Quinn 5.
Looking outside my home office window, I take in the sunshine and blue skies and sigh. Normally, my headaches are from shitty weather, messing with my sinuses, but maybe today’s is just from stress. Nerves. A riot of murderous butterflies that have taken up residence in my stomach.
I’m 36 and I’ve only been on a handful of dates, and most of them in the last few weeks. Except I selected those dates after carefully reviewing their online dating profile, not that it made a difference in weeding out the weirdos. Big Sturgill…enough said. My date tonight is completely unknown to me, and Betty chose him. What criteria does she consider important when choosing a date for a friend of the club?
“Ahhh!” I whisper-scream, even though I’m alone in the house. I can’t believe I agreed to this. After everything that’s happened with Ford, and the dates I’ve already had, I really should be taking the idea of becoming a nun more seriously. I rub my hands over my face, digging my knuckles into my eye sockets.
Huh. My face feels…there is no feeling in my face. I click the mouse, log out momentarily, and step across the hall to the bathroom. The left side of my face is slack. I force my lips into a smile, but the left side doesn’t budge. What the hell? Back at my computer, I open a web browser and type in “headaches and facial paralysis”. Ok, Bell’s Palsy. That’s not terrible…right?
Grabbing my phone, I scroll in my contacts and press the button to connect. Polk answers on the second ring.
“Quinny.”
“Hey, Polk. Sorry, I know you’re busy.”
“I always got time for you, Quinny.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“So, quick medical question.”
“What’s wrong, Quinn? Is it the boys?”
“It’s nothing, just…I get headaches, have for years from the weather. And I have one today, but…um…”
“Quinn, what is it?” Dammit, his smile is gone and now I’m scaring him.
“I can’t feel my face.” There is a long pregnant pause. “And when I looked in the mirror, it’s all slack. I’m nervous about tonight. Nerves can cause facial paralysis, right?”
“Normal? No, Quinn, it’s not. I need you to go to the hospital right now.”
“Polk, don’t overreact. I’m not going to the hospital.”
“I’m not overreacting, Quinn. This is serious.”
I know it is, it’s just…I don’t want to deal with this right now. “Ok.” I hear him sigh in relief. “I’ll go tomorrow if I still can’t feel my face.”
“No, Quinn, now. Go now.” The sound of dogs barking gets louder before I hear a door shut and then it’s quiet again. “I can reschedule my patients and come get you—”
“Absolutely not, Polk. I’m sorry, I bothered you. I know you’re busy. It’s probably nothing. I’ll go tomorrow, I promise, if I don’t feel better. But I have a few more hours of work and then I have to get ready.”
He mutters something, then growls, “Get ready for what?”
His tone, I don’t think I want to answer, it seems stupid now. “I have a blind date.”
“Quinn—” Oh my! I glance down at my traitorous nipples as they harden instantly inside my bra. His voice…the texture . I didn’t know voices had textures. Rough. Raw. Delicious. And totally inappropriate since I have a date tonight.
“Thanks for your help, Polk. Have a great night! Byeeee!” I disconnect the call and log back into work. It’s nothing, I’m sure. He’s just being cautious. I shake my head at myself, glare at my boobs and place my hands over them to push my nipples into compliance. Now is NOT the time.
A few hours later, I am happy to report, I can feel my face again. I’m gonna chalk it up to nerves. Now, if I could just get my headache to go away, I’d be golden. Marco checks in with me by text, he and his brothers are at the clubhouse with Audrey. I take a thorough shower, shave my legs and neaten up my lady garden. I’m not sure what to expect tonight, but I’d like to be prepared. I certainly don’t want to embarrass Betty or the club. I grin taking the tags off the new bra and panties set. I bought a few of them when I started dating again. No one else has seen them but me. They make me feel beautiful. Sexy, even. A little boost to my confidence. The lace is soft against my skin, feminine. Knee-length flowy black skirt, royal blue and black printed scoop neck top and royal blue kitten heels to match. I’m 5’9”, so I don’t want too much height, but the slight heel makes my calves look amazing. Shoulder length blond messy bob, light makeup, and dangly earrings. I swish back and forth in front of the mirror on the back of my bedroom door and giggle like a schoolgirl. Well, if this date is a bust, at least I look good.
I turn the volume up to an obscene level in the car and rock out on the drive to the restaurant. I sing loud enough to scare the butterflies in my stomach and manage not to puke on the way.
“Hello, welcome to Quatro Hombres Malos . How many in your party this evening?” The young hostess smiles at me when I open the doors.
“I’m here…I’m meeting someone.” I smile nervously. “Uh, it’s under…his name is…shit, what’s his name? Oh, Lenny! His name is Lenny.” God, I hope I don’t struggle this hard to speak once I’m seated. She tilts her head to the side, running her dark gaze up and down my body.
