A Much Younger Man (Tryst Series Book 1) Read online

  “There, you see? It’s not all bad. At least you have another shot.” Luci was always an optimist; me…not so much.

  “No, it gets worse. She closed with this zinger…” I cleared my throat and read, “Kat, I recognize that you are a hard worker, but in our corporate environment we also look for the right fit. It is entirely possible that due to your age, your sensibilities may not match our target reader demographics.”

  “Oh please,” Luci shook her head, “you’re totally in touch.”

  “She doesn’t think so. She also said my writing lacked authenticity.”

  “She’s probably being a bit tough on you. Show me your last column. Let me read it.” Luci pointed at my computer, indicating that I should bring up the blog. When I did, she took my laptop, settled onto the couch and proceeded to read. Aside from the occasional furrowing of her brow, she remained quiet while her eyes scanned the screen.

  “Okay,” she said closing the laptop and meeting my gaze. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  I nodded, although I felt a lot less confident than my bobbing head would imply.

  “I think,” she continued, “that your boss might have a point.”

  “Oh shit. I’m going to be sacked.”

  “No no, it’s fixable. Hear me out…and take another drink.” She reached for the pitcher and refilled my glass while continuing. “Your column is called ‘What Do You Really Think?’ and it’s meant to take us inside the head of guys we fancy or admire. You have a degree in psychology and that totally comes through, but the writing is too clinical.”

  “But I got hired because of my degree,” I explained.

  “That’s a corporate move so they can dot the I’s and cross the T’s. They probably had to tell some investor that they had a clinical psychologist on board, but the readers don’t really care about that. Neither do the advertisers. They just want to read something hot.”

  “Hot?”

  “Yep,” she nodded. “Something sexy. Take us inside a guy’s brain. What’s going on behind their mask? You know? Spice it up.”

  “I can’t write like you do.” I was well aware that Luci had no problem bringing spice to her writing. She was a best-selling erotica writer. She could write one short story and the sales in the first week would surpass mine of an entire month. Furthermore, her personal blog’s Alexa ranking hit the stratosphere when she started adding a decidedly steamier quality to her stories and soon after, sponsors followed.

  “Why not, Kat? You have an imagination.”

  “I don’t.” I shook my head to make my point. “I’m a journalist. Isn’t it supposed to be about facts? Besides, even if I did have an imagination, I write a serious column — analyzing what’s going on with people personally and professionally from a psychological standpoint. You’re saying they don’t care about my degree?”

  “What I mean, with total respect…,” she cast a sideways look at me that seemed to show she was aware of my own delicate psyche. “Having a degree and writing about people’s psyches doesn’t have to equate to a big yawn fest. Give them what they want.”

  I fished out one of the strawberries that floated within my drink and popped it in my mouth as I considered her words. “I’m not sure what they want,” I admitted.

  “You interview athletes, right? But it’s always what they think about during a game and what makes them have that winning drive. What about their sex drive?! Ask them about that.”

  “I could never!”

  “Okay, maybe not in such an overt way, but you could elaborate after interviewing them. Kat, it’s a common fact that sex sells.”

  As if to prove her point, Luci grabbed a stack of magazines from her coffee table. Every cover shouted sensational headlines such as, “How to Make Him Beg for It,” “Five Secrets to Finding His Secret Spot,” and “What Men Really Think of the Tampon Scene in 50 Shades of Grey.”

  “You think I should write like that? No way. It’s totally out of my wheelhouse.”

  “Hear me out…These articles are all focused on what men want. Maybe you should write about what women want.”

  Luci may have been taking me down a path that I could actually follow. I felt strongly about promoting women’s rights and where better to start than the bedroom? “You don’t think I write about what women want?”

  She sort of bobbed her head from side to side as if to say sort of, not really, actually not even close. “It’s all so clinical. I can kinda get what your boss is saying. Here, have a drink.”

  “It’s not going to help. I want to do what you’re suggesting, but I don’t know how. Today was such a bad day and now, to top it off, I’m going to get fired.”

  “What about the interview you did today? The soccer player?”

  “It was beyond boring. The guy had nothing to say. He was all about his vitamin regime and the muscle powder he puts in his juice. If I were to analyze him psychologically speaking I’d just say he’s self-centered and women should run for the hills.”

  “That’s all you got? Maybe you could elaborate on what women would feel like if held in his muscular arms?”

  I pounded the throw pillow that I was cradling out of frustration. “You see? You’re a natural at making things more spicy. I’m so vanilla. Unless…” I paused as one thought that was decidedly not so bland wouldn’t leave my mind.

  “What’s that look about?”

  “Just thinking…if it weren’t for the hot young guy who helped me, it really would've been a total loss of a day. Maybe there’s something there…”

  Luci held up her drink to me in a mock toast. “You know, thinking about a hot guy is exactly what you need to do right now. Tell me more.”

  A few margaritas later, Luci and I were decidedly drunk. My reaction was to allow the frustrations of the day to dissipate with every click of my keyboard. It was cathartic. I wrote like never before, allowing whatever thought entered my head to leak onto the page. Writing while intoxicated had the advantage of making one prolific, but the abundance of words were not necessarily well chosen ones.

