Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire (Single and Sassy in the city Book 2)

Sarah

Dear Diary,

Tequila is the devil. Or the drink of the devil. Or something like that. I swear that if I hadn’t had tequila, I wouldn’t have acted like the fool that only my friends know me to be.

Also, note to self: Boasting about your prowess as a stripper in a bar is not a good idea. Especially when you’ve never really been a stripper and are not interested in being one. Same goes for lap dancers. Saying that you once got a thousand dollars for a lap dance is not the flex you think it is when you’re drunk.

Especially not when the CEO of your company is sitting in a booth in the corner of the bar, watching and listening to the entire conversation.

Kill me now.

Shameful and hungover,

Sarah

‘This place is popping.’ Isabel grins as she bops her head back and forth in time with the music blasting through the open doorway of the bar. ‘We are going to have so much fun tonight.’ Her entire body is practically buzzing in excitement as we walk into the crowded bar. She looks me up and down and beams as she takes in my sexy, slightly uncomfortable outfit. It’s an outfit from when I was twenty pounds slimmer and ten years younger, but I wanted to sexy it up for the night. Something about being ignored by a hot guy makes you want to look your best. ‘You look so pretty, but I’m going to take your glasses off.’

‘What?’ I exclaim, shaking my head. I know my glasses make me look nerdy, but they are a part of me. ‘I won’t be able to see if you take my glasses off, and I kind of need to be able to see.’

‘You only need to be able to see if you’re going to make a mistake tonight, but I’m not going to let you make any mistakes.’

‘Isabel, no,’ I say as she grabs my glasses and takes them from me. I feel naked without them on my face. I reach up self-consciously to touch the side of my face. I miss having my glasses there. They are like a part of me.

‘Don’t worry. I won’t let you make out with anyone fugly and I won’t leave your side to make out with anyone myself.’ She cocks her head to the side. ‘Unless Bradley Cooper shows up and says he must have me right away.’ She licks her lips. ‘Or Brad Pitt. Or both of them. I’ve never been interested in a threesome before, but if they both want me, I don’t know that I’d be able to say no.’

‘Isabel,’ I whisper-shout, blinking my eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light of the bar. ‘I can see you and that’s about it. Everything else is blurry.’ I tap her shoulder. ‘Glasses, please?’

‘You’re able to see, right? Just not everything?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Just enjoy the night. Plus, you look absolutely gorgeous.’ Her eyes run up and down my face and body. ‘You’re the belle of the ball.’

‘This is not a ball.’

‘You’re Cinderella and your Prince Charming is going to see you and want to sweep you up into his arms because he can’t resist your stunning aura.’

‘You mean I look absolutely gorgeous without my glasses?’ I fake a frown. ‘So, with my glasses, I’m the ugly stepsister?’

‘No, silly. But why don’t you wear contacts?’

‘I told you why. They irritate my eyes, and I always feel like I’m going to lose an eye when I put them in and take them out.’

‘You just have to practice.’ She sighs deeply and motions putting contacts in and out of her eye. ‘When I first got contacts, I hated it, as well. But after the first month, I got used to it. You will get used to it, too. I can put them in and take them out in my sleep now.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ I shrug and look around the bar. It’s packed in here with wall-to-wall people from every sector. I can’t see many faces clearly, but I can make out suits and skirts, and there is a lot of laughter in the room. The music is too loud, but what bar really gets the music level right.

‘Oh, I love this song,’ I say as I hear Noah Kahan’s song, ‘Stick Season’ playing. He’s no relation of mine, even though we have the last name. Though, it would be cool if we were related. Maybe then I could play a song with him at one of his shows.

‘Oh, it sounds cool.’ Isabel nods her head. ‘Totally your type of music.’ She sways back and forth to the folk-rock song. She’s right. I am definitely into bluesy folk music. I’m a one singer with a guitar sort of person. ‘Written anything recently?’ she asks, and I nod. ‘When can I hear it?’

