This is my entry for the monthly Love the One You're With contest. If you like it, please vote and feel free to comment. Thanks!
Act One: A Madonna Seduces
I slammed the door to my apartment in frustration and shouted, "Jesus Christ, what do I have to do to get laid?!" It was Saturday evening, just after dinner. I'd just come home from another "play date" with Craig, I guy I really like who apparently sees me as, what? A sister? No, I don't think it's that bad. But I seem to be firmly in the friend zone despite my best attempts to drop hints that I'd like to move things in a more intimate direction.
Craig had moved to town early last year to take a job with the city health department. He had the enormous bad fortune to arrive about two weeks before the pandemic swept over the world. I met him at church once before everything shut down, and took an interest in him immediately. He's kind of quiet, maybe even a little shy like me. He's also tall, slender, maybe not the most handsome man around, but cute. And we have a lot of interests in common, too. We do a lot of the same activities for fun. We're both active in church and other volunteering. I'm also interested in health, although on a much more one to one basis. I'm a nurse at a nearby pediatrician's office.
We continued to see each other on Zoom when our church started to have remote programs and services in order to keep the community together as much as possible when we couldn't physically be together. He mentioned at one point that he was living alone, working from home, and really appreciated the chance to connect with people remotely since he didn't know anyone in town. I asked if he'd like to chat one on one sometime, in part because I felt bad for him, and in part because, you know, he's adorable. He readily agreed.
Being in public health, he's acutely aware of all the CDC guidelines and adheres to them as much as he can. Late last summer I mentioned that I have top notch personal protective equipment at work and get tested at least once a week (you can't have parents of patients being nervous about coming to the doctor for care), and after giving it some thought, he asked if I'd like to come over to his place to hang out. I happily agreed, and have been over there a couple of times a week ever since. We've been watching movies, bingeing streaming shows, playing Scrabble, card games, getting takeout for dinner and generally enjoying each other's company. It's what passes for dating when you can't go out to do, well, just about anything.
At some point I really started to think of him as my boyfriend, and I've been trying to drop hints that I'd be open to doing more than just hang out the way we've been. I've initiated more and more physical contact, progressing from touching his arm to long hugs hello and good-bye to where I've even brushed my tits up against him on a regular basis, but apparently he's really dense. Or maybe I have no talent for dropping hints. That would make sense. I grew up in a small town in a very conservative family. I never came close to having sex in high school, and have only been with one guy since - a boyfriend in college who I kicked to the curb after we dated for about a year. So, maybe I have no 'game' as they say.
My looks don't help either. I'm 5'3", and on my best day I've been called adorable. I have a decent body, I guess. I wear 34C bras, so my tits aren't huge, but big enough considering my height. I've got decent curves below them too. But I have rosy cheeks and freckles that I thought were a lot cuter before I hit puberty. I also have a high, sometimes squeaky voice. I think the fact that I come across as childlike helps my patients relate to me. The downside is that I sometimes have a hard time getting a guy not to think of me as attractive, rather than 'cute' or 'adorable' when I want him to. Like now.
At the sound of my rather loud entrance, my apartment mate and best friend Beth responded sweetly, "Language, dear! Did your date not go as you'd hoped?" She was trying to be funny by adopting a motherly tone which I just wasn't in the mood for at the moment.
Even when she's being annoying, though, I love Beth. We've known each other since kindergarten, and have been close ever since. When the world isn't upside down, she works in the crew of the big theater downtown doing all sorts of stuff -- makeup, costumes, set construction, whatever they need. She also does some waitressing on the side in order to make ends meet. She had an apartment in town with some of her theater friends. When the theater shut down along with all the dining out, her roommates all went home to live with their parents. That wasn't an option for Beth. For a while in high school, I was the only person who knew she was gay. It turns out that it was a smart move for her to stay in the closet for as long as she could stand it. Her parents kicked her out when she told them.
