Page 6 of Hot Four Teacher (The Lawson’s #4)

Chapter six

Guys Should come with Warning Labels

Michelle

D o you understand how hard it is to sit around a table and listen to three other women talk about how amazing their sex lives are? I know they aren’t trying to brag or anything petty like that. We’ve just all been drinking and telling wild stories.

I wish I had something wild to share, but I’ve been listening rather than talking. All of my sexual conquests could probably be shared in the span of a very short conversation.

Eve was conceived in under five minutes. And both relationships I had after that were honestly pretty vanilla. Sure, the sex felt good, but I’m pretty sure they both had someone on the side that was getting the highlights of their efforts.

Nothing I’ve had compares to what my sisters are talking about.

Their men apparently really care about their pleasure.

They care to the point of multiple orgasms. I’ve never even had one by a man.

Well, there was one, but I did the majority of the work while he just licked me a couple of times. I don’t think that counts.

As I sit here and listen to things I don’t have, I keep on sipping on the giant fishbowl.

And then another.

And another after that.

Soon enough, I am feeling no pain. My thoughts swirl, one morphing right into the next without much cohesion to any of them. The one common theme between them is that they’re all dirty.

While my sisters tell stories, I fantasize about stories I wish I could tell. Fantasizing isn’t something I do all that often–mainly because it’s just a reminder of what I’m missing. It’s easier not to think about it.

But now, the rum coursing through me has brought down the walls inside my brain so that the dirty thoughts are taking over. All I can think about is having a guy remind me of exactly what I’m missing. Someone to rattle my cage as Ronnie likes to say.

I know this could be a double-edged sword. I could find someone who could curl my toes, but I could also find another colossal disappointment. Either way, maybe I could get it out of my system.

Usually, I wouldn’t be one to go out looking for a hook-up. Hell, I am not one to go out in general. But right now, this idea is sounding better and better. The alcohol is making me far more brazen than I’m used to.

While my sisters continue to gab, I start looking around to see if there are any hotties lurking around. We are at Giddy Ups, so I’m not sure I’ll have a ton of luck.

The first guy that catches my eye has curly, sandy blonde hair and sun kissed skin. He’s cute, but I’m pretty sure he’s at least a few years younger than me.

Who cares? It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy.

Listen to me. I’m starting to sound like Ronnie.

Looking at him, I can’t tell if I think he’d be good at it or a frat guy who only thinks he’s good at it. I guess there’s really no way to tell.

Guys should really come with warning labels.

Warning: This man will only last two pumps before leaving you completely unsatisfied.

Or…

Warning: This man will fuck you so good you may not be able to walk tomorrow.

But now, it’s a guessing game where more often than not, you’re left disappointed.

Despite my reservations, I still want to see what kind of trouble I can get into…even if only to prove that I’m not some boring old lady bound to die alone.

I look back at the cute guy with the sandy hair. But now, he’s accompanied by a woman who is currently shoving her tongue down his throat.

Okay, never mind.

The next guy I see who isn’t already with someone is out on the small dance floor, wearing what is maybe the largest cowboy hat I’ve ever seen.

No thanks.

Maybe it’s a lost cause at Giddy Ups.

As I suck down some more of the fishbowl, I keep glancing around the room, slowly losing hope.

Then, something catches my eye. There’s a guy sitting with a friend at a corner table. I can’t really see the friend because his back is to me. It doesn’t matter. The first guy is what I’m interested in.

He has dark buzz-cut hair coupled with a thick, dark beard.

He is slightly leaned back in his chair with his large arms crossed over his chest. His biceps look freaking huge and tattoos snake up and down the exposed skin.

He has a broad chest and a thick frame. I can’t see how tall he is, but I assume it’s tall enough.

My eyes stay locked on him as he seems to be listening intently to what the other guy is saying, but he must feel the weight of my gaze because he glances over at me.

At first, it’s quick as though he’s just trying to feel whose eyes are on him.

It occurs to me that I probably seem like a total creeper.

I’m just about to look away when he stares back at me.

His piercing eyes meet mine. I’m not sure if I should feel awkward.

Probably. But the alcohol is stifling my embarrassment.

This time, his eyes linger, and he gives me a sexy smile.

It takes a minute for my mind to catch up to tell my mouth to smile back.

When I do, Ronnie takes notice. “Why the hell are you cheesing?” She turns her head to follow my gaze. “Oh, I see.”

Everyone else turns to look as well, prompting me to slap my hand on the table to try to get their attention. But it doesn’t work, and now, my hand hurts.

Thankfully, the guy went back to looking at his friend.

“Guys!” I snap, getting them all to turn back to me. “We were just looking at each other, and he smiled, so I smiled back.”

Leah asks, “Do you think he’s cute?”

“Duh,” my mouth answers before my brain even has time to process the question.

“Okay, go talk to him,” Ronnie says.

“What?” I cry. “Why would I do that?”

“Uh, because the whole reason for you coming out tonight was to have fun and let loose. I’m guessing that guy could help you do both of those things.”

