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Going out with one guy for years, but a guy with dreams and no get up and go? What was I thinking? I’ve only slept with him, and that is likely my downfall.

In saying that, he should have known how to make me come. Or cared about making me reach orgasm.

I sigh, as I drive, and I watch the world go by. I have already left Maryland, and I’m in New Jersey. As I push towards New York City, I look at my half-eaten sandwich, and cold coffee. I then see my stack of books.

They give me comfort, and a couple of them are about women on adventures. Being underconfident keeps me on edge, and I don’t like it.

I’ve not travelled far from home before, and I’ve only ever lived in South Carolina. One state, and one guy.

Going way out of my comfort zone is scary, exciting, and maybe, just maybe, healthy.

That is, unless things turn to shit!

Anyway, it’s time to put my English literature degree to work, even if I’m more into graphic design, now.

Working in NYC’s world-class library will rock. As a book lover, I know that, but I want to push my graphic design work, all the way, and meet areal man.

Also, have great sex.

Really great sex,and explorative sex.

I think about my past, stale relationship, and the vanilla sex. As I sigh, I wonder what the men will be like in NYC. If they would be kind, gentle, orcommanding.

I’ve read a few romance books, Madison, put me onto. Hot as all hell. Wet. And wild. Yikes.

As I gulp, I’m unsure if the guys in NYC would command me and make me come for them.

Just as my clit starts throbbing, my cell chimes. It’s Mom. I reach over, hit answer, and speaker.

“Hi dear. All safe and good?”

“Fine Mom, and thanks.”

“Where are you, Sweetheart?”

“Just in New Jersey. Almost there!”

“Well done, and just take your time. Now, I have the information on that place.”

I shake my head with the madness. The idea of staying with some friend of the family, is so not me. I hate awkward. I will get a cheap place, and fast. “Thanks, Mom, but you know… ”

“Listen, dear. It’s a free room, and you should consider it. His name is Lorenzo St Clair, and he’s supposedly, a lovely, and charming man.”

Dear God.

“Why does this feel like a bad idea?”

“It doesn’t, and you’re just being silly. Now, he’s done rather well for himself so his place may be safe, for lack of a better way to put it. He works in media, movies and technologies.”

I sigh, and I imagine a nerdy tech geek like Zuckerberg.

“Anyway. The address I have, says penthouse, so it is likely nice! Now, I’ll tell Martha you will arrive tonight, and I’ll send you the address in a minute.”

“Mom, are you sure?”

“Darling, just stay one night at least. What harm can it do?”

There is silence, and the potential awkwardness worries me.