Lex (Unconventional Hearts) (3 page)

Knowing full and well I will not negotiate,
Daniel has already left. We are friends, but he understands fully
that I am his boss first, his friend second. He’s worked here with
me the past year as he completed college. I paid for most of it.
He’s a nice fella, and his loyalty to me is unbreakable. You can’t
buy the kind of love and friendship we share.

Gazing at the clock on the wall, its minute
hand claims quarter past six, and my stomach audibly growls. I need
dinner. Pulling up my contacts on my computer, I find Dolly’s and
click send. My work phone clicks on its speaker as it rings to my
second favorite restaurant in town, and this one delivers.

“Ms. Keagan, working late again?” she greets,
I’d know her voice anywhere. It’s Dolly, the owner of Dolly’s Dairy
Dream. It’s a cute, mom and pop owned dairy bar about three streets
over from my house, and she delivers for her favorite customers.
Thankfully, I happen to be one of them.

“You know me so well.” I chuckle, running my
hands through my hair as I relax in my chair. My shoes, I took off
long ago and are sitting under my desk.

“Yes, honey, I’ve know you for years. Now let
me guess, you want a chicken Caesar wrap, seasoned curly fries and
a fat free chocolate and peanut butter shake, extra thick.”

Suppressing my need to laugh at the
extra
thick
comment, I agree to the order and hang up with a sweet
goodbye before she starts in on trying to pair me up with her
nephew Randall. Nice guy, doormat material, not my type, even if I
was thinking of venturing out. I’m guessing if he knew the real me,
he’d probably agree I’m not his type either.

Working some more on my computer, my email
pings four more times, which means I am now up to thirty-three
messages on my online dating account with Matchmakerhaven.com. Roni
selected the site, said a girl in our lotions department met her
fiancé there three years ago. It’s a small town, where everybody
knows everybody. This means, they are fully acquainted with most
people’s business. If you let them know anything valuable, gossip
spreads like wildfire. My lack of love life is the only thing the
town has been able to pin on me, which is how I like it.

The call bell to the outside door rings,
which means my food has arrived. Good, I’m starving.

Leaving my shoes, I pad barefoot out of my
door and down the small hallway to the front where the reception
desk sits. I unlock the glass door, allowing Randall in. You
know…the doormat, nephew. See, case and point. He doesn’t even work
for Dolly; he’s a carpenter. Tall, tan and lean, and still not my
type.

“You look lovely.” He states, handing me the
white paper bag containing my dinner. He stands at least six one.
However, he’s as soft and gentle as a pussy cat.

“Thanks, Randall.” I wink at him, making him
blush. Such a shy guy.

Exchanging a few more pleasantries out of
courteousness, I clasp him over the shoulder and see him to the
door. I give him a two finger wave as he takes his Jeep back home.
If I know Dolly, like I think I do, I’m pretty sure she called him
as soon as I spoke with her and made him come deliver my order. The
forever matchmaker, that sweet ol’ woman.

With a wry smile planted on my face, I go
back into my office, steal my phone from my desk and plug it into
the iPod speaker dock on the wet bar. Time to work some more, maybe
delete all those…what I’m pretty sure are stupid and immature
emails, and listen to some music. I enjoy only two kinds of music.
Country, especially the older stuff like Johnny Cash and Loretta
Lynn and I also—please don’t have a heart attack, like heavy metal.
Ironic combination, but my mom made me listen to the likes of Willy
Nelson and Patsy, growing up, and as an adult, I’ve taken to heavy
metal as well. I’m not talking death metal. Just stuff like
Drowning Pool, Mushroom Head, Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails,
music like that.

Scrolling rapidly through my music selection,
I come upon what I was looking for and it’s perfect for the kind of
day I’ve had. The
Queen of the Damned
soundtrack, pretty
decent movie, even better soundtrack; if you’ve never listened, you
really should. It’s rather intense but euphorically seamless.

Immediately my senses are sexually jolted
with “Not Meant for Me.” I love this music; the sensual rhythm gets
me all hot and bothered, turning me on. Ignoring my bodies’
deception, I take my food and sit back behind my desk. With my body
flooding with too much rampant desire, I’m already angry with
myself for picking this soundtrack without having Daniel here. Not
my brightest move.

