Where is my dream man

The tarot card reader said I would find my dream man. So far, they have all been nightmares. I sure would like to know when he was going he going to show up," Z complained to her friend on her phone while she waited for the cross-town bus to take them to work. Sure, it was an early morning call, but she knew her friend was doing the same thing. They would meet her at the connecting bus stop in a few moments. They transferred to the main line for another thirty-minute ride, stopping every two blocks all the way. They would continue the conversation, bemoaning their plight in life surrounded by other women and a few men with the same complaint. Shit jobs, shit life, and low pay are the common grievance in their area. Low pay or not, she needed what they gave her to hang on to her crappie apartment. 

She wanted to find someone to take her out of this drag of the life she was living. She is looking for a handsome man who makes good money so she can quit working and dote on him. She wants the all-American dream. She will tend to their adorable 2.1 children, cook, and clean while he works and pays the bills. She would keep him happy when he came home at night. She was just about to describe the man of her dreams for the thousandth time to her friend when a horn honked, breaking her daydream. Some jerk yelled out his car window crude remarks about her fine ass. He thought he was such a catch. He was probably heading home after an all-night drunk. Why do they think that it is so appealing to her? Like, she would walk away from her life and run after that loser? Fool. If he was so impressive, he wouldn't have to yell it from his car window to get attention, she lamented. She looked down the street to see if the bus was coming so she could get out of there before the jerk came back around and started hassling her. She has had that happen a few times, and it can become dangerous quickly. 

She is tired of this life of being up at five to take a bus to the other side of town to a job she hates. But she couldn't quit, or she would be starving in days, and she had to pay her rent on her run-down crappie apartment. She can't afford to move, who could save the deposits with how little she is paid? She was in a catch twenty-two. It's called stuck living paycheck to paycheck. 

If that tall, dark, and handsome man would just come along and rescue her, she would be so good to him. He wouldn't know what hit him. He would be a happy man forever. 

Her problem was every other woman in the world was looking for the same man. Mister Perfect was far and few between. Lazy bums yelling out some cheap ass car at her is what keeps finding her. They are all controlling lazy bums who have nothing, so they try to control what she has but do not contribute anything. That is why she has no man. All the good ones are already snapped up by the quicker and smarter women. She did her time trying to turn a toad into a prince. It backfired all over her, wasting her prime on him. 

Working at an escort service or dancing at a topless club at this point, she thinks, is her only way out. She will take their money and leave them wanting. She had been thinking long and hard about those options over the last few weeks. Everyone tells her she can dance, and she knows if she sways her hips, that would add to the sexy. She just needs something to tide her over until she saves enough to move to a better location, find a better job, and make a better life. Her life was up to her. No one was going to save her or help her. She had no family left in her life. She had no one to give her encouraging words of wisdom from years of living or talk her out of crazy ideas. Like the ones she was contemplating now. 

She planned to buy a car first and find a decent job, then quit dancing. She hears they make good money, but they waste it on clothes and drugs, anything to make them feel better about what they are doing for a living. She wouldn't be that stupid. She would only stay until she made enough to move on. She needed quick cash, so she spent the morning in front of the mirror, trying to decide if the reality of her body was what others saw. She thinks she is fine. Her boobs were good-sized, she decided as she cupped them in her hands. They weren't overly large, and when she did a little jiggle, they didn't flop everywhere. Her stomach was flat as always, her ass was round and caught every man's attention whether she wanted it or not. Her mound could use a waxing, but who could afford that? The last time she had that done, her nightmare boyfriend paid. Then he thought he owned it and her. His attitude was I spent money on that it is mine. He took advantage of her at every turn, and she began to hate him and the sex they had, but mostly him. 

No, something must change. Her life was for shit; she thought as her friend's bus rolled in to meet up at the connecting stop. Her problem is where she works and lives, all she meets are shit men. She has no opportunity to meet anyone decent; she goes nowhere. She takes a bus to a different neighborhood and stands on the street, hoping someone besides John tries to talk to her. 