‘Soon.’ I’m too self-critical. I know that. I want everything to be perfect. My therapist blames it on my family. She says that even though I love my family, my brothers’ constant teasing caused me to lack self-confidence. I don’t know if that’s true. It makes me feel guilty to assign blame to them for any of my negative traits.

‘Hey, hold on,’ Isabel says as she reaches over and pulls out my hairband and lets my hair down. ‘You do not need your hair in a ponytail tonight.’

‘I didn’t get to flatiron it and I need to get a trim.’ I run my fingers through my tresses and try to fluff it up.

‘Or you don’t have to do anything. It looks really cool and sexy, wavy like that.’ She grins. ‘You look hot.’

‘You mean I look hot without the glasses and with my hair down.’

‘Yes. I look better without my glasses, as well. It’s not like you got plastic surgery, and I’m saying you only look hot after that.’ She links arms with me and hugs me to her. Even though Isabel is younger than me, she reminds me of a big sister. She’s blunt and honest at all times, but she’s the most loving, caring person I know. Also, the queen of bad decisions. However, that’s not saying much because I am a close second in that realm. ‘Come on, let’s go and get some drinks. Tequila shots on me.’

‘I don’t know about tequila.’ Worried thoughts fill me as I follow her toward the crowded bar of other people waiting to drink away their woes and have a good night. ‘Tequila goes straight to my head.’ And that was an understatement. Tequila is a liquor that makes me need to throw my phone in the ocean so I can’t drunk dial or text any men I’ve loved and lost or loved and never had.

‘It goes straight to my head, as well. We need to have a good night, and if we are in our heads, we’re not going to have as much fun as we could.’ Isabel dances and holds my hand up. ‘Tonight, we get out of our heads. Tonight, we are living our best lives.’

‘I don’t need tequila. I can have fun with you being sober,’ I say honestly. Isabel is one of those friends that makes everything more fun. I watch as she twirls around, her skirt flying up as she spins. She’s got a wide smile on her face, and I love how carefree she is in life. I want her to find love just as badly as I want to find love. Though, she says she’s not looking for anyone. I know it’s because she’s in love with Sam and has been since she was young. I don’t even know if she realizes how badly she has it for him. I don’t even know if Ella realizes how deeply Isabel feels for her brother. But I know. I’m really intuitive when it comes to feelings. Though, I don’t know how Sam feels. He’s a typical man: clueless and caught up in the rat race at his law firm. He seems to spend every hour working and trying to make partner.

‘Yeah, we always have fun just hanging out, but tonight we’re going to flirt, and we’re going to just do whatever we want to do.’ Isabel raises her hands in the air. ‘Tonight, we are free.’

‘Why do I kind of feel like that’s what you said to Ella when she hooked up with Colton that night at Sam’s holiday party?’

‘Is that so bad though? Look how that worked out for her.’ She giggles. ‘Don’t you want it to work out for you, too?’

‘But there is no Colton in my life. There is no one that I want in any way.’ Which is sad and maybe not totally true, but that’s what I’m telling myself. ‘So, if I go home with a guy tonight, it truly will be a one-night stand. And I don’t do one-night stands. Especially not without my glasses on. I don’t want to go home with a grandpa.’

‘Doubt any grandpas are here right now.’

‘Well, I can’t really see, and I don’t know that we have the same standards, so I’m not sure I want to rely on your discretion.’

‘Oh, my gosh. Get out of your head. Please, Sarah. It’s going to be fine.’ She grabs my hands and jumps up and down. ‘I won’t let alcohol take you down the mistaken hookup path tonight, I promise.’

‘Fine, but I am holding you to that.’ I smile; her energy is contagious, and I do like having fun. I look around and see a couple of guys at the bar to the right staring at us. I bet they think we’re easy pickings because we’re already acting like we’re drunk. Little do they know, we’re just high-energy. As we get closer to the men, I can see that they look kind of cute, but I can’t really tell how cute because the lighting isn’t great. I feel Isabel nudge me in the side, and I look over to her.