I’m not fixing this torturous throbbing. It
will have to go away on its own or I’ll have Daniel fix me in the
morning. My email pings again and I’m not sure if it’s my hormones
or this orgasmic French fry I’m nibbling, but I get the urge to at
least peruse through those emails. I’m not oblivious to men being
attracted to me. It’s common knowledge. I’m not smug about it. If
anything, I find it unnerving. I’m a slightly curvaceous woman,
with, like I said before, fake boobs. I wear a size six in jeans—if
that tells you much of anything. My stomach is completely flat,
with scars, and I have a medium sized butt. Looking at me, no one
would say I have childbearing hips. They’re not childbearing in any
sense of the word. Also, my entire body is hairless except my head,
eyebrows and lashes. No arm hair, leg hair, underarm hair, or other
places hair. I had it all removed by electrolysis four years ago,
when I got tired of shaving on a daily basis. It was painful, but
nothing I haven’t been through before. You might find that
superficial, but I promise you it’s not. I needed it.

Decidedly, I ignore the emails piling in my
inbox and go straight to the source. Typing the website in my
browser and checking my message box from there. Good grief men,
this is a bit overwhelming. Their profile pictures and ages posted
below them tell me enough to know that I have the whole gambit of
ages to pick from, if I decided to.

Okay, John11433 what do you have to say?

Clicking open, his email.

Oh boy! This isn’t what I was expecting. A
file has been attached and yes, you’ve probably guess by now
what
I am getting a rather
large
eyeful of. Do these
men have no shame? Seriously, yuck!

Deleting and blocking the sick pervert, I
roll my eyes, exasperated. I can’t believe men think any type of
woman, minus hookers, would want an introduction with a dick pic.
Puh-lease….
That
is what porn is for
,
I should know.
I’ve watched my fair share of it over the years. I don’t want to
see Joe Schmooze’s or in this case, John’s dick. I’m sorry. It’s
not on my bucket list of things to see. It’s not the eighth wonder
of the world. It’s gross, end of story.

Moving along, I delete the emails of men that
I know would never hold any interest. For example, a man who’s
screen name is
bigdaddyballs
who’s in his fifties, even if
he was my age he wouldn’t just be a
no
he’d be a raving
hell no
. I’m really tired of this already and I want to kill
Roni for putting me up to this. Arg! I could really use something
other than my delicious chocolate peanut butter milkshake. Maybe a
glass of wine or a shot of Patrón would hit the spot, anything to
make me not want to shoot myself, because this online dating thing
is torture.

Ending my frustration by diminishing my email
list down to three suitable specimens with no photo attachments, I
disregard the angry knot of anxiety wrenching in my stomach and I
power on. I’ve started it and now it’s time to finish it. Then I
will be shutting down this stupid account and ream Roni for
pressing me to do something I only did for her, to get her
bitchiness off my back. Women with PMS are seriously not to be
trifled with, especially her. She’s a witch when Aunt Flo
arrives.

Time to have at it.

Email numero uno – this should be
interesting.

From: BrandonHurt69

To: Lotionlady316 Monday 9:19 a.m

Well, hello Gorgeous,

DELETE! Next…..

From: SuitMaster6979

To: Lotionlady316 Monday 1:12 p.m.

Hello, Lotionlady316,

To be honest I’m not sure what I’m supposed
to write in these types of emails. It’s always awkward and followed
by even more awkwarder (is that even a word? Lol)
correspondents.

So, I’m going to accept my fate in knowing
this is probably uncomfortable for both of us and I will tell you
what I came to say.

Honesty is the best policy. Therefore, I’m
not going to lie and say your profile picture of a beautiful woman
didn’t catch my attention. It did. However, that is not why I am
writing you now. It seems that by reading your profile you are a
rarity among online dating. You have brains, beauty, and you are an
Edgar Allen Poe fan. Yes, I got the subtlety in your statement
‘Sometimes I wonder if all that we see or seem is but a dream
within a dream.’ That’s a great quote.

