Wild Ride: A Bad Boy Romance (2 page)

Up in the hotel
room my heart was beating. This wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to be with
strangers in their hotel rooms. But this was what was happening. I wanted to be
settled down, with a husband and kids. I wanted to love and to be loved.

But I was
filling this gaping hole with just sex.

At least it was
hot sex.

And it wasn’t a
bad way to fill a need…as remedies went it wasn’t a particularly unenjoyably
one. But there was something missing. Something important that just wasn’t
here.

“You look so
sexy,” said the man. I had already forgotten his name.

“So do you,” I
said. I meant it. But in a way, I was just going through the motions. I didn’t
really care what he looked like. He was hot enough, and that was enough for me.

“Show me who’s
in charge,” I said. This was a fun little game I played. In place of being
loved, I wanted to be dominated. I wanted to be shown my place…in a way…

“What do you
mean?” he said, a little taken aback.

“Show me my
place,” I said. “I’m a bad girl, aren’t I? Don’t you want something from me?”

“I don’t know…”
he said, his eyes down cast, a strange expression creeping over his face.

“Come on,” I
said. “I’m just looking to have some fun. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I know what
you mean, but I don’t think I feel comfortable with that.”

“Fine,
whatever,” I said. “Let’s just get it over with then.”

“I didn’t mean to
offend you,” said the guy. John, I think it was. Yeah, his name had been John.
Not that it mattered. In another moment, I would forget it.

“Don’t worry,
baby,” I said. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

He nodded his
head.

“Take off those
pants, then,” I said. Instead of being submissive, I would have to take
charge…it wasn’t my favorite thing, but I didn’t mind it. Although what I
really wished for was a man who could take charge…a man who would love me…who
would show me that I needed him…a man who could tell me what to do.

 
My life was so confusing. It was all
getting so muddled. It was so hard making all my own decisions. And making
everyone else’s decisions, too. I literally was making a thousand teeny tiny decisions
for other people every day…that was my job, to make the wedding decisions that
were too stressful or minor for others to make.

And I was sick
of it.

I wanted
someone to make the decisions for me. I wanted to feel safe and secure. I
wanted someone to hold me and tell me exactly what I needed to do for
everything to be OK.

Instead I was
making the calls. At the weddings. And in my sex life.

“What do you
want me to do next?” said the man in a servile tone. Why couldn’t he take
charge? Why couldn’t men these days be men? Why did they have to act so
subservient to us?

I just didn’t get
it.

“Kiss me,” I
said.

He came over.
He had strong arms, but he held me delicately. Too delicately.

“Act strong,” I
said. “You’re strong. Hold me strong.”

Instead of
showing me his force in a gentle way, he just squeezed me tighter. Too tight.
But whatever…I guess at least he was trying.

He kissed me on
the mouth. It was a nice kiss. It was sexy enough. Nothing mind blowing…that’s
what I wanted I guessed…something mind blowing. Was it even possible to find
that? At that point in my life, I was convinced that this kind of encounter was
all I deserved. I didn’t deserve mind-blowing sex…I didn’t deserve a real man…I
didn’t deserve what I wanted.

“Take off my
clothes,” I said, pulling my mouth away from his.

He did so, but
he did it too delicately.

Whatever, there
wasn’t any point in trying to get what I wanted. This was what was available.

Why would such
a hot guy act so servile? Why did he need me to tell him exactly what he needed
me to do?

I pushed him
towards the bed. He fell backwards.

I got onto the
bed, pushing myself on top of him.

I kissed his
neck. He kissed mine.

I ran my hands across
his bulky muscular chest, through his chest hair…that’s one thing I did like
about this guy. I couldn’t stand guys who had no chest hair…maybe I was old
fashioned in that way. I understood that it wasn’t in style anymore.

My underwear
was still on. I reached down and slipped it off me.

I positioned my
powerful legs so that I was straddling him. I lowered myself carefully onto
him.

I received him
inside me. His manhood was big and hard. It felt good inside of me.

I rode him,
quickly. I wanted to climax. I wanted to finish. My hair cascaded down around
him.

He moaned,
bucking his hips under me.

I groaned, as I
continued to ride him. He put his hands on my hips, then my breasts, cupping
them. My nipples were so hard it seemed like they would pierce his skin.

It felt good.
His manhood inside me…it felt comforting, in a way. But I wanted him to be
riding me…I wanted a man who would show me what he wanted…who could take from
me what he needed. I wanted a man whose needs were the same as mine.

We moaned together
as we climaxed.

I fell off of
him, exhausted, turning away.

He snuggled up
next to me.

“Not now,” I
said.

“I just wanted
to cuddle,” he said.

“I have a
stomach ache,” I said, lying. I wasn’t in the mood to cuddle.