‘Hottie alert. Two o’clock,’ Isabel says under her breath. She’s noticed the guys, as well. She’s running her fingers through her hair, so I assume that the men are very cute.

I smile automatically because that’s the first thing I do when I hear there’s a hot guy in my presence. ‘Are you sure?’ I whisper, then speak louder because she can’t hear me, at first.

‘Yes.’ We stop next to the guys by the bar and she turns to me. ‘Now, we’ll get some tequila shots and then maybe they will buy our next drinks. What do you want after the shots?’

‘What about a…?’

‘If you say sex on the beach or a white Russian, I will throw up and then pinch you. We are not in college anymore.’

‘I wasn’t going to say either of those drinks. I don’t drink sex on the beach anymore.’ At least, I hadn’t in a few months. ‘I was actually going to say I would like a strawberry margarita.’

‘With salt or sugar?’ She’s leaning back against the bar now, and I can see that we have the full attention of the men next to us.

‘Sugar, baby. You know I’m sweet all the way.’ I giggle coquettishly, look over to the side, and then turn back to Isabel. The hottie next to us is looking pretty good.

‘Fine.’ She nods. ‘But you know all that sugar is just going to go to your bloodstream.’

‘I almost had an entire tub full of ice cream today. I’m not worried about my sugar content at the moment, but thank you for your concern.’ I shimmy back and forth to the Hozier song that’s now playing.

‘Hey, you two,’ the hottie to our immediate right says, interrupting our conversation, and we both turn to look at him. I smile at him and nod. I can see him a little bit closer now. He is handsome with his light brown eyes and ginger hair. He’s slightly taller than me but really skinny. I have a thing about dating guys who are skinnier than me because it always makes me feel fat, and even if they don’t mind, I have an issue when my arms, thighs, and stomach are bigger than his. ‘What’s your name, sexy?’ I can’t tell if he’s speaking to me or to Isabel, and I don’t think he really cares which one of us answers because his eyes are darting back and forth. I have a feeling whichever one of us gives him the time of day will be the one of us that he wants. I decide to keep quiet. He’s not my type. I nod toward Isabel to let her know she can have him. Then, I look past the guy who’s talking to see if his friends are cute, as well.

There are two other guys, but they’re with gorgeous girls that look like models. I try not to feel bad about myself as I watch them flirting and doing the pickup dance. I don’t know why I feel jealous when I see cute guys and cute girls in a bar flirting with each other. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of my own pitiful, lonely self and how much I suck at flirting.

I realize that I do want to be in a relationship. I want to meet the love of my life. I want to be loved and told I’m beautiful every single day, but that just hasn’t happened for me yet. I’ve met some guys that have really been into me, but they haven’t been great. And when I say they haven’t been great, I mean, they’ve been absolutely awful. I’m just hoping that one day, my knight in shining armor will come and ride me off into the sunset because I don’t know how many more Shreks I can deal with. And just because Fiona was okay with Shrek doesn’t mean that I am.

Looks like Isabel isn’t particularly interested in the man, either, because she’s ordering our shots, and he’s now talking to his friends again. Which is fine by me. We came out to just let loose, not to hook up.

‘Here are your tequila shots,’ Isabel says, handing me two shot glasses. The shimmering gold liquid glistens in the glasses, and I know that if I take them both, I am opening myself up to a crazy, yet carefree night.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

‘These are not both for me, right?’ I ask and let out a groan as I stare at her offered hand. She has another two shot glasses in her other hand. ‘Really, Isabel, two shots of tequila to start the night?’

‘We’ve got to get this party started quickly, honey. We only have so many hours.’

‘We’re not late and we don’t have to get totally wasted in the next half hour. It’s only…’

She holds her hand up. ‘Sarah, drink the tequila shots already.’

