Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Plus, I’m going to have to make sure, somehow, that the girl’s not going to be ruined by me and my shitty past. After all, it’s not every day that you meet up with an ex-con at your local burger joint.
I continue through the weekend, going to the local garden center and buying some shrubs for my yard. But even as I keep busy digging and planting, my mind wanders often to HeartLove’s soft, curvy body, and I find myself really looking forward to next week. Because a man can dream, right? And after everything I’ve been through … I think I deserve a few dreams here and there.
8
Janie
All I’ve been able to think about all week is meeting EasyDude. Why did he want to wait a week? But I guess it makes sense because we don’t really know each other. Not really, even if it feels like we’ve been intimate already.
But even as I responded to Ying’s practice questions, I had to admit that having a week to prepare for this meeting was actually a welcome attribute. And so I spent each day after school, and after my homework, doing little things to make myself feel more confident on the day itself; painting my nails, putting on make-up, and most importantly, shaving my pussy.
It might be a little presumptuous to expect EasyDude to want to fuck me when he’s never actually met me in person, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, I’ve always hated the hair down there and longed to see what it would look like shaved. And when I finally did it and saw what my naked, shaved pussy felt like, I have to say I was happy with what I saw: I was puffy and pink, with just a tiny little bit of my clit visible at the top.
I’d also had some time to think about what I would wear, and even briefly considered that black silky dress Vivian had bought me, but the outfit was just a bit too much for a casual setting like the Burger Bistro. And so I slipped on a pair of silky panties, and put on a matching silk bra. I wore a new, cobalt blue summer dress, tapered at the waist, knee-length, with just a little bit of cleavage. With tits as huge as mine, there’s always a little cleavage no matter how much I try not to look like a milk maid.
My heart hammering in my chest, I park my car and get out before walking over to Burger Bistro. My knees, which feel like jelly, are barely able to support my weight, but I’m excited nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and step inside, with what I hope is a confident and sexy air. No such luck. I’m still Janie Martin, and I bump awkwardly into a small family that’s in the middle of exiting. Oops. I tuck my hair behind my ear, trying to regain my composure while looking around.
But there’s no one who fits EasyDude’s description. I glance around the booths and tables for jet-black hair and blue eyes, tattoos and muscles. It’s very crowded, and I curse myself silently, craning my head right and left. Stupidly, I realize EasyDude and I stupidly didn't think of discussing a shirt or dress color so we could find each other more easily. I scan each table and booth more carefully, but still, there’s no one.
Suddenly, the truth hits me. Maybe EasyDude’s not coming. Maybe this was a set-up, and he never had any intention of meeting me.
My heart plummets as I consider this possibility, and with each second that goes by, the dread in my chest grows heavier. EasyDude doesn’t want to meet me, not really. He was never interested, and in fact, is probably some lame thirteen year-old boy giggling even now at one of the tables.
Panic rises up in my throat and I start to hyperventilate a little with tears in my eyes. My hand reaches around blindly to grasp the door handle. I yank it open, ready to run out when suddenly the wooden slab gets stuck in place. Drat! What’s going on? Angrily, I shake it a little again but am stopped by a large male hand and the bluest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen.
Because it’s my gorgeous neighbor, Trent Lewis. I stand gaping up at him as he takes a step closer to me, his hand still flat on the door. He frowns down at me like he’s trying to figure something out, those dark brows furrowing over his piercing blue eyes. He’s standing so close that I can smell male cologne on his warm skin. I’m rooted to the spot and probably look like an idiot, gaping up at him like a fish out of water.