She received a weak smile from her friend as she boarded the bus moments later to make their hour-long trek to the for-shit job they both hated. Something must change, she lamented as they rode along, bored of voicing the same complaints. Every dream they have talked about has died on the vine as reality hits them. So why bother dreaming anymore? They both have realized they are stuck.

The sun started peeking out from between the buildings. It looked like it would be a beautiful day. A lot of good it will do her stuck in a building all day. All that meant was they would be hotter as the crappie A/C fought to cool them from the summer heat. If they open some windows, it would help, but someone could pass drinks out the windows, and they may lose a couple of bottles of product. Can't have that. 

When she arrived at work, the time clock was surrounded by her co-workers. A note saying, (Don't clock in see Management) caught her attention, and all the time cards were missing. None of the other workers looked too happy, and a couple kept looking at their watches as if they had somewhere to go. Dread hit her. She had heard rumors the place was closing, and it looked like her alternative job just went to the top of her list. 

That hit her hard she didn't want that life. It had been a warped fantasy. She knew she could never do it. Hell no, she wasn't going to let men ogle her body and then throw money at her, expecting her to grovel as she picked it up off the ground. She wouldn't sink that low. She would take her chances at the Stop and Shop once the next worker was shot. She'll slip right in there and wait for her turn to be dead. A defeatist attitude has set in for her today. This was the last ding in a lengthy line of setbacks. 

She waited in line for an hour to meet with a career counselor she received a five-hundred-dollar extra severance pay bonus for her two years of faithful service and her last paycheck. That was nice, but it won't buy her a new life. "Who wants to watch for bent or missing bottle caps anyway?" Z complained and walked out of the building, making her way to the bus stop. She scanned the skyline she was right it was a beautiful day. But she was in the industrial side of town, and a brown haze obscured the blue of the sky. She wanted out of this shit life. She needed to win the lottery, but she didn't have the money to play. Again, there was that catch twenty-two.

Z walked out to the bus stop and sat down. She had an envelope with a job prospect the HR lady gave her. But she told her to wait to open the envelope until she left the building. She was trying to make it sound like it was going to be the perfect job and her life would be wonderful from now on. As if she was lucky, she lost her job. Right. She glanced over at Mira, and she was doing the same thing, looking at the sealed envelope. She opened it to look to see what they gave her. She noticed Z looking and pulled the paper to her chest. 

 Z's blood boiled at her stupidity. What was she going to do, see the name, and run to get the job before she could? Looking at the sky, she calmed her anger as she told her, "I'm not trying to steal your job. I was just trying to see how many of us got the same damn job referral. Knowing them, we are all supposed to go to the same crappie place for one damn job," Z grumped as the others opened their envelopes and looked at their papers to see what was offered. Waiting for the bus to head back to their shit lives without a shit job. They knew they were screwing them over and wanted them off the property when they got pissed off. Doing exactly what they had been told not to do, they looked and discussed their options.

"Ok, what is your business?" Sandra asked, standing on the other side of the bench, "Mine is Davis imports. They need packers for eBay sales distribution," she offered to get the ball rolling. 

"Mine too," Lucy said, and two more of the ladies nodded their heads as disappointment spread across their faces. Each was wondering how many they needed. Each one of them needed their jobs they were all one paycheck away from being on the streets, most with their children. 

"Mine is Palmer House Hotels they need file clerks," Z said Mira and Trudy raised their hands. "Great, now we are trying for the same jobs," she complained, but at least it was only two others to compete with for that job. Unless some of the ladies who have cars got the same referral, she should be home-free. A few more companies were called out, as others indicated they had the same referral. Twelve women and five companies are the offer. Z was pissed for them all. But she needed to pay attention to the job offer she had and be the one to get it; she needed to work, too. And not be shot. 

