Fall Into Love (Simone: Part One Naughty Nookie Series) by Serena Akeroyd

One
    As much as I love my friends, I always feel like I’m
completely out of my depth with them.  As though I’m the ugly
stepsister and they’re twin Cinderellas. 
    Hell, I know I make myself
sound like an ogre.  Either that or some monster from a swamp,
but in comparison to Mses. Denison and Harrows, I feel
it. 
    Sure, my figure is pretty
decent, if I don’t say so myself.  It belongs to another age;
when childbearing hips were a positive and not a negative, but
they’re that way from a wide pelvis and not eating too much ice
cream.  Something that is my vice and a substance I try to
avoid!
    My boobs are nice and
round, not porn star huge but a generous handful, and my waist dips
in.  My legs are short—not absurdly so—but unlike Marina and
Edwina, they don’t go all the way up to my
armpits. 
    All in all, I’m not a bad prospect, but when
I’m sitting with them in a busy club, is it any wonder guys look at
me and then immediately drool at my two supermodel-lookalike
friends?
    Hell, I’d do the same if I were gay. 
Which I’m not.  Straight, from the tip of my waist-length hair
to my shining red-lacquered toes. 
    Not that it does me any good. 
    The last time I got laid was about four
years ago. 
    You might snigger at that, but hey, I’ve
been busy since then!
    Having screaming arguments
with my husband, and then divorcing the bastard… it all takes time!
Still, four years? I know, it’s too long.  Especially as the
last man to work his cock into me was my husband. God help me, what
a letdown that was! 
    That son of a bitch—and his mother deserves
that title too!—who was quite content for me to work my ass off in
three jobs and for him to stay at home.  House husband, my
aunt Fanny!
    Hell, I might as well have stuck a brush up
my butt and swept up as I did everything else in my marriage. 
The lazy shit even had the audacity to complain that I didn’t come
on to him enough!
    Ha!
    Why would I want to?
    Gray-skinned, pasty-faced
couch potatoes are not my idea of hot.  I’m not being
superficial there.  Just honest.  I don’t expect my
partner to look like a Hollywood A-Lister.  I’d settle for
Z-list!  Eyes too close together, too big a nose and the
makings of a beer gut—anything, so long as I was in a loving,
respectful relationship. 
    Why does that feel like I’m asking for the
moon and the stars?  Either that, or desperate? 
    “ Oh Christ, she’s in a
mood.”
    Marina’s voice penetrates my glumness.
Rather than answer, I merely raise a brow and pick up my
drink.  An inappropriate cocktail with too many umbrellas and
a slice of pineapple floating in the glop.  I hate cocktails,
but they always make me drink them.  I guess it’s in the vain
hope that I’ll loosen up and actually take some interest in the
club scene. 
    It never works. 
    I hate clubs and I hate dancing.  No
amount of pineapple vodka mojitos is going to change that!
    “ Simone, come on, it’s
Friday night.  It’s time to let your hair down, relax, and
have fun!” Edwina encourages me, reaching forward to squeeze my
hand.  Her earnest desire for me to enjoy myself is
endearing. 
    It’s no wonder I love both of my
friends.  I return the hand-squeeze and try to cheer up for
their sakes. 
    “ I’m alright.  I’m
not in a mood; I’m just thinking.  You know I hate this
bar.  The waiters are all creeps.”
    Marina snorts.  “You just don’t like it
when men pinch your butt.”
    “ Well, it’s not my idea of
service!”
    “ I don’t know,” Edwina
teases.  “I’d whack an extra dollar or two on to the tip.
Especially for the hunks around here.”
    When I only roll my eyes, Marina grunts at
me as she simultaneously wags a finger.  “Stop being
difficult, Simone.  Anyone would think that you don’t want to
get laid.  I know Dan was a jerk…”
    “ Make
that major jerk,”
Edwina butts in. 
    “ You
won’t hear me arguing, Eddie!  That’s the exact reason why you
don’t