“Can I get you
anything?” he said.

“A ginger ale,”
I said.

I had worked at
this hotel before, for another wedding. I knew the only way to get ginger ale
was to go down to the front desk area and buy it from the vending machine. It
would give me a few minutes alone to myself…which was what I needed.

Colton pumped
his hips. He was on top of the beautiful woman in his hotel bed. She was moaning
loudly.

He kept
pumping, powerfully and quickly, until they both climaxed.

He rolled off
of her.

It had been
fun. But part of him wasn’t into it. Part of him was tired of this…weary was
the word for it.

He was weary of
his whole life.

His existence
was nothing but competitions, and hotel rooms, fan girls, and photo ops, TV
interviews.

It had been fun
at the beginning.

Now it was too
much…too much of the same thing...the connections were fake, fleeting. He had
quickly learned that being in the rodeo business wasn’t what he’d thought it
was…it was just as much about image as it was anything else. It was just as
much about appearances as skill. It was more about knowing the right people and
having the right connections than being in top physical shape.

The phone rang.
It was Colton’s cell phone.

“Yeah,” he
said, picking it up.

“Colton, where
the hell are you? You’ve got an interview in twenty minutes. You were supposed
to be here half an hour ago for makeup.” It was Colton’s’ manager, Tom. Colton
didn’t know how many times he’d gotten calls like this: his manager telling him
he was late, or had missed some important press event.

“Who’s that on
the phone, honey?” said the woman next to him. He looked more carefully at her.
He was a little less hung over now than before. She couldn’t have been more
than 21. She looked like she was 20 years old, maybe a freshman or sophomore in
college. She was beautiful. Her breasts were curved just right, and her naked
body was smooth, all the angles and curves just perfect.

“Nobody,” said
Colton, to her. “Listen, Tom. Don’t worry. I’m on top of it. I’m just stuck in
traffic. I’ll be there in ten minutes tops.”

“Listen,
Colton,” said Tom, his voice sounding stern through the phone. “Don’t play
games with me. You think I didn’t hear that woman in the background? I just
hope you’re sober when you show up.”

“I’m too
sober,” said Colton. “Sober as hell. Don’t worry, I’m just hung over.”

“Good,” said
Tom. “Now get your ass over here.” Tom hung up the phone.

“Love you too,
honey,” said Colton into the dead air…it was a little joke he had with himself.

“That wasn’t
your wife, was it?” said the girl, an anxious look growing across her face.

“Yeah, it was,”
said Colton. It wasn’t true, of course. But he knew there were times when lies
worked better than the truth. Would it be better to tell her that she couldn’t
do anything for him? That what he needed wasn’t sex from a beautiful young
woman, but the mature love a woman his own age, of his own maturity level?

But things were
hard for Colton, in a way. People thought that because he was a sports star, a
world famous rodeo champion, that he had everything he needed: but the truth of
it was that the kind of women that Colton needed weren’t the kind of women who
were necessarily attracted to him. Sure, there were older women who wanted him.
But they just wanted to sleep with him. No one looked at a rodeo champion, a
bad boy cowboy type, as a stable long-term partner. They just wanted him for
his body, for the adventure, and for the story.

The young woman
started crying. “I didn’t know you had a wife,” she said.

“Sorry about
that,” said Colton.

He helped her
gather her clothes, and showed her the door. He had been so drunk the night
before that he didn’t even remember how she had gotten into his room. He felt
bad about letting her down like that, letting her think she had helped him
cheat…but he knew well from experience that there was no other way to get rid
of fan girls…they would just cling to him…and they didn’t have the emotional
depth or interesting personalities that he wanted.

He looked at
his clock. He had only a few minutes before he missed the entire thing…but he
couldn’t even remember what kind of event it was that he was supposed to be
showing up at. Hopefully the name and directions were in his email on his
phone…otherwise he wouldn’t even know where to drive to.

In the
bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror.

His body was bulky
and muscular from riding the bulls. His muscles were sinewy. He inspected his
face…wow, he was really bashed up pretty badly. That’s right….he remembered it
now…he had ridden yesterday. And he had fallen off…of course he’d stayed on for
a record time…but he’d almost been trampled by the bull when he’d finally
fallen off. He had an intense black eye. The flesh around his eye was
completely swollen.

There was a
larger hoof-shaped bruise on his upper arm. It was almost obscured by a huge
and intricate tattoo that ran down his arm. It wasn’t a full sleeve, but it was
close.

Maybe that’s
why he’d drank so much…to ease the pain.

In a way, he
knew it was true…it was to ease the pain, but not the physical pain.

