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So, with this in mind, I text ThatGuy again.
And I tell him I'll send it all right over.
15
Daire
The ‘bucket list’ I snatched from Lola’s planner leaves a lot to be desired. So many of the things on here are such simple, everyday things that I almost feel bad that she hasn't experienced them. Until I sit back and think about the fact that I haven't really, either.
Some of them I did experience after doing my time, mostly when I was too drunk to remember. But Lola should experience these things. She should cross every single one of them off and then add some more.
I tap my finger down the list, mentally checking off the ones I can accomplish with little to no effort. Those are for another day. It's time to pull out the big guns. If I’m going to follow through with my plans and make every other guy that’s out there look like a shmuck, then I need to step up my game.
Fucking Lola is fun, but fucking her for always is what dreams are made of.
I pause on item number twenty-six on the list. It's going to take a few phone calls. But I think I can make it happen. Between that and item number thirty-nine, I think I'll have a home run.
Now all that's left to do is make it happen.
Item numbertwenty-six turned out to be more of a challenge than expected. But after a copious amount of phone calls and some networking, I found a way.
I've never worked this hard to please anyone else before. In the end, I wonder if it will matter. Lola thinks she’s in charge. She would like to believe that she’s calling the shots. There are only a couple weeks left of this arrangement, according to her. I need to make them count. I need to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget. So I find my balls and text her.
It's already been two days since I've seen her. Ideally, I'd be with her every day. But I can't control my urges when she's around, and I'm having trouble convincing her otherwise. Despite what Lola might think, she is more than just a receptacle for my dick.
My text is simple. A day and time. She returns my message with a smiley face. Yeah, that's right. Fuck you, Damon. I can get smiley faces too.
I text her back.
Don't wear any panties.
Well, at least I tried the whole gentleman thing.
She sends me another emoji this time. One with a gaping mouth. But that isn't a no. And suddenly, I can't fucking wait for Saturday.
When the day arrives, there's nothing that can rain on my parade. I get my hair cut. I shave. I even throw on a tee shirt and jeans since Lola thinks I don't own anything other than a suit. When I pick her up, it's her that has the gaping mouth.
"Wow," she marvels. "You look so different like this."
"I look the same as I always have," I tell her. "You knew me long before my suit days."
"Yes, but I haven't seen you without in so long. Years. I thought all your other clothes were extinct."
I let my eyes roam over her. "You look like a wet dream." And she does. She's wearing another fitted dress. Fuchsia with a black cardigan and matching heels. She surprisingly matches. And I like her like this, but I also miss my little fashion nightmare.
"So where are we going?"
She's nervous again, and I want to capitalize on it because I am still a man. The whole romance thing is nice, but I need to know if Lola is my dirty girl. I reach down and brush my fingers against her thigh. She stops breathing as they climb up her leg, shoving the material aside.
Her eyes are darting around the hallway, seeking out intruders. I'm almost to heaven when she tries to protest and a door slams down the hall. I don't care. I cup her pussy, and she's bare.
Fuck. Yes.
I kiss her. She falls into me, and her body goes slack. My hand is still between her thighs when footsteps echo down the hall, and it's too late to pull away without being obvious. So I pull her closer, hiding the evidence as the voyeur closes in on us.
"Oh hi, Mrs. Needleman," Lola squeaks.
"Hi Lola," the older woman replies. "Nice to see you're uh... dating."
