Laura believed in strength in numbers. When she went out on the town, it was with a group of women whose public behavior ranged from outgoing to boisterous. These not-very-close friends of hers, many of them blondes, drew most of the attention from the roving packs of men. This allowed Laura to hang back and take on the role of The Quiet Brunette, and hope that one of the non-alpha males would meet her standards. She wanted the guy to be at least adequate in looks and social skills, but she demanded intelligence, self-awareness, confidence, and wit. For Laura, that guy would be a fine companion for a one-night stand, even if the sex wasn't great.
This Friday, as always, she low-keyed her makeup. A little base to hide some small cheek blemishes. A touch of blue eye shadow, to contrast with the hazel eyes. Her natural-born lashes were thick enough to need no help. Rosy-pink lip gloss. She had noted in the powder room mirror that her hair was behaving well, curling inward at the nape, bangs muting the size of her head. She'd do just fine on her own, maybe too well, hence her use of a phalanx of blonde hotties.
Her group settled in at Hazlett's, a bar big enough to let a DJ spin in one room, while in the rest of the space it was possible to speak, hear, and be understood. There were five of them tonight, and in short order they were approached by a group of seven guys. Chances were that there'd be no more than one of her kind of man here, and there might well be none. She was resigned to this. Being alone in bed after a night out wouldn't bother her. Sharing a bed with the wrong man would bother her a great deal.
She nursed a flute of white wine and watched the guys execute their strategy. A brash one, a little overweight and using that as a launch point for his banter, addressed all the women while also aiming at Marcie, short and curvy and always behind a people-pleaser smile. The real prizes in Laura's group, tall willowy Dana and sweet-faced athletic Neris, exchanged looks and words now and then with the two hunkiest guys. Lesley, darker blonde, scrolled her phone indifferently.
The men seemed more like former frat brothers than co-workers. Scanning them, Laura at once ruled out Brash Boy and the two hunks. In a couple minutes she also cast aside a dark-haired, wide-eyed guy who seemed to have trouble standing still, a tall angular guy who laughed at everything Brash Boy said, and a brawny guy whose resting face seemed to be that of a badass. This left only one guy, but so far Laura was encouraged by what she picked up from him.
She labeled this guy Prospect. Light brown hair, long prominent nose, less prominent chin, alert blue eyes, relaxed expression. Black slacks, reddish-brown shirt with a slight shimmer. When he had attempted eye contact with each of the women, his expression was neutral on the other four, but he gave a little smile and maybe an eye-twinkle to Laura. She returned the half-smile, thinking she may have found a kindred spirit in the meet market game: They were aware of the charade and amused by it, but still eager to get what they sought.
After one of Brash Boy's jokes, Prospect added a single word that made it much funnier, drawing attention from the blondes for the first time. An exchange or two later, Laura followed on one of Marcie's statements with a four-word witticism that had everyone roaring, and even made Lesley look up from her phone with a chuckle. Prospect smiled wider and nodded her way.
The hunks and blondes quickly took over the conversation, with one of the hunks praising the mix they heard from the dance side. That began the process of pairing off and drifting towards the dance.
Prospect approached Laura. With a lopsided smile he said, in a waiter-ish cadence, "Hello, I'm Don. I'll be your wingman tonight."
The smile she returned was mostly sincere. "Hi, I'm Laura. Feel free to cut me out of the herd."
They spent a few minutes dancing. Laura was now convinced that he was vetting her just as she was vetting him, assessing their body-movement comfort levels. He wasn't a great dancer, but he knew it and didn't let it bother him. She showed her sense of fun with a few butt shakes, thrown in to show him it was no big deal that she was, in fact, quite a good dancer. Her loose blue blouse, hip-tight gray skirt, and black hose hadn't drawn much attention while the two groups had chatted, but the clothes made her noticeable while she danced, especially through the moves of her long arms.
Back in the other room, she got him to a table for two. Their chat was more style than substance, each quickly confirming that the other was clever and amiable.
