Now or Never: A Last Chance Romance (Part 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

heart beats fast just at the thought of confiding one of the many sexual and romantic things I have never done.  So I pick the most innocuous of the bunch to start.
    “I’ve never kissed a stranger,” I say.  “You know, like someone I just met.  A glance across a crowded room, that sort of thing.”
    I try to imagine an alternate scenario of last Thursday night when I first met Justin.  What if, instead of getting distracted by the man harassing Karina, he’d just leaned over and kissed me.  It’s unthinkable.
    He writes on the napkin kiss a stranger .  His handwriting is impressively neat.
    “Nice penmanship.”
    “Catholic school,” he says with a smile.  “Sister Illuminata.  Loved the ruler on the knuckles.”
    “Ouch.”
    “Yeah.  They nicknamed her Horse Killer.”
    “Why?”
    “She was so ugly she killed the horses.  That was back in the horse-drawn carriage days, of course.  But the nickname stuck.”
    “She was a hundred years old?”
    “At least.  Now don’t try to change the subject.  Okay, next thing on the list.”
    “I don’t have a list.”
    “You do now.  Go on.  What else?”
    He looks at me, all business.  I’m not getting out of this easily.  And I’m not sure I want to.
    “I’ve never had a man buy me sexy underwear.  I’ve never worn any of that stuff, the garters and stockings.”
    “Hot lingerie,” he says as writes, then looks up.  “Great.  Keep going.”
    “I’ve never had a one-night stand.”  He adds to the list.  Again, my mind drifts into fantasy.  What if we just left this bar, right now, and went back to his place.  What would he do with me?
    “I’ve never done anything kinky,” I say.
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know,” I say, blushing.
    “Well, give me something.  What do you like?  What do you wonder if you’d like?”
    I think of Karina’s story, about the guy meeting her at the hotel room.  And I think of April’s story that first night where the man goes down on his ex-wife on the kitchen counter.  It’s sad I have to fall back on other people’s stories to create a list of my own desires, but it’s been so long since I’ve let myself even fantasize, I don’t even know what I want or need anymore.
    “One of the readers told a story about a woman sitting on her kitchen counter and a guy — her ex-husband actually, but believe me I have no interest in going there — was giving her, um, oral sex.”
    “What else?”
    “There was this crazy story where a woman met this guy online, and went to a hotel room, and he blind-folded her and they did stuff and she never even knew his name.”
    “Got it,” he says, writing some more .
    Then he waits for me.  And waits.  “Come on, don’t hold out on me now.”
    “That’s it.”
    “That’s it?” He looks at the napkin.  “We only have five things.  I am not walking out of this bar without a solid ten.”
    I laugh.  “I’m sorry my sexual fantasies can’t fill a cocktail napkin.  Sad, but true.”
    “Ever been to a strip club?” I shake my head.  He adds it, above a few of the others.  I think of Dylan’s story tonight, the power she felt controlling the man’s desire.
    “How about voyeurism?  Ever watch people have sex?” he says.  Again, I shake my head.  He jots it down.  “How about sex in public?”
    “Never did it.”  Added to the list.  “What else haven’t you done?  Anal?”
    “Justin!”  I am bright red.  There is not enough Bailey’s in this entire bar to get me through this conversation.
    “You have to try it.  At least once.”  He jots it down, thinks for a minute, then writes something in slot number nine, three-way.
    “Is this my list, or yours?” I say.
    “Hey, I’ve done all this stuff.  I’m trying to help you out so you don’t need a whole new list when you’re fifty.  This should get you through the next decade without feeling like you’ve missed anything.”
    “This is just conversation,