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Finding Inspiration
A Ladies in Love Romance
By Magda McKune
Part One
CHAPTER 1
I glanced up from the white leather sofa as Marsha Bowers brought me a glass of red wine. “I’m glad you could stop and see me, Julie,” she said, sitting in the matching overstuffed leather armchair across from me.
“When my literary agent calls, I come running,” I smiled graciously. “Not that I have such a cram-packed social calendar anyway.”
The woman nodded soberly. Marsha was an attractive woman, a few years older than me. She had wavy long brown hair, a decent figure, and a cute face. Marsha rarely wore makeup. She looked fine without it. I didn’t wear much myself even though I was rapidly approaching my mid-thirties and starting to show a wrinkle or two on my face. I never had to impress anyone or look attractive for a partner, mainly because there weren’t any significant men in my life. There never had been. I suppose that was okay with me. I’d grown used to being a single woman on my own in the big city.
“I finished the manuscript for your next book,” Marsha stated unemotionally.
“And?”
“Oh, it’ll be a best-seller just like the rest. Any novel with the name Julie Jensen on the cover is bound to be a success.”
“But you hate it.”
“I don’t hate it. The plot is good and the story moves along at a steady pace, but the characters are a bit dry.”
“Dry?”
“Lifeless, without passion.”
“Yes well, you know I prefer to concentrate more on the storyline than on character development.”
“I realize that. Listen Julie, you and I have been friends and partners a long time, so I know you won’t be defensive by what I am about to say. You need to put more passion into your characters.”
I stared at the wine glass in my hands. “Since you know me so well, you know I’m not a very passionate kind of person.”
“That’s part of the reason I invited you to come to my apartment this evening. I wanted to discuss that particular matter with you.”
I looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Discuss what matter?”
“You need to get some love and excitement into your life, Julie.”
“Sure, but how?”
“When was the last time you got laid?”
“What!”
“I’m serious. You need to find a romantic interest in your life. Your characters feel no passion because their author does not feel it. You need to get a boyfriend or a lover or a gigolo in your life. Get yourself some excitement, girl.”
“I am not going to jump into bed with a strange man merely for the sake of selling books.”
“Well then, jump into bed with one for the sake of expanding your horizons. Your novels are great stories, but they can be so much more if the audience feels empathy and a connection with the characters. People are often driven by their passions and emotions. You need to feel those passions yourself in order to pass them on in your stories.”
“So that was your plan for getting me to your apartment? You intend to hire a gigolo to come over and woo me?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
I chuckled and shook my head as I sipped my wine. “You’re utterly amazing, you know that?”
“All right then, how about this? You hire a gigolo to tell you about his sexual experiences. You can learn about passion and romance vicariously through his tales of ribald conquests.”
I laughed. “Hire a stud as a sex consultant! That’s rich!”
Marsha returned a wry smile. “I admit it is a tad on the absurd side, but you get my point. This scheme is not just for the sake of your stories, either. I want you to be happy and have some love in your life. Being alone is not good for you, Jules.”
“You’re alone.”
“That’s different. I was married for six years. I’m alone now because that limp-dick bastard Tom ran off with his massage therapist and left me a bundle of cash in the divorce settlement. But at least I know what sex and intimacy are. You need to discover what it means for yourself.”
I sighed dolefully. “I see you are not going to let this drop until you get your way.”
“Great!” She took a drink of her wine. “How about this for a game plan? We get a little loose on cheap cabernet and then go to a bar I know downtown. It’s called the Meet Market. It’s where singles go to hook up with other singles.”
“And where lonely women go to get picked up by strange men.”
“You don’t have to get picked up. We’ll meet some nice guys and have some laughs. I don’t expect you to jump into bed with some strange man on the first night.”
“What a relief.”
“You meet someone nice and if you hit it off, you go to dinner or out for a drink somewhere. That’s how you learn about romance.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“And you make the whole process out to be more difficult than it has to be. You’re an attractive woman, Julie. You are only alone because you choose to be. If you would let someone love you, your life would be so much richer.”
“And you could sell more of my books.”
“See? We both win!”
I laughed. “Okay. Let’s get drunk and go prowling for some ordu escort hot studs!”