Palmer's house was a good twenty miles closer to her apartment. If she could get that job, she could put off the topless dancing idea. She shook her head and knew in her wildest dreams she couldn't be a dancer. She could barely stomach walking by the local club. The type of men who hang around the door are the dregs of the neighborhood. That place was their only chance to see a naked woman.

Her mother would crawl out of her grave and kick her ass if she stepped out on some trashy stage topless. Nope, she would rather work the night shift at a Stop and Shot and chance being shot before dancing for perverts. That idea went out the bus window as she rode back to her neighborhood. Besides, she was smart she worked with a warehouse full of dummies, and management knew it. They always came to her with problems or information so she could explain it to the dumb ones. They required hand movements and small words to get things into their brains with frequent reminders. 

Once she started working there, she knew she could do better, but the pay was enough to keep her coming back with hopes of moving up. It had been her bird in the hand for two years. She found the job with help from the crisis care center for women after Carlos was arrested for beating her.

Her boss would always tell her she was too smart for this job. It made her feel good, but he never moved her up to do something that took some brains. She didn't think he was trying to get in her pants with his comments. Once the rumors started flying off the closure, no one moved up. They all just hung on to what they had until the shoe dropped today. 

They met at the bus stop at 7:30 the next morning to make the twenty-minute trip to Palmer House. They had discussed the strategy on the way to the main bus stop the day before. They all needed to find a job. Living paycheck to paycheck is a difficult life. Get sick, and your life could be ruined for a long time as you make up the loss if the job even keeps you. 

"Ok, let's promise we won't be mad at each other if one of us gets the job and you don't," Z suggested she liked both girls. They have been friends for two years. Yes, mostly on the bus or on the bottling line, but they have spent a lot of time talking and complaining about things and will miss that now that their lives have changed. They won't be working together unless the new job requires three clerks. 

Trudy said, "You guys know I will need a lot of help to find a job."

 "Yeah, guys, we need to support one another and help so we all find jobs," Mira said she was lucky to have found that missing cap job. She was standing in a line with three other people looking for the same problem. That woman was slow with a capital S. She would knock over fifteen bottles trying to remove one without a cap. They got to the point where all she did was point out the bottle, and Z grabbed it so the conveyor belt could keep moving. That saved a lot of time and trouble with spills and broken bottles. 

Pulling out her referral letter from her purse as the bus pulled up to the stop. Half the people on the bus stepped off. Most had some kind of uniform on, so they already had jobs there. The rest probably did, too; they seemed to know where they were going, so she relaxed. She read the referral over last night and led the others to a side entrance that said employees only. She knew business casual was the dress code. Exactly what that meant, she was not sure. She decided on a Sunday dress but left her Easter bonnet at home. 

She hadn't been to church in years, but a few things called to her as her friends shopped on rare occasions. When she had some extra money, she could pick up a few things. She was the queen of penny-pinching, and sometimes, when the local grocery store had sales, she stocked up. You would be amazed how much you can buy with twenty bucks at a Goodwill bag sale. They waited for that time of year and saved for that treat. One of the ladies they worked with lived near Goodwill and kept them apprised when the sale was. She would find things she liked and hide them in the XL size, hoping no one found them so she could get them during the bag sale. 

Her friends must not have read the memo and were dressed for work at the bottling company. Jeans and t-shirts, yeah, she was not their Mama, one more check mark for her. She can follow written instructions. 

The building was huge, something like twenty-seven stories tall, she heard. It was all red brick climbing to the sky. They had the corporate headquarters there, and the rest was a very nice hotel. She understands from the referral letter it was a five-star hotel. It was one of the largest hotels in the city it was a huge multi-story complex with a parking garage next to it. The only hotels she had been in would be lucky to get two stars. It was exciting to be somewhere so fancy. The prospect of working in such a place was exciting. This would be a hundred steps up from her last job. 

