A Lil' Less Hopeless by Tara Oakes Read Free Book Online Page B

tonight. It could've been worse.”
    She pops her hip out, and throws him attitude. “Oh yeah? How's that?”
    He smirks. “It could have been Tiny.”
    Sunny rolls her eyes and leans to look past him, to me. “Good luck!” She takes another long sip of her drink and stalks off.
    “You wanna clue me in here?” I bring his attention back to me.
    He trails his eyes ridiculously slow up my body. “Guard duty, sweetheart. Blue's here to watch over the girls.”
    His eyes settle on my chest and his hand moves over his denim covered dick, adjusting himself. Ugh.. I think I just vomited a little. His whole manly-man thing just smacks you in the face sometimes.
    I point my finger to him. “And you? Why are you here?” As if I don't already know the answer.
    He slits his eyes and continues to visually undress me. “ I'm here to watch over you, Sugar.”
    ******
    The music is loud, almost too loud. The preppy-looking guy grinding his way over to me is relentless. He's already offered to buy me a drink, have a dance, and take my phone number. All of which are promptly followed by my: “I don't drink,” “Maybe later,” and, “I lost my phone.”
    What do I have to do to drive the point home? Lil's and Sunny are chatting it up with some of the other MC girls in the VIP area. Christine is flirting with the bartender, and I'm trying to enjoy the music and dance. But this fucker just will not let up. I turn to move, getting out of dodge, and see Clink watching me, grinning from his perch by the front door. Ugh!
    This fucker wants a show? Well, then I'm gonna give him a show. I reverse course and head right into the arms of my stalker. He looks pleasantly shocked and immediately pulls me close pressing us together while slithering around. He reeks of bottom-shelf liquor, and his movements become more and more sloppy.
    His lanky arms clumsily reach around attempting to feel me up. I close my eyes and try to imagine stronger arms, arms that can really hold onto a woman, arms I can get lost in. I try to imagine his slender frame growing in size until it dwarfs me, powering over me, intimidating me in the sexiest most surreal way possible. I reach my hands up blindly and slide them into his short buzz cut, but fool myself into feeling the thick silky strands that beg to be held onto, and tugged, enticing him further.
    I veer myself around using my hips to steer our movements. He instantly falls in line, letting me take the lead, and I find myself purposely skipping the beat, baiting him to seize the chance and take control. He just bides his time, rocking in place... lost, until I guide him further.
    I give up and grab his hands, pulling them up to my chest and place them where I need to be touched. I imagine his fragile hands to be the big, strong, dominating hands that I want. The ones that know how to touch and tease me, claiming me for his own.
    I need the scent radiating from this standin to be the musky sweet, smoke-filled, earthy scent that is only his. But it's not. I can try to trick myself, convince myself that his body is the one I want but it's not.
    “Agh!!” I scream under my breath in failed frustration and storm off the dance floor, abandoning the fool. I walk, determined, past the man I yearn for and out the main entrance.
    In the humid night air, I walk further... trying to shake off the realization that's setting upon me. “Fuck!” I call out, projecting my hostile disappointment in my own weakness. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
    “Whoa!” I hear his voice. I turn to face the culprit himself. “You want to stop ranting like a damn lunatic in the middle of the street?”
    I am so mad at this point, I'm shaking. “YOU!” I accuse him. “This is all your fault!”
    He holds his hands up in innocence, ignoring the passers by and continues toward me. I stomp my foot on the ground like a petulant child and pull at my hair in blind madness.
    He finally reaches and stands over me, waiting for my tantrum to end. I