“But he’s with his friend. I don’t want to be rude.”

Ronnie looks back over. “Looks like his friend is leaving.”

I turn my head and see that she’s right. The other man is standing up to put his jacket on. The hottie stands up too, and I feel a slight pang of disappointment, thinking he’s about to leave. But he just gives a quick hug to his friend before sitting back down.

Ronnie says, “Problem solved. Now go.”

“What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to tell him I’m a single mom that hasn’t been laid in over ten years?”

Her face contorts. “Dear God, no! Just go over there and flirt. That’s it. Don’t tell him any detail of your sob story.”

“But what if–”

She cuts me off. “Michelle Dianne Lawson, you listen to me. You aren’t looking for a husband. You’re just looking to have a few laughs and maybe an orgasm or two. That’s it. He doesn’t need to know any of the serious stuff.”

I don't say this often, but Ronnie may have a point. I wanted to come out tonight to get out of my comfort zone. I’m not doing that by sitting here with my sisters.

As I wage a war within my mind, Ronnie says, “You better get up and go over there, or I will, and I’ll embarrass the shit out of you.”

I laugh, but when she starts to get up, I stop her. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”

When my feet hit the ground, I have to steady myself a little before willing my legs to carry me to my intended destination.

Just do it, Michelle. What’s the worst that could happen?

Oh lord, don’t open that can of worms.

Just breathe.

As I get closer to his table, he looks at me and smiles again.

The alcohol spurs on my confidence as I step next to his table and say, “Hi.”

“Hi,” his deep voice practically purrs.

“I saw you over there because I was…you know…staring.”

He chuckles before I go on.

“I thought I’d come over and say hi.”

My nerves are making the butterflies in my stomach take flight. They go even more crazy when he says, “I’m glad you did. I hung around after my buddy left, hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you.”

I find myself smiling like a fool as he asks, “Would you like to sit down?”

Before I even answer, he stands up to pull out the chair for me.

“Thank you,” I tell him as I take a seat.

“I’m Dane.”

“Michelle.”

We sit awkwardly for a moment before he asks if I want a drink. I tell him I’ll take anything fruity. He excuses himself to go to the bar.

My phone chimes from my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from Ronnie.

Look, we are over here keeping an eye on you, but if you want to get out of here with Mr. Hottie, just text me the word BANANA.

Why banana?

I think that’s self-explanatory.

Ronnie, I highly doubt I’m going to leave with him.

I type the words, but there’s still a tiny voice in my head telling me how nice an orgasm would be. I’m pretty sure that tiny voice is the rum talking. It must be in cahoots with my vagina.

Ronnie texts back.

That’s okay too. If you do leave with him, I’ll have my phone all night. Text me if you need anything at all, and I’ll come running.

A hint of a smile touches my lips. She may be younger than me, and she may be annoying, but damnit, she’s a great sister.

Before I can say anything else, Dane returns to the table. He hands me a large frozen drink with a crazy straw and a tiny umbrella.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Honestly, I’m not exactly sure. I told the bartender I wanted something fruity. It got me a weird look, but I hope it tastes good.”

I giggle and take a drink. “Delicious. I need you to know that I’m not usually this forward, but I feel like I’m in a rut.”

He nods. “I get that. For what it’s worth, I like that you were forward. If you didn’t make the first move, I know I would have.”

“Really?”

“Really. You look incredible.”

I feel myself blushing like a fucking teenager. I look at him and see that his eyes are a gorgeous crystal blue. They’re stunning.

And now that we are closer, I can see just how big his biceps are and how broad his chest is. He’s a beast of a man and completely different from the guys I’ve dated in the past.

This is a man.

I wonder in what other ways Dane would be different than the other guys I’ve dated in the past.

There’s only one way to find out.

“Dane, I’m going to say something that’s going to sound a little crazy.”

His lips curl into a half-smile. “I’m listening.”

“Like I said, I quite literally never do this, but I came out tonight to get out of my comfort zone.” I take another long drink to gain some more courage. “Dane, I haven’t gotten laid in a very long time.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me.

I’m not sure why I’m telling him this, but apparently, I’m not finished.

“I have no clue where this night is going to go, but maybe we could find out. Maybe you and I could have a no-pants party.”

My mind screams at me to stop, but the rum is louder.

Way louder.

“I need to have some fun with a guy who can make it worth my while…if you know what i mean.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

At this point, I’m not even sure who I am. My body has been taken over by a very brazen, very horny woman.

Dane finally speaks, asking, “And you want me to be that guy?”

“Yes!” I exclaim a little too quickly. “I mean, if you want to be that guy.”

Waiting for his response makes me feel like I’m going to be sick. You know what? That may be the alcohol too.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. How about you and I finish our drinks and get to know each other better? After that, if you still want to, I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want.”

I swallow the lump in my throat at his dirty words. I’ve never had a guy say things like that.

I think I liked it.

He asks, “How does that sound?”

Great. Amazing. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Sounds good,” I say. “Just give me one second.”

Pulling out my phone, I type in one word and send it to Ronnie.

BANANA.