Soon, after having been close enough to pick up his breath a couple times, she said, "You haven't been drinking. Are you a desi driver for your crowd?"
"I'm not the only one. And the others know enough to get ride shares if they're really wasted." The lopsided smile seemed to be standard equipment for him. She didn't dislike it, at least not yet.
"Well then, congratulations," she said, holding her head erect and outward as she smiled, so as to make her jawline look its firmest. "This is your chance to seal the deal."
Less of a smile. "Would it ruin everything if I tried to limit your expectations?"
"They're already limited." Her own smile stayed at the same level. "I'm looking for a night of fun. You can be part of it." She glanced at his fingers, and saw no sign of rings, now or previously. Not that it would have mattered.
"In that case, Laura, I'd like to join you."
She could have made a joke about joining, but he hadn't brought raunch into the conversation, so she held back. Putting a hand on one of his, she said, "Then I invite you to take me to my place."
***
Laura Canfield had just turned 25. She had moved up a couple rungs in the financial planning firm that recruited her out of college, and she expected to get her student loan paid off in two more years. Working and earning were her focal points. She liked the work and was interested in it, and was indifferent to romance. She liked men, and having sex with them, and then moving on.
Don, who gave his last name as Pelfrey, kept up a little small talk in the car, starting (and dispensing) with his last name. He conceded that his friends routinely called him 'Belfry' and 'Bats.' He also confirmed that the guys he was with were college buds, though not from a frat.
They exchanged work info. Don was a data researcher for an outfit that got hired by ad agencies. Laura's comfort at his income security seemed to be mirrored by Don. This match in their attitude wasn't necessarily a good thing to Laura. He might be thinking long-term about her, while she just wanted to avoid picking up a derelict who might get needy.
Her studio apartment allowed her to live alone and stay on budget. "Would you like some music?" she asked as she let them in.
"Only if you want it," he said, gently taking her hand. "I'd like to pay attention to you."
She shook her head, grinning. "You don't have to push any more buttons. You're here, aren't you?" Cocking an eyebrow, she closed two deadbolts.
He chuckled. "And I guess I'm staying a while."
She leaned in for a slow, soft kiss, lips to lips only. "At least until I get out of the bathroom."
After a quick mopdown of armpits and the likely points of contact, she donned a satiny camisole that matched her undies, then put on a robe. Exiting the bathroom, she said "Your turn," hoping he'd take it as a command rather than an offer. He did.
She turned on the kitchen alcove light and darkened the rest of the place. She doffed the robe and got into bed, pulling covers up to waist level.
Laura was comfortable in her body, but didn't like how it looked overall. She was lean, despite exercising only once in a while, otherwise trusting to a modest appetite. But the proportions weren't her idea of ideal. She was about 5' 8", long in the torso and not so much in the legs. The vertical expanse of her rib cage and abdomen made her B-cup breasts seem even smaller. Her hip curves weren't dramatic and her butt was, in her view, just a butt.
She hoped he'd catch on that this encounter would be more about feeling than looking.
Clearly he did. When he opened the door and saw her in bed, lit dimly, he turned off the bathroom light. He wore only boxers. His limbs were smooth, maybe there was some ab definition. Not a big thrill for her. She wasn't much interested in the sight of men's bodies.
She pulled back the covers on the empty side of the queen bed. He set something down on the nightstand and joined her. There was enough light for her to discern the pack of condoms.
As she leaned up on one elbow he snaked his arms around to embrace her. He began the kiss, and this contact picked up her heart rate. She let him take the weight of her body, putting both arms around him, feeling his shoulder blades and back ribs. No analyzing now, it was time to enjoy. Their tongues pressed together. She got moist.
She put a hand inside his waistband and grabbed a butt cheek. "You can strip me," she whispered roughly.
He pulled up the camisole from behind, and she slithered free of it. A hand came to her front, and as he caressed a breast she noticed his rough skin, unusual for an office worker.
Later,
she told herself.
