What I should’ve said was no thanks and gone on my merry way.
But did I mention that Ginger Lee has a rack that only the hands of the creator could’ve fashioned?
Not to mention the most amazing cornflower blue eyes?
Instead of giving her the company line about being involved, I decided to play along.
“You married?”
“If I was, would I be sitting here hitting on you?
What kind of girl do you take me for?” She got out of the car, which I should’ve told her not to had I been thinking.
I was trying to do the right thing.
The thing with Cindy was still new, but we’d been working our way there for a long fucking time.
Did I really want to mess that up for a one-night stand?
I was fighting the good fight there until she got out of the car, and I saw that ass of hers.
Now don’t judge me too harshly, but you’ve got to understand the package that is Ginger Lee.
How many ‘big girls’ do you know with the confidence of ten supermodels and the fucking balls to back that shit up?
It’s not something you see every day.
I’ve heard the stories, seen the ads.
Usually, women who were anything bigger than a size eight were a little less…everything.
Not Ginger Lee; she was in your face; what you see is what you get.
And what you got was a size sixteen compact body on a five-foot-four frame, with a mountain of jet-black curls and an attitude to rival any Diva’s.
Long story short, I took her out that night, but I did tell her about Cindy.
We ended up back at the hotel she was staying at, and for the next eight hours, she put me through my paces.
By the next morning, I was hooked, but she was leaving.
Imagine my surprise when she made the off-the-cuff remark that the town seemed like a nice place to live.
I was like a dog with a fucking bone; it was pathetic.
She knew what she’d been doing the night before when she put that pussy on me.
She knew her shit was addictive, and she put it on this good old farm boy to make me stupid.
I didn’t put too much stock in her talk, but I let her think I believed her.
She was driving to the next state over for some kind of book conference, and that’s when I learned that she was a writer. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
It was only when I heard her on the phone that I realized she was serious.
And when she turned those eyes on me and asked me in that Yankee way of hers, ‘so, am I uprooting my life for you or not?
What was I supposed to do?
There was still Cindy to consider, though, and I felt like a first-class heel.
I’d all but forgotten her last night into the early morning while I’d been fucking the shit out of Ginger Lee.
Now in the cold light of day, I saw myself for what I was, an unconscionable dog.
Ginger Lee saw my turmoil and for some fucked up reason, that made her trust me more, or so she’s always said.
After telling her to give me some time to talk to Cindy, we exchanged numbers, and I drove behind her to the town limits before getting out and kissing her for what I thought was the last time.
I didn’t even go home but called Cindy and told her we needed to talk.
I don’t know why I felt that guilty back then; I mean, it wasn’t like we were in a committed relationship.
But the truth was, I really liked Cindy, just goes to show how fucked up love can be.
I expected the anger and disappointment that I got from her when we sat down to breakfast at the local diner.
But what I did not expect, and to this day could not explain, was the sense of ownership she seemed to have.
In her mind, as she explained it to me, the little dance we did was foreplay; the date was to seal the deal.
I was as honest as possible with her then or as honest as I could be when I didn’t know what the fuck.
She had to go to work, but she did leave me with one last parting shot to think about, she said, while I was making my decision.
She reminded me that I had been the one to pursue her and that it would be beyond cruel to ditch her just when she gave in.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do, and the being honest thing wasn’t working.
By that afternoon, when Ginger Lee had called, I was ready to pack up and move; that’s how fucked my head was.
A few days later, after seeing Cindy each night, Ginger Lee rolled back into town, only this time she was here to stay.
I was so fucked.
The good thing was, no one knew about my little three-ring circus, but how long was that gonna last with both women vying for my attention?
I would be at the diner with Cindy, and Ginger Lee would show up.
She wasn’t intrusive or anything, and I wasn’t sure that she even knew we were there at that particular time, but there you have it.
“Is that her?” that was the question Cindy asked me the day my life changed.
We’d been sitting in a corner booth in the back when Ginger Lee walked in.
It was a little over a week since we’d first met, and yes, I had been in her bed since she came back. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
She didn’t seem to mind that I had something going with Cindy, as long as I didn’t leave her out.
In fact, her exact words were ‘ you sampled the goods, big boy, now you gots to pay the piper’ whatever the fuck that meant.
I looked over my shoulder to where Cindy had been looking.
“Yeah, that’s Ginger.” I felt like smiling just seeing her sitting there.
***
Cindy was watching me very closely and didn’t miss that, and I can’t say she was too pleased.
“Look, Cindy, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.
I know both of you want me to choose, but I just, I can’t do it.
The truth is…what are you doing?” She was calling someone over, and I think I had a pretty good idea who that was.
I wasn’t expecting anything good to come of this.
By now, everyone’s attention was on us, partly because Ginger Lee was new here, and they were all probably wondering how we knew her, I guess.
“Hello, you must be Cindy; Clayton has told me so much about you.” She took a seat right next to me and wasn’t shy about crowding my space.
I wouldn’t say it was the worse experience of my life, but it was close.
I don’t remember most of what was said there at that table, but I do recall some kind of negotiation going on between them two.
I did tune back in when Ginger Lee accused Cindy of holding her pussy for ransom; I think those were her exact words.
According to her, Cindy had played hard to get to reel me in, and she Ginger had come along and given me what I was missing, and it was so good that now there’s no way I could ever live without her passionflower.
That’s seriously what she calls her pussy.
I was sincerely hoping that no one at any of the nearby tables could hear what they were talking about.
Cindy, my little prim and proper lady, was no match for Ginger Lee that day, but she held her own.
I was the bone they were fighting over and as such had no real say in the matter on the table, or so they both saw it.
For the first time in my life, I was more than happy to let someone else take the reins.
Getting mixed up between two women is for a better man than me.
That’s how I ended up with two women after me.
Don’t ask me what the fuck happened there.
I think they both thought the other would eventually give in.
The only hiccup I could see is that the two of them tried to outdo each other, and I paid the fucking price.
If I did anything special with Ginger Lee today, I better be ready for Cindy tomorrow.
I don’t know how men do this shit, but having two women, especially two who hate like fuck to share, was a pain in my ass.