She was not a cheap girl, just broke. She was the first in her family to graduate high school and look where it has gotten her. She was taking an online course to be a counselor. She was still working on the basics, but those were moving along well, according to the online guidance counselor. Finding time was her biggest problem as of late. Now, with the new job hunt, she was falling further behind. 

They followed the group from the bus through the side door with an employee's-only sign. She prayed she would get this job she didn't want to be out there hitting the pavement looking for work. It felt so degrading to her. Please think I'm worthy of working for you. 

Zarita led them to the employment office she knew because a sign hanging above the door told her. See, she was smart. Skirting around the people as they clocked in, she crossed her finger she would get this job. She would cross her legs if she didn't look like a fool trying to walk. She would do anything at this point if it helped. She barely slept last night worrying about today. The thought of job hunting was so depressing to her. She knew she could get unemployment but didn't want to go in that direction. She knew a lot of the people were headed over there this morning. They were excited about sitting at home pretending to look for work. She would prefer work to look for work.

Z stepped up to the desk and handed the properly dressed woman her referral letter, and the woman smiled. She had picked right, not quite Sunday best, but close. She thinks it is called business professional. She would love to be a business professional and make good money for once. One step above minimum wage is a hard life for anyone. It was a step down from the ones living on welfare. 

"Oh, wonderful, we have been waiting for you to arrive. Come with me," she instructed. Taking the ladies down a hall, she introduces them to a woman in an office full of busily working women, all dressed as business professionals. Z was glad she had chosen right the dress she wore was just about right. If she got the job, she would have to make a trip to Goodwill and buy more dresses with that bonus they gave her.

"I have a quick test, and then I will decide who to hire," the woman said. She took them into a room full of filing cabinets. She picked up a stack of files and handed it to Mira. Another stack was given to Trudy and then one to Zarita. 

"Put these alphabetically, and come see me when you're finished. No rush," she said, leaving them alone in the brightly lit but enclosed room. 

It was not a difficult test, but you would be amazed at how many didn't do it right, Peggy thought and left them to it. She hoped they weren't all as dumb as dirt. She was amazed at how few people understood this concept. It was the most important part of filing things properly. Their HR group likes to give newly laid-off people the first crack at a job. You assume they have some brains to hold a job previously. So far, it was not working out too well, but hiring from the street was not working either.

Z pulled out a chair and got busy this should be easy. The others followed her example and sat and started sorting their stack. She heard Mira sing the alphabet song quietly as she worked the files. It was easy, but there were a lot of S's and B's in her stack, so she sorted everything with the first letter and then went back to sort further down the word in the stack of forty or so files. She figured that was the test. ABC was one thing, but precision was another she learned this in the fifth grade. 

Trudy picked up her stack, smiled at them as if saying slow pokes, and walked out. That was OK the woman said no hurry, so Z went back to sorting. Mira tentatively picked up her stack and walked out as Z stacked hers to leave right behind her. She made one last check as she walked over to turn in her files. Mira was not an issue she did well to tie her shoe, but Trudy was arrogant enough to think she was smarter than Zarita. She was pretty sure Mira wasn't a threat unless they had no duplicates in her stack, Z knew she had this job. But she hopes she is not stuck in that room for days sorting papers. She may go nuts. She needed people to talk to and to have some kind of stimulus in her life. That was the good thing about the line job. She moved around all day talking to people. She loved that. She could be a social butterfly, and no one cared as long as the line kept moving. 

Trudy was walking out as Z came out of the room. She didn't even look back, no smug smile, I got nothing to indicate how it went. Mira handed her stack over to the woman, and moments later, she left also and the woman was not happy as she looked back to see if Z was coming. The woman put out her hand as if to say, ok, let's get this over, and took her stack. Thumbing down the folders quickly, she smiled as she finally found one. Someone who could file correctly, she hoped. It was amazing how hard it is to find someone to do this job for so little pay. She was not about to teach them again what they should have learned in the fourth grade.

"I was giving up hope," Peggy said and sighed, it had taken a month for them to find just one person who could alphabetize files correctly. She was losing hope for this new generation and wondered what they were teaching kids nowadays.