The Meet Market was a hopping place. It had a long bar along one wall and lots of small round tables scattered about, accommodating two to four people at each. I suppose having small tables emphasized the general concept. A singles joint was not intended to be a place for large group outings or business meetings.
It was dimly lit but not too dark. I imagine that was in order to offer a dash of intimacy, while at the same time allowing patrons to not be so readily recognized if they preferred to remain discrete. Contemporary rock music emanated from some ethereal location, but wasn’t so loud as to be a distraction. It was merely to provide a bit of congenial atmosphere, as well as cover the hushed intimate conversations going on at the tiny tables.
Marsha and I alit onto the stools at one of the small round tables along the right of the room. Our perch allowed us a nice view of the entire area. A waitress wearing a short black apron over black slacks and a white tuxedo shirt appeared to take our drink order.
“I’ll have a screwdriver,” Marsha said.
“The same for me too, please.”
The waitress nodded and vanished into the crowd.
“Isn’t this fun?” my companion grinned, resting her hand on my sleeve.
I glanced around. There were dozens of men and women in the place. I noticed several of the men scoping us out as possible dates and a few of the women checking us out as possible competition. “I think they got the spelling of the name wrong on the shingle outside,” I snorted under my breath. “I feel like a piece of meat being eyed by a pack of wolves.”
Marsha laughed. “Relax and have some fun. You don’t have to go home with any of these guys. It’s kind of like window shopping — check out what’s available before you buy.”
The waitress delivered our drinks and Marsha paid for us. A tall, dark, and handsome man sauntered over to our table. He appeared to be in his mid forties with short curly black hair and a phony tan. Spray on or tanning bed was my guess. He smiled a prefect row of white teeth and leaned close beside me, resting his palm on the table. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“This is my first time.”
He looked at Marsha and back at me. “My name is Tony.”
I nodded. “Well Tony, my friend and I are not looking for a cheap fast fling with the first handsome guy who comes along, so you can put your testosterone on ice.”
Tony’s smile never wavered. “What could possible give you that impression about me?”
“First of all, you are much too good looking to need to come to this kind of place. Women probably fall over themselves for you wherever you go. So you come here to get laid by complete strangers and cheat on your wife.” I inclined my head to indicate his hand on the table. “You should probably remove your wedding ring before going into the tanning booth next time.”
The man glanced at the band of white on his fourth finger. “You got me. I am married and am not interested in a long-term relationship. So now that we have that out in the open, what do you say?” He returned a bright toothy grin. “You did mention that I was good looking and I happen to find you to be a very attractive woman.”
“Sorry, Tony.” I picked up my drink and took a sip. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not interested.”
Tony shrugged apathetically. “You can’t fault a man for asking.” He nodded to my companion and sauntered away.
“Of all the nerve!” Marsha huffed.
“Yes. A married man coming on to me. What cheek!”
“I didn’t mean that! I meant he had a lot of nerve for not trying to pick me up after you turned him down.”
I frowned at her. “Seriously, you weren’t interested in him, were you?”
“No. But a lady likes to be asked nonetheless.”
The evening wound on without either of us managing any success. Our waitress delivered another round of drinks. “Wait a minute,” I protested. “We didn’t order these.”
The girl pointed to a table with two men — one slender and blonde and the other stout with graying hair. “Compliments of those two fellows over there.”
Marsha smiled and raised her glass in a toast to them. “See? I told you this would be fun,” she said. “You meet lots of nice men and they buy you booze all night. What a sweet deal.”
I took a gulp of my drink. “They only want to get us drunk so we’ll fall for their bullshit lines and go home with them. That doesn’t sound overly romantic to me.”
“Don’t be so uptight. Buying a drink for a lady is merely a form of introduction. A way of breaking the ice, so to speak.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
The two men who bought us the drinks came over to our table. I was secretly hoping I would get the blonde one, although it truly didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to go home with either one of them. The blonde man stepped up next to me. I decided to set things straight with him before he got his aspirations too high. “I hope you realize that buying a lady a drink does not entitle osmaniye escort you to any special favors.”
He returned a wry smile and offered his hand. “Does that include asking you to dance?”
I didn’t have a comeback for that. I smiled and graciously accepted his invitation, leaving my partner with his stout companion.