‘Fine, you sound like my brothers, by the way.’ I wrinkle my nose at her as I down my first tequila shot quickly. The warm liquid goes down my throat smoothly and I cough as I feel the warmth hit my belly. ‘This is potent.’ I know this tequila is going to fuck me up, and I know I really shouldn’t drink the other one, but I down it just as quickly as I did the first. Within what feels like seconds, I can feel the alcohol going to my head. I don’t know if it’s the placebo effect or if the alcohol has really hit me that quickly, but I’m feeling giggly and like I’m on top of the world already. I shake my hair around and start dancing like I’m auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance.

‘So, how did you know that…’ I pause as my brain freezes, and I forget what I was going to say.

‘How did I what?’ Isabel pays for the drinks and then looks back at me with a confused expression on her face.

‘I don’t even know what I was going to say.’ I giggle. I look back over to the guy at the right, and he’s staring at only me now. I can see his eyes on my cleavage, and I congratulate myself on wearing a very tight, very plunging neckline. If there’s one thing that a lot of men like, it’s boobs, and granted, every man is not a boob man, but at least fifty percent are. And I’ve got some pretty nice ones, if I do say so myself.

‘So, you girls looking to have fun tonight or what?’ he asks and elbows his friend, who is no longer talking to one of the models. I look at his friend, a blond guy with dark brown eyes. He’s grinning and looking at me and Isabel, and I can tell he also doesn’t care which one of us he gets, which isn’t exactly a compliment. I want a guy that wants me. Not a guy who wants any woman who’s interested in taking him to bed.

‘Sorry, guys. Tonight’s a girls’ night,’ Isabel says as she hooks her arm through mine again. ‘If you know what I mean.’

‘Holy shit.’ The ginger guy gawks at us, and I can see a million fantasies running through his head. ‘You girls aren’t lesbians, are you?’

‘You would like that, wouldn’t you?’ Isabel says, winking. I try not to roll my eyes. I don’t know why Isabel bothers with men like this, but she loves to be a tease. Maybe I need to learn to be a better one.

‘I mean, are you guys open to experimenting with two hot, packing men?’ The ginger guy nods toward his crotch. ‘The real thing is better than a strap-on, trust me.’

‘How do you know?’ Isabel asks at the same time that I answer him.

‘No, we’re not.’ I shake my head quickly. ‘Come on, Isabel.’ I turn to Isabel, and she winks at me as she picks up two more glasses. She hands me a tall margarita glass with bright red liquid and I take a sip. It’s delicious. I know I’m going to regret drinking so much alcohol tonight, but right now, I don’t care. Not after the day I had. ‘Come on, let’s go to the corner,’ I say. ‘Let’s dance.’

‘You should have been on Dancing with the Stars.’ She takes a sip of her colorful cocktail and we head away from the bar. ‘You love to dance, you and Ella both. I’m just, like, what is going on with you two dancing queens? You know I don’t have rhythm.’ She moves her hips back and forth as we make our way through the crowds of people, and I can’t help but giggle at Isabel’s self-critical comment. It’s true, she doesn’t have the best rhythm, but if I’m honest, I’m not the most rhythmically inclined, either, but that doesn’t stop either of us from letting loose on a dance floor.

‘You kind of have to be a star to be on Dancing with the Stars,’ I remind her as we make our way to the corner of the room. There’s a makeshift dance floor where three other girls are dancing, and we stop and start dancing next to them.

‘Hey, chicas,’ a girl with long, dark hair says with a wide, friendly smile. She’s wearing a crop top that shows off incredible abs and underboob, and I’m impressed by the fact that she’s dancing and not exposing any private parts. Her black skirt ends right under her ass, and I know even if I could carry off such a look, I wouldn’t be able to wear such attire. I don’t have the confidence, and I’d be scared that my ass cheeks and tits would be hanging out. Though, I can see half the men surrounding the dance floor are hoping for the same thing to happen. Their eyes are watching her every move. And she seems to love it.

