The Innocent Wildcard

I kick off my shoes after a long day serving drinks at the country club. I groan and reach down to press on the red areas of my feet. Damn it...I need new shoes...or I need to stop standing for so long. I'm sure they're swollen. I close the hotel room door, which is where I live since it's closer to my job and cuts rent in half. $30 a night beats $950 any day. That's not even including bills. At my last place, a one-room apartment, my rent was $1250. I'm saving $350, which is nice. I can use it on necessities. I walk to the club, which is five miles away.

I don't mind walking twice daily to keep my stomach flat.

My soles are killing me! I open the glassy door to the shower-tub combo in my bathroom, while I run cool water. I turn to the vanity, where a bowl sink and tall mirror are. An olive-skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl stares back at me in the mirror, yeah that's me. Hmm...I'm breaking out, I noticed. I move closer to examine the pimples all over my forehead. "Ugh! I need to cut out sugar." My light voice pouts, then sighs. My hands open a bottom cabinet on the vanity to retrieve Epsom salt while I walk back to the tub and pour the salt in. I sit on the wide ledge and swing my feet over to submerge them into the steaming water. Ahh...that's so much better! A buzz from my back pocket makes me smirk. I slide it out, face unlock my phone and click on Tinder. Nine messages wait. I reply to each.

All the men were thirsty and all they wanted was sex, I teased some and left the rest hanging. I rub my sore back as I view 3k matches and swipe right on a dozen. Each of the guys is a 10 in looks and they could even model. But I know looks don't always mean the guy will be the one. Hot guys are sluts....man whores, not husband material. They're good to toy with and nice to look at, but that wears off after a while. Beautiful men don't seem to settle down until they've sown their oats as much as possible. I need someone who's hubby material. I'm not dumb. I know I won't find that on Tinder. I'm just on the app to pass the time while I wait for Mr. Right.

Some people think men don't want virgins. But I think men find us hotter than fast girls or cam girls. Judging by the men in my inbox, which has to be close to one hundred, I found that this surprises and arouses them. I haven't had one guy get turned off; instead, they wonder how tight I am. I love telling them I'm completely untouched.

No insertion of any kind has gone inside me. Sex toys aren't for everyone. Some guys ask if I don't have experience, then how would I be good at sex? I study technique books for mouth positions and sex positions.

Their stunned replies always amuse me. I guess they think virgins are still living in the 1950s. They probably think I don't masturbate...I do. I'm not entirely insane! All I know is that I won't be unprepared. Whoever my future husband is will be screaming on our wedding night. And yes, the honeymoon will be traditional. No sex beforehand...yet fooling around will be allowed.

**********************************

In the morning, I wake with my hair all over my head and the sheets in a twist around my body. The alarm from my phone blares the air like a siren. The only sound that works for me. I showered, washed the suds from my hair, flipped it back, and then got out. I take two towels from a rack and wrap one around my head, then one around my breast. For breasts that are a 24b cup, I'd like them bigger and higher. This is one of my flaws. If only I had money to throw away my insecurities. The FaceTime tone vibrates my phone. I rush to the counter and read the screen.

Who is ZaddyC, and why is he FaceTiming me?

I ignored it and dressed up. I snap on a Dream Angels bra from Victoria's Secret, slip into black jeans and a cream shirt, and plop my feet into work shoes. My hands rub the towel across my head, then lower it to wring out the bottom strands. On the way out, I slide the phone into my back pocket and tie my hair into a bun. The weather outside is scorching. The sun is working overtime today, and the wind, nonexistent. Oh god, why didn't I grab a bottle of water?!

My legs power walk the busy streets of downtown California. Gas stations, restaurants, banks, theaters, libraries, and cafes line the way to the Santa Rosa Country Club. I work at a private estate that resembles a mansion full of oval windows. It has the greenest grass ever. The gold and gray roof shingles give it the feel of a beach house on steroids. The balconies and pillars which connect the bottom foundation are classy and enormous.

The acres of land that enclose the estate hold ponds and golf resorts as far as the eye can see. I've been working here for three years now and enjoy the favoritism from my boss. I offered to take double shifts only if I could ditch dress pants.

Slacks don't look good on everyone...I look disproportioned in them. The little hips I have disappear, and my butt flattens like an old woman's. I couldn't look like that at a fancy-ass country club! My future husband could be here and get turned off! Although, that's a pipe dream.

It's not that easy to snag a rich man. My friend Taylor and I have been trying, but the wives always make it difficult for us. Either them or their children. It's crazy how men think women are all objects to be toyed with. Hard pass, however, it was fun flirting with the dudes. Both of us needed to strengthen our dirty talk game somehow.

I reach the lobby of the clubhouse and I am relieved when the central air hits me when the double doors open. I gasp as a shuddering sensation jolts my entire body. I wonder if that's what it feels like when a guy cums inside a woman. If so, yes, please. A wide staircase on dark pink walls trimmed with white greets me. On each side of the large room sit two check-in desks. I step to the one on the left.

The receptionist, a brown-haired guy a bit older than me, smiles maliciously. "It's pretty hot, huh?"

"Don't... please!" I chuckle.

"You're sweating, maybe I should cool you off?" He cocks a brow.

"Just check me in, Nate."

"Oh nice, will you stay the night alone in your room or do a walk of shame from mine in the morning?" He leans forward supporting his head with his hand. Okay, that's tempting but I'll pass...he knows what he's doing, I'd give him that.

"Keep dreaming."

"Oh, trust me, I will."

I pick up a stack of letters and whack him with it. "You play too much."

"Maybe you should join me. It'll be fun with two players. Come on; you're single; I'm single. Why aren't we banging?" He puts on a smooth tone to animate his deep voice.