"OK we start every day at 8:00 Monday through Friday lunch is around noon you decide you get an hour. We leave at 5:00 the pay is twelve to start and after six months you will receive a raise depending on how many days you miss and how well you do your job. I'm Peggy and this is Margery," she said signaling to another woman. "She is going to show you the job and introduce you around. She is moving up as soon as she has you trained. Are you willing to start today, or do you need a few days to arrange things?" Peggy asked an overwhelmed Z. She wanted to cry just from the sheer relief of getting the job and the pay was amazing. She was not good with her life being unsure. She needed to know where her next meal was coming from and that she had a roof over her head. 

She hadn't expected to start today but yes; she could start now. There was nothing to stop her except a few dirty dishes in her sink and they could wait. Hell, yeah at twelve an hour she will start this minute she wanted to scream with delight. She remained calm, "Sure I would be glad to start today," Z told her looking for a place to store her purse. Several women working around the office looked up and most smiled. They were answering the phones and sorting papers at every desk looking very busy. She figures they are what they will want to be filed. The first thing she did was fill out paperwork to start the job. 

She was back in the file room sitting at the table signing her life away. Once she finished Margery taught her the job. It was simple find the account in the cabinet add the new bills to the stack in the front and check the back of the file for out-of-date bills that can be shredded. Anything over seven years old can go. She had it down in thirty minutes. Her biggest problem was remembering the other lady's names. 

Z swung by Wendy's desk to pick up the file stack. Everyone else left for lunch, but she was looking at the computer screen with a smile on her face. Wendy was a pretty enough woman she dressed kind of Goth in her looks and clothing. She stood out in the room full of normally dressed women. It was possibly why she dressed so strangely. She needed to stand out in the group of mundane. She was smiling, which was not the norm for her, so she drew Z in. 

"What have you so happy about," Z asked as she approached. She had been on the job for about six months now and had become friendly with everyone in the office. She was the only one who could wear jeans because she was up and down and sitting on the floor so often. Peggy told her she could wear them after a few of her dresses were torn, being caught on the cabinet drawers as she stood or reached in a drawer. She had taken to going to Goodwill and finding anything that would work for her weekly, knowing she would ruin it within days. Now she wears jeans and comfortable shoes, and she doesn't mind the work. She fluttered around the office as she picked up the (to be filed papers) speaking to the different people. She was on the move, and visiting it was her perfect job; plus, the pay was great. Her first raise was not monumental, but it was nice to know her work was appreciated.

She has noticed the cabinets are getting full and has offered her concerns to Peggy about the situation. She suggested one of those scanners she has seen on TV that puts and sorts the invoices on the computers. To her, it was the perfect solution. She could sit and load them into the scanner. It looked easy on TV. Anything had to be better than this back-and-forth crap.

Peggy told her she would submit the suggestion and left it at that. That was a month ago. She was a no-nonsense type of woman.

Z played a game of Will she jumped me if I talked too much every day. Mainly, she got a get-to-work glare from her on and off all day, but she loved to check in with the ladies. She would flash an innocent smile at her and keep moving after finding out how they were or a glimpse of a new picture of a child or grandchild.

"I put my name on a site to find men," Wendy told her, she seemed very interested in what was on her computer.

"Like a dating site?" Z asked and approached to see what she found. She hadn't been with a man in over two years, and the dry spell was getting to her. She has spent the last few weeks thinking about dating again. The guys that she has met here all suck. Her last man was an abusive jerk, not someone she wanted to duplicate. 

The others she has met here, she believes were called pompous ass. They make sounds like they are sucking grapes calling her baby, and making comments about her ass as they walk by her. The ones in her neighborhood, she has known them all their lives. They were a bunch of players and drug dealers or users living off their equally broke parents. She was not going to be played again. The next man will be on her terms. If anyone is going to be used it will be the man. So far no one has even set off a spark in her nether regions, so she keeps looking. Maybe her tall dark and handsome died in the streets before they met. 