“Good for you.” She winks, turns on her heels and beckons me to follow. Not sure how to respond to whatever that was, so I keep my mouth shut. I glance around the restaurant. It’s decently busy, bar is packed, and the food that’s being circulated by the busy waitstaff smells amazing. “Here you are. Enjoy your meal!”
This can’t be right. “Oh! No, there must be—”
“Quinn?” Boy, oh boy. Literally. The person standing from the booth the hostess left me at is definitely a boy. How old is he? Did his parents drop him off? Are they waiting at another table? My head swivels as I try to find an excited or disappointed couple staring at us…nothing. I swallow hard, my hand squeezing the stuffing out of my purse.
I manage to force my mouth into motion, “Lenny?” He nods emphatically, licks his full bottom lip, and bites into it while his eyes are glued to my chest. The girls look good, I know that. The hostess knows that. Lenny knows that. But it’s awkward now because he’s like…Oh my God, he can’t be much older than Marco! I’m a fucking cradle robber and Betty needs to be locked up. What the hell was she thinking? “What time is your curfew?” I blurt out, slapping a hand over my mouth instantly.
Luckily, Lenny laughs, finally meeting my eyes. He’s so young, but handsome. “My dorm doesn’t really have a curfew.”
“Dorm? As in college? Or boarding school? God, please say college.”
“Quinn, why don’t you sit down.” I slide into the booth gracelessly, like a boneless blob. My head pounds and the left side of my face tingles. “I’m in my last year at University of Cincinnati. I’m studying Exercise Science to be a personal trainer.” My eyes run over his broad rounded shoulders, the strain of his t-shirt over his upper arms, and the definition of his defined pecs. Yeah, personal trainer fits…and it fits well . Stop it! He’s a child!
“What—What are you doing?” I question when he stands suddenly from his side of the booth and switches to mine. He slides in next to me, with effortless grace, and lifts his arm behind my head to rest on the top of the booth.
“Testing out a theory.” He whispers, his warm cinnamon breath ghosts across my lips seconds before he presses his mouth to mine. He’s kissing me. No, scratch that. He’s devouring me. And, I’ll be honest, my body lights up like a fucking pinball machine, but it doesn’t feel right. It feels good, but not right. And damn me for needing it to feel right. I place my hand over his chest, intending to push him away, and I do, but not before petting him a little. He’s purty.
“Lenny. Stop.” He pushes his face against my neck, his tongue tracing up my sensitive skin, causing me to shiver, despite the heat. He hums to let me know he heard me but continues to lick along my neck and up to my ear. “I just…this is… damn .”
Lenny lifts his head; his eyes are dark pools when they meet mine. “You’re as edible as I thought you’d be.” Oh. Oh. What the fuck is happening right now? Did I hit my head? Am I unconscious and dreaming? No, can’t be a dream. I wouldn’t feel this guilt if it was a dream.
“Lenny, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what Betty told you—”
“She told me you were beautiful, but she—”
Holy shit, really? “Betty told you I was beautiful?” I giggle, my face heating at the compliment, “I can’t believe she’d say that, how sweet.” I forcefully shake my head to get back on track, “Not the point. I’m a divorced mother of three. My eldest is 12 years old. My life is after-school activities, homework, and forcing them to shower so they don’t smell like onions. I want to say I’m capable of casual, but I’d be lying out of my ass if I did.”
Lenny nods in understanding, a friendly smile tipping his tasty lips. Not tasty. Adolescent. He deftly slides back to his side of the booth and picks up his menu. “Yeah, I figured, that’s why I kissed you.”
“What?”
He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, “Figured I wouldn’t get a chance later, thought I’d shoot my shot now.”
I think I heard him wrong. “You want…you want… you’re attracted to me?”
“Epic tits,” he replies casually, then flips his menu to the other side.
“Oh, well, thank you.” I sit up straight in the booth because posture is important and if said, “epic tits” happen to be thrust forward as a result, well then…coincidence.
“You’re welcome. I happen to like women who are older than me, but I’ve got a lot going on right now and I’m not in a place for any type of commitment.”
“That’s very mature of you to know that about yourself, Lenny. Most adults I know aren’t that self-aware.”
“When you look like I do, you learn to be upfront and direct about intentions. My car has been keyed, tires slashed and had piss in my gas tank one too many times.”
“How did they piss in your gas tank? I can’t even fill a sample cup at the doctors without getting it all over my hand. Who has that kind of urinary control over their vagina?”
Lenny sits back in the booth and laughs. “I think they used a funnel.”
“Who carries funnels around with them? What kind of people are you spending time with?”
“Alright, Quinn. So, I know your tits are spectacular, you smell good, and your mouth tastes delicious…but what do you know about statistics?”