A private message from Chuck, 221 am.
“Trust me, I wish I could, but my body is convinced it’d rather be doing something else but sleep. There’s hardly anything I can do!”
“There’s only one thing you should be doing at this hour. And it shouldn’t involve being online.”
I paused and smiled to myself.
Chuck is the assistant coach to the tennis team I joined at the country club. He was nothing like the rest of the eager male morons trying to flaunt their wealth there. Instead, he was witty, funny and just about the perfect gentlemen. His tennis days have served him well with those remarkable abs. In fact, he has such a handsome face that it is difficult to deny. Tall, tanned and toned. Very difficult to ignore, I’d got to admit.
“You’re right…guess I could do with a guy now…”
“Honey, what were you thinking? I do mean supper! :) ”
I’ve had my fair share of bad boys. Being in the modeling industry meant it was easy to get who and what I wanted and I’ve always been attracted especially to the bad boys; the kind of men who’ll take you there and then, rough, primitive and raw. And then there’s Chuck. Chuck’s just…different. He’s the kind of man who’ll insist to hold your door, or send you all the way home despite you staying on a different planet and he’s the kind who will go out of his way just to make sure you’re back safe.
“So…think you wanna do supper? I’ll pick you up and hmm, throw in the meal and ride home F.O.C so you’d say yes. Oh, and nobody says no to a free bodyguard right?”
“Haha, Chuck, you make me propositions I cannot refuse. Give me a ring when you get here.”
I quickly tossed my iPad away and decided on a navy polka dotted spag top and frayed denim shorts. I tied my hair into a loose knot and thought I’d wear my spectacles out. After all, Chuck is quite the geek. Highflying architect with a shiny red Volkswagen, just as I like it.
It seemed that Chuck had better plans than to head out. He arrived and greeted me with an awkward chagrin and shoved a bottle of tequila into my hands. “Pizza and tequila. Hmmm, think we’ve got a winner. Not bad, Chuck!”
We quickly got ourselves comfortable before the fireplace. At first our conversations were light and easy, mostly about Tennis and little gossips about the other arrogant brutes at the club but as the night went and the tempo of the alcohol buzz in our heads increased, our conversations grew heavy with dirty insinuations.