The man led me to the dance floor. A mellow soft rock tune was playing over the speakers. He put his palm on my hip and held my right hand in his. I rested my free hand on his shoulder and we swayed to the music. “I’m Chet,” he smiled sweetly.
“Julie.”
“Julie Jensen, I know. I recognized you from your photo on the back of your books.”
I gave him a curious look. “Surely you don’t read the kind of novels I write?”
Chet laughed and turned me in step with the music. “I don’t readily admit it, but yes. I love your writing style. Your characters indulge in such witty banter and your use of metaphor is surprisingly refreshing.”
I chuckled and relaxed a tad. “Normally my books are more for the female audience. I find it somewhat startling that you not only read my work, but you are familiar enough with my books to recognize me in a crowd. Very impressive.”
We danced closer together and he slipped his hand around my side to the small of my back. “So what brings you here?” he asked. “Research?”
“You’re not too far from the truth,” I laughed. “My friend Marsha asked me to come here with her so that I could discover an element of romance that is missing from my characters.”
“Ah yes,” Chet sighed ruefully. “They do tend to be a bit lifeless at times.” The man looked into my eyes. “Merely a literary observation.”
“Duly noted.”
“I hope I didn’t mess up my chances of success with you by saying that.”
“That all depends on what your idea of success happens to be.”
Chet smiled. “Simply to be available should this famous author need to do further research for her character development.”
“Very diplomatically worded.”
“Thank you.” He turned me and performed a small dip in his arms. “So, have you discovered it yet?”
“Discovered what?”
“That elusive romantic element you were seeking by coming here.”
I returned a wry smile. “Possibly. But it all depends on you, doesn’t it?”
“On me?”
“Of course. I need a subject to study in order to perform the proper research now, don’t I?”
“I imagine so.” We danced some more and I slid my hand around his back, my chest pressed lightly to his. I knew my forward actions might be sending him signals that I was willing and available, but I didn’t care. I felt emboldened by the abundance of booze I had consumed and the naughtiness of teasing a potential lover. “I’m leaving in the morning,” Chet stated evenly.
“Leaving for where?”
“Saudi Arabia. I have a business interest there. Probably be gone four months at least.”
I stiffened slightly. “I see.”
“I thought I should tell you before this evening got too far along.”
“Yes.”
Chet leaned back and stared into my eyes. “We can leave here if you want. Go somewhere a bit more private if you like.”
I shook my head. “I’m not looking for a one-night stand, Chet. I don’t think you want me to be that kind of woman either. But I would like to get your address. Maybe you could write me from time to time. Long distance relationships can be quite romantic.”
“Yes, they can.” He leaned down and gave me a small peck on the lips. I don’t recall any man ever kissing me like that before. It was strange and not all that unpleasant, but I didn’t feel anything from it. No chemistry, no sexual arousal or excitement. Maybe I was expecting too much. After all, it was just a kiss and I had very little reference to judge what kind of reaction I was supposed to have anyway. Maybe my expectations were too high. Or maybe Chet was just plain lousy at kissing.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“Well, we certainly can’t have a long-distance romance without a proper sendoff, now can we?”
“I thought ours was supposed to be a purely platonic relationship, like Jane Austin. Romantic yearnings from afar.”
“A man has to have something to keep him warm at night.”
“You’re going to Saudi Arabia. It’s plenty warm at night as it is.”
Chet laughed. “You got me there.”
“You can get my email from my website. I’d like to hear from you and find out how you are keeping warm on those cold Arabian nights.”
The man smiled and nodded. “Perhaps you may use me as a character in your next novel.”
“You never know.”
We returned to our table to find Marsha sitting all alone. Another round of drinks had been delivered, provided by another pair of ardent admirers, no doubt. “See you in four months,” I said, cordially shaking Chet’s hand. “And thanks for the dance.”
“Maybe when I get back, I can help you with your research, if you are still interested.”
“Perhaps so.”
Chet smiled and nodded to me and my friend. He returned to his companion at the bar. I alit onto my sinop escort stool and asked Marsha, “So what happened while I was gone?”
“Nothing happened,” Marsha grunted in disgust. “The man used to be one of the Hell’s Angels. He wanted to take me for a ride on his hog. Now there’s a pickup line if ever I heard it. ‘Let’s hop on my hog.’ Thanks, but no thanks.”