She worries her first boyfriend may have been the love of her life. He died over a stolen car prank when he was seventeen. The idiot stole a drug dealer's fancy car and was plugged as he walked down the street two days after the joy ride. She is just glad her mother made her stay home that night because everyone involved in that car theft is dead now. He played it off as just a joke, but the owner was not laughing. 

His gang hunted them down and killed each one in a matter of days. It cleared out the riff-raff, but it also made everyone afraid to go out at night. No one stole another car that was for sure. It took two years and the death of the drug dealer to make people believe they could go out again. It took three more years for the neighborhood to go to hell again. Drugs were always the blame.

"Not a dating site per se," Wendy answered, "You ever just want to scratch that itch and nothing more? I don't want to deal with the emotions of a man, but I do miss a nice male body. The good ones can do wonders for a woman's sanity," Wendy said and raised her eyebrows, indicating you know what I mean.

"Sure, I know exactly what you mean. I want a man on my terms, not his," Z told her, and it was exactly what she wanted: a man who did as he was told. Not the other way around.

"Ok, so this site has men and women looking to hook up for casual sex, nothing more like a one-night stand. No, I love you, no, come meet my parents and hang around and dirty up my life. This is anonymous sex with consenting checked-out adults. You don't use your real name or anything. You sign in, they do a background check on you, and you're in. They don't want lawbreakers and perverts on the site."

"That is good to know," Z said, very interested in the site. She had an itch she would love to have scratched. Two and a half years is a long time not to be touched by anyone but you. There's not much magic there. Her last boyfriend was an abusive jerk she couldn't get rid of until the cops carted him away. She had fallen for his charms, and then he turned on her as soon as she relaxed. 

"I can put you on the site in five minutes all I need is your name, birth date, social, and a picture. We can take that with my phone," Wendy told her, holding up her phone. She hadn't seen her with one, so she offered hers. 

"Are you sure this is safe? I don't want to end up on the news as the first one murdered from the Friends with Benefits site. You know, like that Craig's list killer," Z asked, sounding concerned. 

Wendy told her. "I'm sure. I have been out with a number of the men on the site. A few I didn't let them know I was there. I just sat back and watched them look for me. They did nothing for me at first site. I know that is rude, but hey, that is what Anonymous is right. Plus, my picture doesn't look like me now." Wendy smiled and looked back at her screen. "So, what you do is send them a wink, and if they wink back, you e-mail back and forth what you want and what they are looking for. It is all private and discreet. If you decide to meet up, you set the place and time to meet. If you don't like him, walk away. If you do, get a hotel room and go Dutch. I find Dutch is best; no one feels used if the other is not what you wanted. 

But I have found that being anonymous frees you up. The men are a little more aggressive, trying new things, and just having fun. No one can point at you in a year and laugh at you because you are like a finger in your butt. So, what so do I," Wendy said, looking at another face that popped up with a wink. She was right her picture only vaguely looks like her. She looks normal, which is hard for Wendy. She figures it must be an old picture of her before someone screwed her over, and she went all dungeons and dragon's mode. 

"That is the guy I walked away from the other night. He looks good in the picture, but he is not that great in person. They can make all kinds of claims, so watch out and a picture can lie." Wendy told her and started to make up a lie to the guy about a flat tire on the Uber she used. By the time he got it fixed, it was so late she gave up. He immediately popped up another plan to meet but she put him off. "Anyway, there are hundreds of them on here all looking for a one-night stand. Once in a while, all I want is someone to growl over my body and make me feel good. All you can do is hope that each guy knows what they are doing. Sure, they all have commitment problems, but some can fuck well. Besides we don't want them committed to us anyways.