  As the words escaped so did my frustration over my boss’ warning. The age comment had gotten to me. “She has a lot of nerve,” I huffed to Luci. “It’s not like I’m ancient…I’m 39.” Luci was quick to raise her eyebrows at me. “Okay, I’m 41, but still…I know what women want…a hot guy like the one today!”

  “Indeed!” Luci raised her glass to me in agreement while simultaneously refilling mine for a count I could no longer remember.

  “She wants my heart on the page? I’ll show her heart,” I said as much to myself as Luci as my fingers fluttered across the keyboard. “How does this sound?” I began to read aloud, “I appreciated his kindness and began to wonder how he might show his appreciation had I thanked him in a decidedly more private setting.”

  “Good stuff,” Luci slurred.

  “There’s more, but you get the gist of it. And there it goes…whoosh.” I made the sound of a text message being sent. I knew emails didn’t make the same noise, but I was drunk and playful and in my current state of mind everything I did seemed like a great idea.

  “You did it, Kat. Well done.”

  “I did, huh? Who would have thought my psychological training could be applied to such a titillating topic?”

  Luci started laughing hysterically, falling off the couch and then dragging herself to bed. “Titillating…I bet he’d have some thoughts on that one,” she muttered, walking down the hall. “Extra pillows and blankets in the hall cupboard.”

  “Thanks.”

  I found the linens and started to make up the couch for myself all the while feeling pretty darn good about my accomplishments. I wrote a blog post on how an older woman can make a young guy’s head spin. I applied my psychology training, but in a decidedly more interesting way discussing how older women are more likely to be free of inhibitions and with their maternal inclination, they’re natural givers. In other words, they want to do things for a man and know how to
entice them to do the same in return.

  My boss would never be able to complain about this article being too clinical.

  Chapter Four

  The “ding” sound of my email woke me up. Momentarily, I forgot that I was on Luci’s couch, but an inconvenient roll onto my side landed me on the floor. As I propped myself up on one elbow to be eye-level with the coffee table, I stole a lazy glance at my computer. I had planned to go back to sleep. That is, until I saw the stats related to my blog post.

  I bolted upright. All thoughts of sleep vanished. The pounding of my head increased as the maniacal ding of my computer taunted me. The number of digits related to how many people had seen my post was unfathomable. “Oh no. Oh no no no. Tell me this isn’t happening.”

  Luci walked into the living room to peer over my shoulder. “See? That’s what happens when you write from the heart.”

  “And? You sound like it’s a good thing?!” My voice rose in a panic. “I don’t want this many people knowing how I think? That I thought…that!”

  “This is good,” Luci tried to convince me, but even her tone started to waver, her body language giving her own doubts away as she started to crack her knuckles and sway back and forth from one foot to the other. “Okay, maybe we should have proofread it in the morning. But at least your boss can’t complain about your numbers being down.”

  “Oh my God. What was I thinking? I told the world I fantasized about a guy 15 years younger than myself and whose name I don’t even know.”

  Luci put a hand on my back. It was reassuring, until her words had the wrong effect. “You were just thinking what every other woman in her forties thinks…only you put it into words.”

  “I shouldn’t have done this. Any of it!”

  But I knew these thoughts weren’t going away any time soon. Even in the sober morning, I could still feel his hand on my leg. I felt the pull of attraction when he looked at me, and it grew when I met his gaze. It was raw, hungry, and pure attraction, but more so, the tenderness with the way he helped me melted my heart.

  The computer continued to ding, bringing my attention to the latest email message:

  From: Rachel Vanderman

  Subject: Today’s Post

  I want to see you in my office by 10 a.m.

  It was from my boss.

  Chapter Five

  Luci looked positively distraught so I could only imagine what my expression revealed. “Why are you looking so down?” I asked her.

  “I’m so sorry. I never thought that my margaritas would have this affect on you. And, my bad advice, of course.” She threw her arms around me. “Oh, I don’t want to lose you as a friend. Please say you forgive me.”

  “You’re not going to lose me as a friend. I just might stop listening to you…at least if hot guys are involved. Anyway, I have to take responsibility. You didn’t force me to hit the publish button and express my feelings to the entire planet.”

  I followed Luci into the kitchen where she handed me a much needed cup of coffee. Doling out drinks was becoming Luci’s specialty where I was concerned. We drank from our mugs in silence for a few minutes before Luci piped up. “This is unfortunate…” she started.

  “Uh, you think?”

  “But maybe there’s a silver lining,” she added off my annoyed glance. “Maybe it’s good that you got this off your chest — expressed your feelings about what you really want. You haven’t dated anyone since your husband ran off. It’s been awhile. And, you’re obviously choosy so why not go for someone young who is gorgeous and without hang ups? Someone who has stamina to last well into the morning?”

  I put up my hand in a stop motion. “Okay, okay…I don’t want to relive the fantasy when my head is pounding. I’ve done enough damage to my psyche.”

  “Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe it was your subconscious offering a cry of help.”