‘This is fun,’ Isabel says as she sips her drink and nods at the girl. I’m surprised she’s drinking a cocktail, not wine, because she loves white wine. Especially Pinot Grigio. If she could marry a winemaker whose sole focus was Pinot Grigio, she would be a very happy woman. ‘I just love going out on a weeknight,’ she says, holding up her glass. ‘Cheers.’ I clink my glass against hers and then take another sip of the drink. I’m feeling warm and happy, and I dance to the beat of the music as best as I can. I’m not sure who’s singing, but the song must be really popular because many people have joined us on the dance floor, jumping up and down, screaming and dancing. I would love it if I could write a song that would affect people that way.

‘You’re right, this really is so much fun.’ I take another sip and look around to see who else is dancing. It’s mainly other women, but I can see a couple of guys standing on the edge of the makeshift dance floor like vultures, waiting for their opportunity to swoop in and grab someone they fancy. There are also some other men sitting in different booths watching us. It’s voyeuristic and weird, but it doesn’t stop me from enjoying myself and moving to the beat of the music. ‘I kind of feel like I’m a dancer on display. I wish there were tables that we could get on so we could dance and spin around,’ I shout over at Isabel.

‘Oh, what? Like Coyote Ugly or something?’ Isabel responds, and I nod in affirmation. ‘Dance up and down tables and poles?’

‘It’s not like I’m a great dancer, and it’s not like I’ve ever been a lap dancer or stripper or want to be, but I have taken pole dancing lessons, and while I’m not good, I really enjoy it,’ I admit. There’s a thrill to pole dancing lessons, and even though I’m the worst student in the class and can’t get up the pole, I do think I am getting better.

‘We can always get on a table and dance around and wait for the bouncers to tell us to get down.’ Isabel looks around. ‘Maybe they will even lift us down with their big, strong arms.’

‘You would not get on a table with me, would you?’ I ask, surprised.

‘Yeah, of course I would. Do you not know me?’

‘True. Yeah, you would be all about it.’

‘Come on, Sarah. Should we do it?’ She points over at a booth table. ‘That can hold our weight.’

‘Oh, you’re serious.’ I take a huge gulp of my drink. ‘What if I fall ’cause I can’t see well?’

Isabel looks slightly nervous, at first, and then laughs. ‘You won’t fall, Sarah. What happened to my best friend that wants to be more adventurous?’

‘What? Me? More adventurous? The nerdy librarian with the glasses?’

‘Your glasses have gone. Your hair is down. Let’s find a table.’ She grabs my hand and guides me to the booth she pointed at earlier. There are two guys sitting there, and she takes a seat next to one of them as I stand there. I cannot believe that she’s doing this. ‘Hi, guys. Do you mind if my friend and I get on the table and do a quick dance?’

‘Hell no,’ one of the guys says. He’s muscular and handsome, and I try not to lick my lips like he’s a meal waiting for me to taste him. He’s the sort of guy that I would go for in a heartbeat. He stares at me, and I can see him looking me up and down. He has dark hair and dark eyes. He’s built like a football player and is wearing a tight black shirt. ‘Hey, what’s your name?’ he asks as he scoots closer to me. ‘Come here, beautiful.’ He motions me closer to him.

‘It’s Sarah,’ I say, stumbling, feeling like a fool. ‘What’s yours?’

‘My name is Mr. Right,’ he says, winking, and I giggle at his answer. Not because I think it’s funny, but because I don’t know how else to react.

‘Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Right.’

‘Yeah. It’s nice to meet you, too, Sarah. I don’t know if I’m Mr. Right Now or Mr. Right Forever, but hey, hop up on that table and then we’ll see.’

‘Oh, it will definitely be Mr. Right Forever if you see her dancing on the table. Sarah is known as the best dancer in the city.’ Isabel leans forward and tells Mr. Muscles, ‘She’s been called the Pole Whisperer by some men and the Slutty Stripper of Manhattan by others.’ My eyes dart to Isabel and I try not to glare at her. What is she doing? Is she out of her mind?

‘The Slutty Stripper of Manhattan?’ Mr. Right jumps up eagerly. His dark, glassy eyes are staring directly into mine now. I can see that he has a hint of green in his irises and some stubble. He also smells like whiskey and cigars. Now, he’s so close to me I can see that he’s even more handsome than I thought. And even more built. This is a man who spends several hours a day lifting weights.