"Yeah that does sound good I'll take pictures tonight and bring it, so you can get me set up. It sounds exciting but dangerous," she felt she didn't look all that great right now. She could freshen up her make-up and do something with her messy hair. Her wild mass of curls was out of control today with the amount of humidity in the air this morning. Just getting to the office had done her in today with the drizzle this morning.

"Yeah but isn't every first date you go on. This way you both know what the other is after, from the get-go," Wendy told her.

"That is what every man is after the first date or last is' sex," Z commented. At least they know how to use a computer. Which are ten steps up from the dolts in her neighborhood. 

"Yes, but we set the rules here not them. I like the anonymous part best. He can't contact me again unless I want him to. He can be out in the hell no pile or the, oh yes again please pile," Wendy told her and popped out of the site. 

They went to lunch and continued the conversation about men and good sex. She found out Wendy was kind of a sex addict and very much on the kinky side. She liked more than a finger in her butt. The more they talked the more she realized she had been with a lot of these guys on that site. Z had only been with one guy she felt comfortable enough with to even be a little wild. He was the first boy in her life, and she would still be with him if he hadn't been shot walking down the street. He had been a lot of fun they experimented and played for hours as teens just to make the other one squirm. 

The next man was a jerk she didn't want him touching her and she became a dead fish to him. Maybe that is why she can't keep a man she lost her desire with Devon's death. This may be a way to broaden her horizons. She could use them as Guinea pigs and find out what is too far for a man. Maybe get her mojo back and get on with her life. She gets horny, so it must be the men who don't turn her on. Needing to find someone that turns her on and she will then use up his mojo to find her own. 

That is the first thing she is going to ask, can you deliver? Because if you can't move on. She wants more than someone to growl over her body. She wants growls to come out of her body and a few, thank you, Jesus, would be good too. Having good sex as a teen and she has been hoping for it again. Being shit on too often by men who disappointed her, so she stopped looking. These two years have been good for her without a man muddling up her life. She knows she can take care of herself and doesn't need one to live. 

No more looking for tall, dark, and handsome to save her. She is twenty-four and doing just fine. If he comes along great but she has stopped looking for him. But sex with someone who knows what he is doing would be great she decided as she rode the bus home. She needs to feel desired and sexy even if it only lasts a short while. If someone could validate that she is a desirable woman, it would go far to pick up her self-esteem. 

Her last boyfriend had tried to destroy her self-worth and also almost take her life. He had done a good job and after two years she was still suffering from his abuse emotionally. That doesn't mean she was not a sexual being. He was a lousy lay and she found it hard to respond to him. Once he got his claws into her, he didn't want to let go. She gave him a free place to live and the freedom to roam. The mistake she made was confronting him on his roaming. She had hoped he would leave instead he took his frustrations out on Zarita.

Wendy looked up as the other ladies were leaving for lunch, she brought a sack lunch. She planned to hook Z up with a great site. "Ok, Miss Zarita girl let me see this picture you're going to use to lure men into your web."

"Oh girl, don't make it sound so ominous. I'll be nice to them at some point," Z teased thumbing through the photos Trudy took last night. They became roommates after Trudy didn't find a job for three months. She was one paycheck away from moving out and Z couldn't wait. Besides being dumb, she is a pig. She has stuff scattered all over her apartment as if she had taken over the place which apparently, she has. 

Z's medical insurance started last month Peggy gave her time off to go get checked out. She has a clean bill of health for whatever man she meets. That gives her one less thing for her to worry about. She figures if she did have something she would have started dripping, gone insane, or something by now. She was shocked that the jerk hadn't given her something. She remembered them giving her all kinds of antibiotics in the hospital when she ended up there after one of his fits. Maybe they got rid of everything then. He had not touched her again.

Passing the phone to Wendy, she looked at the picture and smiled. "Good job you look great, but you're pretty all the time," she said and made Z blush. She sent the picture and information to the site and had Z sit next to her waiting. "Ok, what name do you want to go by?"

