I take a slow deep breath as I get into the elevator.
The employment contact shakes in my hands, the ends saturated in sweat. I’ll have to print another one, I thought wryly.
Mr. Big Shot Danny Walker, multi-millionaire CEO, so in control of every part of his life and everything around him caught with his hand down his pants masturbating to a video with me in it.
I smile to myself like a fool.
He thinks I didn’t see the video. It was from the party, I recognised the blue lights of the stage. I don’t know who took it though, it seemed to be from a bird’s eye view.
Was it me that he was masturbating to? Or Jen?
I look down to see soaking patches under my arms. Same as between my legs.
At least I’ve time to change before the speed dating event Julie has bullied me into this evening. Although how I’m supposed to make light conversation with a load of dudes after witnessing that is beyond me. I need some serious advice and hard liquor to navigate through this one.
Charlie
“We need to distract you, Charl. This will be good for you.” Cat looks at me encouragingly. “You might actually meet a decent bloke here.”
I’ve been in a daze ever since I closed the door to his office.
We are in a bar in Leicester Square, waiting for a round of speed dating to start. Technically, Suze, Julie, and I are speed dating, but Cat and Stevie have tagged along to spy on the mating rituals from afar.
We’ve spent the past hour dissecting the scene I walked into in Danny Walker’s office. Are you sure, they kept asking? Yes, I recognise a dick when I see one, I confirmed. They’re still skeptical.
I get it; it’s pretty unbelievable.
Even I’m starting to think I imagined it. For 5 years I’ve worked in that company, and the most gossip we had was Jackie shagging the intern in the photocopier room. Now in one week, Danny Walker has bulldozed in, bribed me to leave the company, said I remind him of a stripper, and accidentally masturbated in front of me.
We change the conversation at the insistence of Stevie, who is sick of talking about Danny Walker’s beautiful dick.
God damn, that dick could be the star in its own TV series.
“What about the Swedish guy?” Suze nudges me. “Focus, Charlie. Stop thinking about Danny
Walker.”
I shake my head. “Nah. He’s gone silent.”
Stevie sniggers. “What did you do this time?”
“I’m not sure.” I take a sip of my wine, thinking. “He asked me what I wanted to do on our date, and I sent him a link to a taxidermy class in East London. Haven’t heard from him since.” There’s silence.
“Taxidermy?” Cat repeats slowly.
“As in what the guy did in Psycho?” Stevie chimes in.
I nod. “Yes, that’s it. Taxidermy, stuffing animals.”
“Oh. What would you be stuffing?”
I shrug my shoulders. “A mouse. I spotted it on Timeout. I thought he would think I was adventurous. Remember our try everything once pact?”
Cat frowns. “You never told me you are interested in taxidermy.” “So you told the Swedish guy?” Stevie shakes his head.
I sit up defensively. “If I can’t be honest, there is no point pursuing it. If he’s not man enough for
it….”
“Probably best to keep a bit of mystery sometimes, Charlie,” he butts in, “considering you haven’t met the guy.”
He continues with the advice. “For the next guy, just say that drinks are fine. Stick to the script.
Best not to mention anything about your hobbies.”
I release a snort. “So one little dead mouse frightens blokes away?”
He looks at me like I’m a moron. “Most blokes aren’t into women who dissect things. Makes them think there is a possibility of the women going nuclear and one day chopping off their penis in a rage.”
I pause. “It might not have been the taxidermy.” “There’s more?” Julie barks.
The four of them look at me tentatively.
“Sweet Jesus, you didn’t tell him about the hemorrhoids, did you?”
I glare back at them. “No! Anyway, everyone gets hemorrhoids once in their lives!” Cat turns to Stevie. “Not me, only Charlie.” He humours her by nodding.
Stevie snorts. “Your pulling techniques are terrible.”
“If he met you, he would realise how great you are.” Cat rubs my arm. “But Stevie is right; when a guy chats over text, maybe you should just talk about going for dinner or something. Don’t let him see what you are really like.”
Suze nods in agreement. “You’d do better in person.”
I tut. “That’s if people would follow through and meet me. I swear, in this day and age of online dating, people are disposable. All these men make plans then don’t follow through. I’ve had so many guys on Tinder contact me, and we’ll chat for a few days back and forth, then boom-nothing!”
Stevie looks at us knowingly. “That’s because men are using the probability factor. They don’t just say yes to who they like; they say yes to everyone. So if their success rate is 20% they need to say yes to 5 women.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, outraged.
“Perhaps you are not filthy enough?” Suze asks. “Have you considered uploading nude pics? You could cut off your head, so no one knows it is you.”
I choke on my wine. “I’m not taking nude selfies, Suze.”
Cat shakes her head. “I don’t understand. What happened to the old days of meeting someone in a pub? Now people would rather search through pictures than talk to someone in the flesh.”
“We are living our lives online, and I’m sick of it.” I sigh. ” Would it have been as romantic if
Richard Gere found Julia Roberts on a live porn site?”