‘Well, you know,’ I say, blushing furiously. ‘I don’t like to advertise it, but I am known around town as a girl with some moves,’ I lie, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like dancing for a man like this. I have a feeling his hands would be all over me as soon as the dance started.

‘Ooh, baby. So you are a dancer or a sexy-ass, blue ball-giving stripper?’ His words make my head spin, and I nod slowly as he runs a finger down my belly. Oh, boy, this is going way too fast for me.

‘Yeah, that’s why they call me the Slutty Stripper of Manhattan, the best dancer on the Lower East and Upper West Side.’ I grin, feeling like an idiot, but I’m enjoying the attention. ‘I once got a thousand dollars for a lap dance, and I didn’t even have to remove my panties.’ I don’t know where the words come from, but I know I’m out of control. Isabel starts laughing, and I briefly turn my attention to her as she wiggles her eyebrows. Oh my gosh, what the hell am I saying? Why would I be lying about being a stripper?

‘Let me see your moves. Get on the table, Slutty Stripper,’ he says as if he can’t believe his good luck. I can’t believe his good luck, either. I step onto the bench and then onto the table and start dancing, imagining that I am a sexy vixen here to turn men on. After the day’s events, I quite like being admired and paid attention to. Even if it’s not for the best reasons.

I’m swaying my hips back and forth and enjoying being the center of attention. I run my hands down the front of my chest and gyrate my hips. I’m about to start twerking when I hear a deep voice that makes me still.

‘Sarah.’ The voice is loud and surprised. Why does it sound so familiar? ‘Sarah, from copywriting.’ I squint to try to make out who’s talking. It’s Jackson. Jackson Pruitt, the CFO of Rosser International. I’m going to die. I can’t believe he witnessed me dancing on a table.

‘Oh, hi,’ I say, raising my hand in the air. I can’t see his face properly, and I know there’s someone standing behind him, but I’m not sure who it is.

‘You like dancing on tables on weeknights or something,’ he says, and I want to close my eyes and stop time. However, I’d also be okay with a huge sinkhole opening up and swallowing me whole.

‘She’s not only a stripper on the weekends. She’s…’ The muscular guy starts talking, and I yelp.

‘Can someone help me down?’ I say quickly, and I watch as the muscular guy heads toward me, reaches up, and lifts me down.

‘Thanks,’ I say gratefully. I can see Isabel grinning like a Cheshire cat.

‘If you guys want a dance from…’

‘No, Isabel,’ I say quickly, shaking my head. ‘This is Mr. Pruitt, my boss.’

‘Oh, the sexy CEO who was in the most eligible bachelor article?’ she asks too loudly and checks him out.

‘No, that’s Mr. Rosser.’

‘Yes, that’s me,’ Mr. Rosser says from behind Mr. Pruitt. And it’s now official.

I’m dead.

I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Or maybe hell because that’s where I deserve to go for being so stupid as to dance on random tables when my boss could be around.

‘Oh, hi, Mr. Rosser. I didn’t see you there.’ I blink and try to pretend to be happy to see him.

‘Apparently,’ he says in a slow drawl. ‘So, you work for me?’ he asks as if he can’t quite believe it. My heart sinks in slight sadness. It is now one hundred percent confirmed that he has no idea who I am, even though he was in my office that very afternoon, and for some reason, that makes me feel even worse about my situation. I want to slap him across the face for not noticing me, but I know that’s an overreaction. Violence is never the answer.

‘I guess?’ I say nonchalantly, pretending I don’t care or even know who he is. I want to tell him that he’s not all that and he should pay attention to the people who work for him, instead of just saying that he does to look good in the press. But instead, I just stand there for a few moments, saying nothing. I know I’m in over my head, but I can’t stop myself. ‘Are you the CEO or just someone pretending to be him to get women?’ I sneer like I think he’s an impersonator, and I know that this is the worst comeback of my life.

I am never drinking tequila again.