"My phone has the name Sonya attached to it from the previous owner of the number. I never had them change it to my name, so I think Sonya would be good. I think I look like a Sonya dark-haired and mysterious," she said trying to look sexy with a puckered lip pout.

"Yeah, that is good. Sexy Sonya come on men meet her." Wendy said as she typed in her information. "So, you're what twenty-six?"

"Yeah sure twenty-six, five feet four in heels, one twenty around that give or take a cheeseburger," Z teased. "I want a man that can bring it. I expect my toes to be curled all night," she told her looking down at her sneakers.

"Don't we all. Ok now we wait for you to be approved that should be quick," she said and pressed enter. 

"Remember anonymous no names, no jobs, I will make up an e-mail site just for the men or you can give him your cell number if he is really good. If he becomes a problem, change your phone number. I have an e-mail site and I can ignore the ones who disappointed me."

"I don't have to pay or anything?" Z asked.

"No, they have advertisers who have pop-up ads for condoms and hotels all kinds of stuff in the area singles may want. Always go to a hotel, he may seem great and turn into a stalker," Wendy warned, sounding like she knew how that went.

The first three guys who winked Wendy knew, and she was not impressed. One she said was so-so, and she skipped that one too looking for a better one for her. Over the next few days, she kept an eye out for her and Z's winks. Z's were coming in hot and heavy being the new girl on the site. That was to be expected. Plus, she was beautiful. Most of the men winking she could see why they were looking for a one-nighters. It was better than no-nighters. Passing on them all up the first week, Z's itch was getting frustrated. She was beginning to think this was a really bad idea. 

Late Thursday afternoon, Wendy signaled her to come to her desk with a brush of her hair. That was the established signal, and Z went by and picked up some more papers. A good-looking man was smiling back at her. "He claims he could bring it. I haven't seen him before; he may be new too." 

"Ok, wink back for me," Z told her, tucked the papers against her chest, and walked away. Her heart began to pound she was so excited. This was the craziest thing she had ever done. She hopes this doesn't blow up in her face as many of her hair-brain schemes seem to. 

At five o'clock, Wendy passed her a piece of paper with the correspondence from the man between her and the guy and his picture. Sneaky thing she was, she had printed it all off for her. She also gave her an e-mail site of her own for him to correspond with her. 

Walking out the side door together, they giggled about how quick he was to respond to her site. He was cute enough; he claims he is six feet tall, but most men do. What's the worst that can happen he speaks with a lisp and has dandruff. Oh yeah, he wears a size eight shoe, Z thought and laughed at her wit, looking at his picture as she rode home.

Z had some work to do before Saturday night. She needed a waxing, and she had to buy condoms. She was allergic to regular ones, so she had to buy the expensive ones. It was easier for her to have them than to explain the need to some man just looking for a good fuck. She also had to have thirty bucks cash for the hotel room. Wendy said she argued with the guy over that stickler. He wanted to pay, but Wendy told him no. Z did agree she should pay her fair share. It was her idea in the first place to wink back at him. 

He just accepted her wink. She should pay they are both getting something out of this, she hoped. God, she hoped she did. It would help offset what she is doing. The lengths she would go through just to feel good for once. He had better bring it.

Glancing at the picture, he looked outgoing, happy, maybe even the outdoorsy type, she thought as she looked at his picture printout. He looked proper, and she was amazed he would be on a site like that. Maybe he was new to the area and was looking to meet new people. Or maybe he was horny as hell and just looking for a one-nighter like she was. 

Whatever it was, it was just this one time unless he was fantastic. She will look for his reaction on her brand-new e-mail address. She prayed he was good and as good-looking as his picture. She hadn't lied about anything. What you see is what you get. She hoped this guy was the same. Ok, sure, she is an inch or so shorter and two years younger, but those were Wendy's puts, not hers. The main thing she didn't want was someone to play games with her life. He had better be good, too; she was taking a big step here. If he is a dud, she may just give up on men altogether. That depressed her. She was too young to live a loveless life.