  “Luci, just because my husband had to have everything scripted and just as he wanted in order to get off doesn’t mean I need a guy who’s young enough to get carded when he orders a beer. Good thing I don’t even know his name. I’ll never see him again.”

  “But if you did…I bet he wouldn’t insist on having the lights off, telling you not to talk during sex, and insisting that you go down on him to get him ready when he never ever returns the favor.”

  I couldn’t respond. She had me pegged. I had turned to her on too many tearful nights and Luci obviously had a good memory. “Well…yeah that’s a pretty accurate description of what it was like, which is exactly why I’ve abstained from sex for the last year. I don’t need to make any more bad mistakes.”

  “A year?! First off, that is way too long and second, this is the perfect guy to end your dry spell. Sexy, young and would be more than happy to be with you.”

  “You don’t know that. He would probably be horrified if he were listening to this conversation…or if he ever saw that post and knew it was about him.”

  Luci spooned a portion of strawberries into a bowl for each of us and topped them with greek yogurt and granola. She went into her cupboard and returned with five different small bottles of honey, each a different shade of amber, and offered me a cornucopia of choices. Sleepovers at Luci’s definitely had their advantages, even if I did have to put up with her direct line of questioning.

  “Have you ever watched the movie ‘The Graduate’?”

  “I haven’t,” I admitted.

  “It’s a classic. About an older woman and a younger guy. What about ‘Adore’? It’s about two moms who each have an 18-year-old son and they get involved with each other’s sons.”

  “Missed that one too. Thankfully.”

  “Ahh Kat, don’t be so prude. It’s Robin Wright Penn and Naomi Watts. If it’s okay for them…it’s okay for you.”

  “Do you hear yourself? They were acting. Anyway, we’re back to the fact that I don’t have to consider this because he would never consider it.”

  “Every guy fantasizes about the experienced older woman.”

  Luci’s words were resonating with me, even if I didn’t want them to. I wondered what being with him would be like. Those eyes…his touch. But then, I snapped back to reality. “It’s not going to happen. Running into him was a fluke.”

  “You could make it happen. Do another sports assignment. The mind of an athlete…”

  “If there is another assignment…I have to go. It’s nearly 9 and my boss wants me in the office in an hour.” I washed up my bowl and swallowed the last sip of my coffee.

  Chapter Six

  Rachel was seated behind her desk when her assistant told me to enter the office. She stared at me expectantly, her cool look as intimidating as ever. And, as usual, I had no idea what she expected or wanted me to say.

  “Uhh, hello?”

  “Have a seat, Kat,” she indicated the straight back, wooden chair in front of her desk that had to be designed by a war criminal for it was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever made and totally apropos for putting people like me on the spot.

  I tried to calm my breathing as I waited for Rachel to continue. “So Kat, you know I hired you for your stellar credentials. They were impressive.”

  “Thank you.” This was going better than I had imagined. Or so I thought…

  “That was a mistake. Nobody cares about credentials — well maybe a few people do, but not our demographic. Our demographic has the attention span of a dog looking for a bush to pee on. You know what I mean?”

  “Um, I’m not sure…” I admitted.

  She rolled her eyes at me as if I was remedial. “One bush looks just fine until that pooch happens upon the next one. Certainly our advertisers don’t care about your credentials. They only care about eyeballs.”

  Shit. Here it comes. I was going to be canned. “I understand.”

  “Do you? Because there haven’t been any eyeballs on your column — well, maybe a few thousand or so, the loyal followers you have, but that number is not the national standard. No where near i
t. It’s not substantial…until now.”

  I had been feeling like a child called into the principal’s office.

  “Today’s numbers are over two million. They read, clicked, followed, tweeted, shared…am I making my point?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Rachel took a deep breath before continuing as if tired from the explanation. “Your post. The one from last night. It’s viral. If ever there was a post to go viral…this one did it.”

  “Rachel, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry. The language. The content…”

  “It better happen again. In fact, I want a series about older women and younger men. It’s hot. Every guy wants a MILF and every woman wants a young stud. Go. Write your next one. When are you seeing him again?”

  “Uhh…I…I don’t think I am. I don’t actually…really…even know him.”

  She whipped off her glasses, flipped her pony tail and looked at me with the iciest of stares. “You better find him and not just admire him from afar, but go out with him and feed me the details. Or…you’re fired. I’ve got the idea for the column now. I can get anyone to write it. If you want to be that person, then deliver the goods. By goods I mean the whole enchilada. I want to know about your dating experiences and your bedroom experiences. It’s okay to tease the audience the way you did with this first post, but like a guy, eventually they’re going to want more.”

  Chapter Seven

  Luci suggested that to find my guy I simply return to the scene of the crime. Her meaning was to try and run into him again at the hockey field. But somehow the word criminal kept creeping into my mind as I wondered if I were old enough to be his mother. And yet, I couldn’t forget that he was the one who took care of me…twice. First, when he got my purse back and then, when he took care of my wound. There was a quiet self-assuredness about him that made him seem more mature than even some of the guys my friends dated and in fact, those guys couldn’t hold a candle to his sexiness.