So, when her life blew up last spring along with the rest of the world, I immediately offered to let her crash with me for as long as she needed. I could hardly have done anything else. That's what friends are for, as I've had to tell her about a million times since she moved in. I can afford my own expenses including rent and utilities, and the money she's been able to get through unemployment benefits has been enough to cover her personal expenses, like food and such. Other than being a little stir crazy with not having anything to do or anywhere to go, she's been doing all right through the months that we've all been living through this. She decided that she would take care of the place, doing the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and so on while I was out playing the part of breadwinner. We like to joke that we're almost exactly like a young married couple from the 1950s. Almost.
In response to her question, I started to vent my frustration. "Didn't go as I'd hoped? No, my date didn't go as I'd hoped! I don't know what I have to do to get out of this rut! All he ever wants to do is hang out as friends, and I can't get him to see me any other way!"
"Becky, we've had this discussion a dozen times. You know, the whole Madonna/whore thing? Once a guy sees you as a nice girl, it's tough to get him to treat you like you're not. When are you going to just tell him what you want?"
"Yes, we've had this discussion, Beth! You know I can't just throw myself at him. If he rejected me, I'd never get over the embarrassment! I just can't put myself out there like you can!"
"Yeah, well, (A) I went through a lot in order to be my true self, and you know it. I can't imagine why you wouldn't be willing to do it when it wouldn't cost you nearly as much. And (B) you cannot keep going on like this! You have to put yourself out there at least a little bit more than you have been. Watching the two of you makes me wonder how shyness hasn't been bred from humanity. It's amazing that people like you ever find a mate!"
I slumped down on the couch and let out a deep, disgusted sigh. "I know, I know! But how? I'm just not comfortable offering him my body right out of the blue!"
"Right. Terminally shy. I get it." We sat there for a minute or two in silence. Then Beth got a glint in her eye and said, "Hey, Madonna, you want him to treat you like a whore? And you're not comfortable saying so? What if it wasn't you that was telling him?"
"What in heaven's name are you talking about? Are you going to tell him? How do you picture things progressing from you having that conversation to me being in bed with him? That would be even more awkward than me telling him myself! And you're the only other person who knows how I feel!"
"No, no, no. No way would I insert myself into that conversation! But what if you weren't you? What if we made up a part for you to play? Someone who acts more like the slut he must fantasize about?"
I could tell that Beth's creative juices were starting to flow.
She continued as she built up a head of steam, "Here's your part. You're not you, you're your sister. Your name is, ummmm, Morgan. Yeah, that seems right. And you're . . . applying for a job as Craig's personal assistant. It's down to you and one other girl, and you're trying to close the deal. You want to make it clear that you will meet ALL of his needs."
"Okay great, so what, I'm just supposed to show up for the 'interview' and throw myself at him? That's a complicated way of getting me right back to square one."
"Yeah, that's true. Nuts. Let me think about this. Do you want some tea?"
"Yeah, sure," I said dejectedly. That'd be nice I guess."
Beth came back a few minutes later with two mugs, a pot of tea, and an idea.
"So, you need a way to 'throw yourself at him' as you put it, but you're afraid of embarrassing yourself. Would it help if you weren't in the room? That way if he isn't into it, at least you wouldn't have to extricate yourself from the scene. And if you were 'Morgan' instead of yourself, it would add a layer of separation from your true self and the potential for serious embarrassment? You might even be able to claim that you were extremely drunk and get back into the friend zone if that's really what you want."
I was puzzled. "Okay, it might, I guess. But you're talking in riddles. How would I do all that? I can see you have an idea in mind. Spill it, sister."
"First, do you trust Craig to be discreet?"
"Of course. He's a total sweetie."
"Okay, so here's the plan. We're going to get you dressed up as Morgan, and you're going to send him some seriously X-rated pictures. He's going to be so hard for you before he even gets a chance to say no that I bet he never would!"
"Sexting? Are you nuts?"
"No, I'm not nuts! I know sexting is normally a stupid idea, but that's only because you normally can't trust a guy. If you really, truly believe that Craig would never take the pictures and post them on the internet, then this idea checks all the boxes. And getting back to the original point, Becky, you CANNOT just stay in this holding pattern. It's starting to tear you up inside."
