No matter where I was—work, home, gym, out with my friends—all I could think about was Emma. How could she ignore me? Surely what we shared was special to her the same way it was to me?
I couldn’t understand the reason for her evading me. Did she realise that I wasn’t the man of her dreams? I rubbed my temples, eyes closed, as I blew out a long breath.
My eyes shot open. Wait. What if something happened to her? She could be in a hospital, wondering why I’m not by her side. Oh, my God. I hope she’s okay.
I called her phone again. No answer. Something’s wrong. I can feel it. This is unlike her. There’s no way that my precious angel would turn her back on me. I have to find her.
My car’s tires screeched as I pulled off. The seatbelt clicked into the buckle. I sped past the yellow light, turning red.
In front of Emma’s home, I slammed the brakes and leapt out of the car. I knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer. Of course she’s not here. She’s somewhere else, probably hurt and crying out for help. But where do I find her?
A resident stepped out of the front door.
“Excuse me,” I said to the lady. “Do you know Emma Brighton who lives on the ninth floor?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m trying to track her down, but she’s not answering her phone or the intercom. Have you seen her recently?”
She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “It’s been a couple of days since I ran into her.”
I revealed my gritted teeth as my eyes broadened. The worst outcomes popped into my head.
“Okay, thank you,” I said and dashed to my car.
The only other place I knew where I could possibly get information about Emma’s whereabouts was the church. I was certain that Pastor Johnson could guide me.
At the church, I saw his car. Thank God he’s here.
I went to his office and knocked.
“Come in.”
“Pastor Johnson, good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon.”
“Apologies for disturbing, but I need your help, Pastor. I’m looking for Emma. I’m really worried that something bad happened to her. I have to find her, and you’re the only person I know who could help me.”
He frowned, and I became nervous. Oh, God. He knew that something dreadful had happened to her. I wasn’t ready to hear the bad news.
“Maybe I’m missing something, but Emma seemed fine just a few minutes ago when I saw her,” he said.
“A few minutes ago? Do you know where she went?”
“She’s inside the church.”
“Oh.” My eyes darted on the floor as I was confused about her welfare. I thought she was in grave danger. “Umm…okay. Thank you.”
I stepped out of the office and felt completely baffled. If Emma were healthy, why didn’t she answer my calls? Strangely, I felt worse about that than not being by her side had she been in ailing.
She stepped out of the church as I approached the entrance.
I stopped walking, and she smiled at me. Anger, confusion and depression brewed inside of me. I was uncertain about how to react. Should I give her a piece of my mind or allow her to explain herself?
“Hi,” she said, smiling.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“I’m not sure. I tried to get a hold of you, but I didn’t hear anything from you, and I got worried.”
“Aww. That is so sweet of you.”
That’s it? That’s her reaction? The nerve.
We looked at each other in silence. I waited for her to explain herself, but she seemed uninterested in doing so.
“Any particular reason you didn’t answer my calls?” I asked.
She kept staring at me. I didn’t notice an ounce of remorse in her eyes.
“Is something wrong, Emma? Did I do something to upset you, disappoint you? What’s going on?”
“It’s not you, Mike. I promise. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Then, what is it? We built a connection, and I think it’s going somewhere. Then out of nowhere, you ghost me.”
“I’m sorry if I led you on. This isn’t about you. It’s about my boyfriend.”
I leaned in, raising my eyebrows. “Your boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“You have a boyfriend?” She nodded. “That’s just great.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“So you cheated on your boyfriend?”
“I wanted to get back at him for cheating on me. I never would’ve been with you or anyone else had he not betrayed me. That hurt me deeply.”
“You’re still with him?”
She nodded.
I blew out a long breath. Unbelievable. Just when I thought I found the love of my life, I discovered that I was a pawn in her retribution.
“I don’t understand your plan. Did you tell him about us?”
“Not yet.”
“So he doesn’t even know that you cheated?”
“We’re on a break at the moment.”
“Are you planning to get back with him?”
“I am. He’s the love of my life. I hope to marry him.”
I nodded, steam blowing out of my nose. “Hopefully, you’ll tell him about us so that he knows what kind of a woman he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.”
She kept looking at me, silent.
I walked away, my heart aching. I felt that my departure was rude, obnoxious, and the last sentence was a dig so that she knew how I felt about her. Maybe it was unnecessary. Possibly mature. However it seemed, I let it be.
On the way home, I felt confused about my future. I thought I found my wife. Instead, I discovered that a person who fits the description of a wife on paper may be the worst option to marry. Emma ticked all the boxes, but she wasn’t meant for me.
I realised that the typical criteria that a man seeks for a wife is merely a guide and not a rule.
There are no guarantees that the perfect “paper-wife” will turn out that way in practice. Much like all the other women, she will also have quirks and values not aligned with mine. The perfect woman doesn’t exist. The one best suited for me will have flaws that I can tolerate.
A part of me feels like I wasted precious time, and the other part feels that the encounter with Emma was necessary for me to learn a valuable lesson.
Thinking about her using me cut deeper into my heart. More than pain, I felt disappointed that a woman like Emma could have devious intentions. I thought that her character was near perfection. It turned out that I stood a better chance of having a fulfilling relationship with most of the women I had a one-night stand with. At least, they were upfront about their intentions.
I realised that mopping around, thinking about Emma and hoping that things had worked out differently was futile. The best way to forget about her was to move on.
That night, I went to a bar. My goal was to have a few drinks and observe others having fun. As long as I didn’t wallow in my sorrows, I was content about standing at the bar by myself.
