bar tapping his fingers against the wood to some tune playing in his head. He was charming, having one of the most perfect smiles I could ever imagine. In fact, I was significantly intimidated by his exterior that when I approached him, my whole body sort of froze. He possessed this golden shade of blonde, styling it with a stream of gel. His eyes were this subduing blue, snapping upon my being as I made my rounds.
I was comparable to a school girl, trying to manage in front of a crush.
"Good evening, sir," I greeted, wearing one of my cordial smiles, "are we hungry or are you just watching the game?" My eyes flickered up to the large screen, watching a football player crossing the field.
When I shifted my eyes back towards him, he was scanning my body with his lips parted. This made my heart beat accelerate and my hands to begin shaking lightly, similar to my anxious pre-teen self. His eyes drug up when he noticed my gaze, removing the plush lip from between the whites.