I realize my profile on here is rather vague
and lacking the profound picture. However, after I spent the past
six months searching for a woman and only getting emails from
women, commenting on certain aspects of my looks and not of what I
had created in terms of a profile. I decided that I would only seek
and refuse to be sought. Hence, my profile is now private to others
to view unless I email them first. I’m a man who follows the old
ways, and feel that a man should court a woman. Chivalry is not
dead in my eyes. In addition, as much as I know my words may
express, by this time you are probably ready to delete this message
in fear I am full of it. I’m not, I promise you this. And if you
give me the time to show you, I would be most grateful to receive
an awkwarder email in response. If not, I bid you adieu and wish
you best of luck with your online dating endeavors.

Sincerely, the Suit Master

P.S. The 6979 at the end of my user name is
not a sexual innuendo. It’s my birthday, just in case you were
wondering.

Ok, wow, how do you respond to something
frank, intriguing, yet so vague? He’s right; he doesn’t have an
attached photo. His profile picture is of a dog. When signing up it
was mandatory to provide a photo. So, if I had to guess, that cute
lab in the picture is probably his dog. I’ve always loved dogs,
just never been a dog owner myself. And I must say I am glad that
he clarified that 6979 isn’t some sex freakiness. It’s his
birthday. Which will make him thirty-five this year. My birthday
was last month and I just turned twenty-eight. That’s not that much
of a difference in age. Brian my ex was twelve years older than I
am. Maybe I should stick to men my age? Or, how about none at all?
Yes, that sounds more promising.

Closing down The Suit Masters email, I only
have one left.

From: LarryCFish

To: Lotionlady316

Monday 3:13 p.m.

Lex, I didn’t know you would be online
dating. I haven’t seen you in ages. I know you probably don’t
remember me. But, we went to the same high school together. Names
Larry Fisher, but most people called me Corey.

I moved back to the area a few months ago
after a painful divorce. Thought since you are on here you might be
interested in going to dinner with me sometime? Just as friends and
to catch up. I don’t expect anything. It’s just nice to know I’m
not the only one from our graduating class to be actively seeking
partnership. Hope all is well and I look forward to hearing from
you.

Yes, Corey, I remember him from high school.
He was what we would all call the nerdy jock. He read books; quoted
Shakespearean sonnets and women ate from the palm of his giant man
hands. He played football and basketball and was the captain of the
debate team. Also, if I remember correctly, he knocked up Maryanne,
his girlfriend and they had a daughter together as soon as they
graduated. Maybe that’s who he divorced. But, the main thing I
remember about Corey is he was the funny, gossip guy, the forever
chatterbox. Not sure if that’s a good type of man to be talking
with. Although, I guess emailing him back wouldn’t hurt. Sorry,
Suit Master, I’m going to stick with someone else. Good luck, maybe
you’ll find a woman on here.

Resting my wrists on my desk, I ready my
fingers and decide now is as good as time as ever to email Corey.
So I do. It’s short and sweet and maybe I’ll actually have
something to do this weekend besides sit at home reading and
watching reruns of
The Walking Dead
or
Bones
. Two
shows that I absolutely love. That David Boreanaz is one hunk of a
man. I especially loved him back when he played Angel. Buffy was an
idiot when she said goodbye to him.

Clicking send on my email, I shut down my
computer and peer up to the clock. Great, I have spent the past
hour on this stupid dating site. I got most of my work done that I
had to get done today. If I go home now, Roni should be in her own
bed, in her own apartment. So I’ll probably be able to steer clear
until our morning tea.

Sliding my heels on and snatching my purse
from inside one of my desk drawers. I head out. I’m looking forward
to catching some much needed shuteye.

Chapter Four

Beep, Beep, Beep.

Oh, come on! I don’t want to get up; I’m
exhausted.

This entire week I’ve stayed at work until
nine. Daniel even stayed late on Wednesday to help me
come
for the second time that day. I’ve been overwhelmed with work and
let’s face it, we all know orgasms relax you.

Thursday I received an email back from Corey,
and we are planning on meeting for lunch today. Not in Heartfair
though. I don’t want the gossip spreading that I officially have a
beau. When I say, we have a small town and people talk. They do.
I’m sure Dolly would be calling me within the hour to ask a flurry
of questions. And I have to tell my mom before I leave. My mom is
rarely home so I will be going to her store today.