Undress Your Wounded Heart by Simone Monroe

Author:Simone Monroe [Monroe, Simone]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simone Monroe
Published: 2023-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

17

Date #5, Stavros

“I just thought it was a cool name, so I started using it,” Stavros explains.

We’re standing at the entrance to the Marina on the lake.

“So you legally changed your name?” I think about Tess, and how sometimes it’s nice to have an alternate identity.

“Naw.” He frowns. “Too much effort. On paper, I’m still Bert.”

Bert with a boat would have seemed like a much more intriguing dating prospect than Stavros, but I don’t say anything. I just smile and nod and wiggle my hips a bit. I guess Tess feels like since this guy has an alternate identity, she gets to be here, too.

Stavros grabs my waist. Fuzzy stiffens.

“Let’s go see The Mistletoe.” He guides me down the walkway toward his vessel. A light evening breeze knocks the hulls of resting boats against rubber bumpers on the wooden pier, creating a rhythmic sound to accompany the evening songs of birds along the shore. Stavros’ hand slides slowly down to my hip. Tongues of deep orange sunlight lap along the surface of the lake. Stavros wraps his fingers around my ass.

“Mmmmm,” he says. “You’ve got a lot going for you.”

He doesn’t look at me. I’m wearing a summer dress with my little white jacket, and the breeze tickles my bare chest. I button the top button of my jacket.

“No no no no no!” Stavros reaches over and unbuttons it, his fingertips grazing the contours of my cleavage.

“Don’t cover up your beauty,” he says. It sounds like a command. “You dressed up for me, so let me see you.”

Heat rises in my body, and I’m not sure whether I feel angry or aroused. Fuzzy isn’t sure, either. He starts to hop around aimlessly. I feel disconnected from the interaction, like I’m floating a few feet above the pier. Like I’m in one of Tess’s chats.

I imagine how she’d describe the situation, how she’d vividly detail what was going to happen next to titillate the client. Tess would tell Stavros to take her to his boat. She’d compliment him, point out his muscular arms, the toned, tan calves visible below the hem of his Bermuda shorts. The outline of his dick next to the inseam on his left leg.

Tess’s thoughts make Fuzzy nervous, so I distract them both by counting the boats, reciting their names in my mind as we walk past. Number ten: Lady Luck; number fifteen: Maggie May; number sixteen: Charisma…

When we get to his boat, number twenty-two, Stavros lets go of me and fumbles for the keys. The Mistletoe looks like an older vessel, but cared-for, like a pair of well-loved boots just freshly polished.

Once we’re inside, I see that it must have been top of the line when it was new, maybe twenty-five years ago. Mirrors cover nearly every surface, interspersed with mahogany.

Tess would love these mirrors. She’d strip off her clothes to show herself from every angle possible. She’d probably even get down on her knees and grovel like she’d think this kind of guy would expect her to do.

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