The pain that
was more intense was the emotional pain…that longing for a true
companion…someone who understood him…someone who didn’t just want to be with
him because he was almost ‘famous,’ because he looked good in tight jeans,
because he could stay on a bull longer than everyone else, because his lean
face looked good on the TV screen.

In reality, he
wasn’t even famous. Not outside the rodeo circuit, anyway.

I woke up in
the strange hotel room. For a moment I didn’t remember what had happened. Then
I saw the guy next to me...I remembered all right.

It had been
sex. That’s about all I could say about it. Nothing spectacular. Nothing mind blowing.
Not that I’d been expecting anything more.

I quickly
slipped my dress on. I checked my face and hair in the mirror…I did the best I
could to arrange everything so it didn’t look like I hadn’t showered, that I
had spent the night in a stranger’s hotel room.

But it was
pretty obvious. After all, I was wearing the dress from the wedding the night
before.

But I couldn’t
say I was surprised at my situation. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d
woken up in the exact same position….in the exact same hotel actually. Even in
the same exact hotel room. I booked a lot of my weddings at this same hotel.

But it’s not
like I had slept with an excessive number of guys. Not really.

I certainly
didn’t go home with one at every wedding.

But a lot of
the times I just couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t that I was looking for sexual
gratification. I had a vibrator at home for that…and trust me, it was a lot
more efficient. It knew how to get the job done a lot better than a lot of the
men I went home with.

I wasn’t
sleeping with everyone. But I will say that I knew this hotel’s entire staff by
name. I was on especially good terms with the morning staff. They were so used
to seeing me there they didn’t think anything of it. Although I did wonder what
they said about me…whether I was the object of hotel gossip. No doubt I was.
There probably wasn’t much else for them to talk about.

Outside on the
large patio, I surveyed the remains of last night’s wedding. Sure enough, the
chairs were still out there.

I set about
folding them up and stacking them in the corner.

Then I went to
my car, a big SUV I used for weddings. I took out a dolly I had, a little car
with wheels, and loaded the chairs onto it. Twenty minutes later, my car was
all packed up, and I driving back to my apartment.

I checked the
clock. Shit…I only had about twenty minutes before I had to be in the office.

I made a quick
U-Turn to the sound of everyone else honking at me wildly.

I had to get
the office quick. I had an important meeting with my business partner, Sara.
There had been some discrepancies with our financial books recently.

I had been
annoyed with Sara for some time. She hadn’t been doing much of the work.

As usual, it
seemed, I was left doing more than my fair share of work.

And to make up
for it, what had happened?

 
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, entering the
office, throwing my pocket book down on the big conference room table. “So what
do you say, Sara, how should we begin?” I was busy taking files out of my
briefcase, and hadn’t bothered to look up yet. After all, I already knew what
Sara looked like. I saw her practically everyday at the office.

“I’m afraid Sara
wasn’t able to make it today,” said someone. A man’s voice.

“Who the hell are
you?” I said, completely shocked. I was so surprised, I dropped half of my
papers to the floor. I bent down to pick them up. Sara and I were the only ones
who had access to the office. What was this man doing in here? He was wearing a
suit. He looked like a lawyer or businessman, with wireframe glasses and a lean
body and a closely shaven face.

“Sorry to startle
you,” he said, rising to his feet, and holding out his hand.

I shook it,
completely confused.

“What in the
world are you doing here?” I said, looking around wildly. “How did you get in?”

“Like I said, I’m
sorry if I scared you. Sara lent me her key. This is normally what we do in
cases like this, to try to keep things as discrete as possible, try to keep
them on the down low, if you know what I mean.”

“No,” I said,
running my hands through my hair, hoping I didn’t look like I had just come
from a stranger’s hotel room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well that’s
what I’m here to try to explain,” the man said. “I’m John Haversmith, attorney
at law.”

“I’m Katy Copen,”
I said.

“Pleased to
meet you,” said John Haversmith. “I’m here to represent Sara Meier in what we
believe will develop into a case. I wanted to meet with you before this thing
sees trial.”

“Sees trial?
What in the world are you talking about? Are you sure you have the right place?
And where’s Sara?”

“We both
thought it’d be better if I came on behalf of Sara. We can understand that
emotions can be quite high in situations like this. The thing is, we understand
that some money has gone missing. And I’m here to tell you that Sara has been
taking it slowly month by month, essentially robbing you blind.”

I was floored.
Sara had been my best friend since the first day of college…how could she rob
me. What’s more, why wouldn’t she admit it to me in person? Why did she send this
lawyer to explain it to me, like I was some kind of awful person…some kind of
defective person who didn’t even deserve a proper explanation like a human…like
a friend.

I took a deep
breath.

I regained a
bit of my composure.

I was able to
think a little more logically.