In the background, a group of girls screeched. I figured that they were part of a bachelorette party. Those were usually the types to act promiscuously, especially the bride-to-be. She wanted dick before settling for the one that wasn’t her first choice. Let’s be real—that’s the story of most women.
Three women appeared at the bar next to me. The cutest one looked at me, smiling. Something about her energy drew me in. I loved her smile and her glittering eyes. She exuded positivity and friendliness. I had to talk to her.
“Hey. Are you with the bachelorette?” I asked.
“Yes. She’s a good friend, and we came out tonight to celebrate her engagement.”
“Are you married?”
“No. You?”
“Maybe someday.”
She smiled and nodded, then stuck out her hand. “Lindsey.”
“I’m Mike. Nice to meet you.”
“Who you here with?”
“By myself.”
“Oh. I see. You trying to get over someone?” she asked, playfully.”
I snorted a laugh and nodded. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little bit,” she said, rubbing my shoulder to downplay what was obvious.
“I’m over her. We weren’t serious or anything like that.”
She narrowed her eyes and lowered her eyebrows. “Is that what you keep telling yourself to avoid crying?” she asked, cheekily, then smiled.
I stared at her for several seconds, smiling. The nerve of her. What a cheeky little bitch.
“What are you doing after the bachelorette party?” I asked.
“Probably going home. Why?”
“You should come hang out with me.”
“Why? So you can cry on my shoulder while telling me how you miss the way she stroked your face?” she asked, teasing.
“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. I must’ve forgotten to laugh.”
“That’s common when one is drowning in sorrows.”
I chuckled. We gazed in each other’s eyes. I saw a woman I wanted to get to know more and definitely bang. Her charming demeanour evolved into lust. I wanted her. Maybe that was the desperation of wanting to get over Emma that forced me to feel that way, but I had to bang Lindsey’s brains out.
“Let me get your number, and I’ll contact you after you guys are done,” I said.
She saved her number on my phone, shook hands with me again and said that it was a pleasure to meet me.
I glanced a few times at her while she partied with her friends. The longer I admired her, the more I wanted her. I pictured banging her in doggystyle, tugging her hair and spanking her ass as she begged me to give it to her harder. Thinking about that made me hard.
I thought that I’d look desperate to her if she caught me gawking at her, so I stepped out into the parking lot to get some fresh air.
My mind played an image of Emma smiling. She looked like an angel with her big eyes, cute puffy cheeks and bright white teeth. If she were standing in front of me, it would take every ounce of restraint not to kiss her.
I blew out a long breath and looked at the bar, perched up on the balcony. I wanted to go back inside, snatch Lindsey from the group, throw her over my shoulder, drag her back to my cave and have my way with her the whole night.
Considering how I felt, that wasn’t an ambitious goal. The urge to make the fantasy come true filled me with the confidence to carry out that plan. But I thought that her jealous girlfriends would cock block me, and I would go home empty-handed, feeling even worse.
The best strategy was to be patient. Once I could interact with Lindsey alone, I was certain that I would seduce her.
I sat in my car, trying to think of anything but Emma. That was like telling someone not to think of an elephant.
I scrolled through TikTok videos and looked at pictures of hot female influencers on Instagram. I sneered, looking at some of their pictures because I had slept with them and saw them without make-up. The power of filters on apps never ceased to amaze me.
An hour had passed. Lindsey hadn’t walked out of the bar. I would’ve heard her raucous group exiting the bar.
I decided to wait another hour. If they were still inside, I’d go home and sleep.
A few minutes before midnight, I looked up at the balcony and considered going back inside to make sure that Lindsey was still there.
Ugh, why not? What do I have to lose?
Inside, I saw Lindsey’s group and a waiter holding a credit card machine. The slip rolled out, and they grabbed their belongings.
I stepped outside and waited for them.
As Lindsey stepped out, I grabbed her arm. She turned to me and smiled.
“Hey, where’re you going?” I asked.
“I guess, home.”
“How you getting there?”
“We gonna take a taxi.”
“I can drop you guys off.”
She looked at her friends, and they approved.
I dropped off Lindsey’s friends first and then headed to her home.
In front of her building, she offered me a drink inside. I accepted.
There was a glitch with the elevator, so we waited a few minutes to reach the ground floor. During the wait, my lust towards her intensified. I couldn’t wait to get inside her apartment to unleash my desires.
We stepped inside the elevator, and she looked at me and smiled.
I cupped her face and crashed my lips into hers. She reached for my zipper and pulled it down. Lindsey pulled out my dick and got on her knees. She stuffed my dick into her mouth and slurped on it while bobbing back and forth. That was so hot.
I slammed the stop button, and the lift stopped.
I pinned Lindsey against the wall, her butt sticking out as she arched her back and pressed her hands against the wall. With my hands clutching her shoulders, I thrust rapidly. The elevator shook as she screamed.
Exposing myself to the risk of a camera recording in the elevator or the door opening at any moment made the sex ten times better than in a private setting. I came inside Lindsey after a few minutes.
We went to her apartment and continued the intercourse.
Three weeks later, she called me.
“I’m pregnant.”
The only sensible thing for me to do was marry her. I wanted my child to grow up with his or her parents under one roof.
After five years of marriage, I’m still happy. I hadn’t planned to marry Lindsey or to impregnate her. We met at a bar, had sex a few hours later in an elevator and married after knowing very little about each other. But we had chemistry and respect towards each other.
Sometimes, the woman who doesn’t meet the traditional criteria for being the ideal spouse ends up being the best option.
BUY: 10 Erotic Short Stories Vol. 2
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