I laughed and tasted my fresh drink. “I can see you on the back of a Harley! You would make one hot biker momma!”
Marsha chuckled and sipped her screwdriver. “So what happened out there? You two were looking pretty chummy on the dance floor.”
I sighed dolefully and shook my head. “His name is Chet. A very nice guy, but he’s going overseas in the morning.”
“Perfect! You get laid with a cute guy and never have to worry about him stalking you and hounding after you for another date.”
“He offered, but I didn’t feel all too comfortable about it.”
“What’s to feel comfortable about? Wham, bam, thank you ma’am and away he goes. Clean, simple and no messy courtship rituals to contend with.”
“I told him to write me.”
Marsha shook her head in disgust. “Becoming pen pals is not the best solution for adding passion to your characters. Girl, how am I ever going to have you learn about romance if the only way you choose to do it is by correspondence?”
I rested my hand on hers. “I’ll learn about love eventually, but on my own time. I don’t want to jump into something reckless and stupid merely for the sake of research.”
“Okay then. You meet one of these guys and tell them you’re working on a new book. You want to use them as research for a short while and that’s all. After you have a nice humping session with some sexy stud, you say the experiment is over. Hit the bricks and don’t call me. Nice and clean and civilized.”
I laughed. “Leave it to you to put a clinical spin on getting laid.” I sipped my drink and nodded to the extra glasses on our table. “So which lucky guys are the next contestants on this dating game show?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘guys’.” Marsha inclined her head to indicate the two women at the table across the room. They were dressed in black leather with spiky hair and heavy black Goth makeup. “The dominatrix duo think we’re hot stuff.”
“Oh, peachy.”
The two Goth girls came over to our table. A slender one wearing a tight black leather bustier and miniskirt stood next to me. She had black lipstick and fingernails and her black pixie haircut was slicked back with greasy hair gel. Her friend was shorter and more endowed in the chest wearing a leather jacket and snug pants and white tee shirt over her big braless tits. The two would probably look pretty sexy of they didn’t look so scary.
The slim girl picked up my drink and took a long swig. I sat in silence watching her, too afraid to make any sudden moves. She put my glass down and took hold of my elbow. “Let’s dance.” It wasn’t a request.
I was too terrified to refuse. I walked with her to the dance floor and turned to her. The girl faced me and wrapped her hands around my neck. “Put your hands on my waist,” she commanded. I silently did as I was told. We swayed in tempo to the music, the girl offering a slight smile. “Do I frighten you?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“Sorry about that. My friend Connie is more into the bondage and kinky shit than I am. I try to act tough and menacing around her, but I’m not very good at it.”
“You sure convinced me.”
The girl laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Connie likes me to be rough and imposing, you know? I really am a sweet and lovable girl. I only come across like a hard ass to please her.”
“That’s nice.” We danced together and I wondered how much of her story was true and why she was telling me this in the first place.
“My name is Tabitha.”
“Julie.”
“Look Julie, I like you a lot. So does Connie, but I knew if she was the one who came on to you, she’d really freak the crap out of you. She can be quite intimidating at times.”
I glanced back at our table. Connie was talking to Marsha and my friend had that terrified deer in the headlights look on her face. “I can imagine.”
“I told her I wanted you for myself. Forgive me for being so forceful with you, but I had to get you away from her so we can talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“You and me. I find you very attractive and would like to go out with you. Not with Connie along. Alone. And not with all the kinky leather shit either. A nice quiet dinner with just the two of us, maybe some dancing, get to know each other a little.” Tabitha slid her hands down my back. “Are you interested in girls, Julie?”
“To be perfectly honest, I never thought about it before.”
Tabitha moved her hands onto my ass. “What about now?”
“Well, I have to admit, your first impression on me was a tad alarming.”
“I know. I’m sorry about that. But please think about it, will you? Connie really gets into that S&M bondage shit. Tying each other up and whips and leather riding crops. Sheesh! A poor gal can’t take that crazy shit all the time, you know?”
“I can imagine.”
“I want some gentle loving and tenderness too. That’s why I came on to you. I thought maybe if you were interested…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes lowered to the floor. “I wouldn’t blame you if you said no.”