I could handle
this. I had been in the business for years. I knew how to handle business situations.
I knew how to handle money. I just needed to keep my feelings about Sara aside
for the moment…those feelings could wait. I needed to get through this first.

“So you’re going
to admit in a court of law that Sarah stole the money from me? I assume she’s
going to pay it back to me before that?”

“Oh no,” said
the lawyer, shaking his head and smiling a little, as if laughing to himself at
my innocence. “My client has no intention of paying the money back. That’s why
she hired me. We’re developing a case that shows that you have been severely
underpaying her for years and she only took what was needed as financial compensation…she
needed money to pay her bills, just to live.”

“That’s
insane,” I said, nearly shouting. “She gets the exact same cut as me. We’re
partners. We split the profits 50 – 50.”

“That’s what
you say. But the papers show something different.”

“Well, yeah,” I
said. “We never drew up the proper paperwork. We don’t have contracts or
anything…because we’ve been best friends for so long. We share everything...”

“Well that was
a big mistake,” said the lawyer, shaking his head a little, as if he couldn’t
believe my lack of business acumen. “You’re going to have to go to court.
You’re going to have to hire a lawyer. And you’re going to lose a lot of money.
Now, I could recommend a couple friends I have in the business who might be
able to represent you…”

“This is
ridiculous,” I said, getting really mad. It was so bad my heart was pounding, and
I was sweating. “Get out! Get out now.”

“Now just hear
me out…” said the lawyer.

“Out!” I
shouted, as loud as I could. “Out, or I’m calling the cops!”

He could see
how mad I was. He got to his feet and scrambled on out of the office, the door
slamming behind him.

I sprinted
after him as best I could in my high heels.

I opened the
door.

“And give me
your fucking key!” I shouted. “You’re not welcome back here.”

“But it’s your
business partner’s key,” he shouted, clearly nervous…he seemed to think I might
attack him at any minute.

“The lease is
in my name,” I shouted. “And she’s suing me…give me the fucking
key…now…before…”

That was all I
needed to say.

“Okay, okay,”
he shouted, throwing the key toward me. It landed at my feet, and he turned
around and dashed away, his suit jacket flapping behind him as he ran away.

I couldn’t
believe it. How could Sara do this too me? It was simply unbelievable.

I pulled her
number up in my phone and pressed dial.

“Hello, thank
you for calling Sara,” said a mechanical robot computer voice on the other end
of the line. “Please leave your name and number after the beep.”

I knew Sara
really well. I knew that she always kept her phone with her at all times, on
vibrate and the highest ring tones.

In all the
years I had known her, Sara had never missed a single phone call…even in the
middle of the night…even when she was in the shower…even when she was
masturbating or having sex.

We’d had plenty
of conversations where I’d called her when she was masturbating…Sarah was
practically always masturbating.

Usually I’d ask
her for the name of the video she was watching. Sometimes I’d pull it up on my computer
and watch it too. Usually it was some hot cowboy or hot buff black guy. We
never talked about it, but I’m pretty sure we were both masturbating together
while talking on the phone...I know I certainly was.

I tell you that
just to give you a sense of how close I was to Sara.

I was immensely
hurt that she didn’t pick up my call…we had a pact, that we would always pick
up the phone no matter what. Sara was my only friend. My best friend. The
person I trusted most in the world.

Not only was
she ignoring my calls intentionally…I was sure of it…but she had been stealing
money from me for years. And now she had sent a lawyer to our office telling me
she was suing me…for unfair payment. What bullshit. We had worked out the numbers
together…it was an even split right down the middle.

Tears welled in
my eyes.

But my sadness
and despair quickly turned to rage.

I called a
locksmith and asked him to come immediately to change the locks.

“I won’t be
here when you get here, so just let yourself in. Install one of those digital
locks and make the code 8837. OK?”

“OK,” said the
locksmith.

I hung up the
phone.

I grabbed my
pocket book with all my stuff.

I didn’t even
go home to change my clothes.

I drove my car
like a maniac.

Where could I
go at this hour to blow off some steam?

I had no idea.

I saw a sign
for a bar. It was a big cheesy neon sign, showing a cowboy lassoing a naked
woman.

What the hell,
I thought to myself. I could use a drink. And a laugh. I had never taken these
rodeo guys seriously…and maybe this was some kind of titty bar where naked
women pranced around.

Maybe it would
be good to blow off some steam…have a few laughs and a couple drinks…and better
yet, no one would recognize me here.

If I went to a regular
high-class bar, I was bound to run into a past or future client. The word would
get out that the wedding planner was drinking in the middle of the day. That
really wouldn’t be good for business. No, it was better to drink in the middle
of the day in some cheap place where I’d never run into anyone I knew.