"Are you ready to get married?."

"Ahhh..." He mumbles dejectedly. "You gotta be the only woman doing it that way." He types on a computer and then hands over my ID.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not." I wink before ascending the stairs. I do so with my waist thrust so my booty is more pronounced as I climb the steps. As I teasingly peer back at Nate.

"You're not being fair at all." He groans.

"I have no clue what you mean." I smile to one side and bat my lashes. Upstairs is a carbon copy of what's downstairs. The only difference is the dining area and bar stations. Sets of French doors lead out to a real-life paradise. A few workers wipe tables, sweep, wash dishes, and dust chandeliers in the empty hall.

"Hey, boo." Taylor waves. She has a chubby face, unlike my slim one, and her eyes are golden in the harsh sunlight.

"Ready for the day?"

"Yeah, I love nothing more than snobby rich assholes sending food back."

I help her wash the dishes, wine glasses, and silverware. "The best customers ever, especially when they don't tip."

"The cheapness of it all, I swear. We can't save up for college this way."

"We can work on our credit and take out a loan?"

"Then we'll have to pay it back, though," Taylor grumbles. "I wish our parents had savings instead of just throwing us out after graduation."

"Me too...this sucks. The one job we thought we'd be racking up with is a letdown."

"It's never too late to be a stripper." Taylor winks.

"We got the moves." I dance with my shoulders.

"Speaking of moves, wanna hit a real club tonight?"

"Um...I don't want to go alone....and be the third wheel again." I mumble.

"Invite one of your Tinder boos."

"I could, but I don't know. The guy might think we're dating."

"Girl, you're on a dating site." Taylor's light voice chimes with annoyance.

"I know...but I don't want to imply too fast."

"You're dramatic." Taylor splashes me with bubbly water. "Try out dating. How are you gonna know a guy is worth it if you don't date him first??"

My mouth drops to the floor. "You did not just-" I splash Taylor back.

"Don't be a square. Find the cutest one and ask him out. You could be missing the one by not doing that. Just open the mystery box take a peek, and see what you get."

"Maybe you're right..."

"I am."

"Don't get cocky."

"I bet you I'm right."

"Dude, picking a random guy won't lead to a ring on my finger,"

Taylor rolls her eyes. "Have some faith...surprises happen. Just make sure his package is big."

"I'll size him up." I laugh wildly.

I start my day by serving orange juice to people having breakfast because it's too early for them to have alcohol. Taylor is also a waitress here, and she's busy taking plates of hotcakes, sausages, eggs, and oatmeal to the tables. I've always been curious about the fancy food they serve, but it's quite expensive, and I can't afford to spend that much. Right now, I need to save my money.

There's some classy jazz music playing in the background, creating a relaxed atmosphere, well, more like a fancy one. The women in the room are dressed in the most luxurious silk dresses, and the men seem to be wearing either suede or velvet, but it's hard to tell from here. Even the kids are dressed in expensive fabrics that probably make them feel like princes and princesses. It must be incredible to wear such royal clothing and experience a childhood like a dream come true.

The dining area is always crowded, and there's a group of four men who regularly finish their meals early and head out to the golf course. I think they might be businessmen because they follow the same routine every time. One of them, with dark hair, holds the French door open for the others and waits patiently.

There's something about this particular man that takes my breath away, especially when I see him on Sundays. He has broad shoulders, striking green eyes, jet-black hair, full lips, and he's quite tall. I'm sure he has a wife, so I've never approached him. I watch him from a distance, secretly admiring his bushy eyebrows and long eyelashes. He's dressed in a silver suit jacket, slacks, and a white dress shirt with the top three buttons casually undone, revealing a bit of chest hair.

I've often wondered about his life and what it might be like, but I can only admire him from afar, too shy to make a move.

I gawk at this beautiful man who would never go for a girl like me. Who would never pay attention to the help unless paying a bill? My eyes scale his bottom half; he has thick legs and an impressive ass for a guy.

"Ogling again?" Taylor whispers from behind me, "12 O'clock!"

Out of curiousity, i stylishly look backwards,

"I don't get why you haven't made a move." Taylor said

"Because he never notices me." i replied

"Well, of course not, not with you being this far away." She scoffs. We both watch him stroll out of the door. Our eyes go to his bubble ass. "You know you want that juicy booty." She joked

I snort and turn away to hush her as a lady nears the counter. "Five glasses of orange juice, please...no sugar." The short lady demands conceitedly.

"Yes, ma'am." I pull a tray from below, add five glasses to it, and pour liquid into each spilling nothing. I lift the heavy tray with ease. My balance is perfect as I hand it over to Taylor.

"Where to, ma'am?" The woman leads my friend away. I'm thankful for this. It means the subject is dropped. That guy wants nothing to do with me. It's been about a year of playing a one-sided peep show. He's out of my league and most likely dates models with flawless skin or the athletic type. I'm neither. I peer through the doors and watch the dreamy guy cover the green grass with a firm stride. The ripples of his shirt flare between his muscles, revealing curved lines. "Still spying?" Taylor asked, "He's just everything i want in man but he's to intimidating and besides my acne face is discouraging that's enough for him to talk down at me". I replied. "Besides he might be married" I added.

"You're gorgeous, don't sell yourself short" she said.

"Fine." I sigh .

When nighttime hits, the grounds outside shine. There are circular lights along the pathways. The beige tint reminds me of how a night wedding would look. The grand hall, the music, even the four-tier strawberry cake for dessert takes my mind to a fantasy. I've had my wedding planned out for years. I kind of went crazy over it after my prom. I have the theme picked out, the songs, the place, a tent wedding, and even the ring.

Of course, my younger self went overboard, but I've always been a girl who would rather wait. I never had a boyfriend because of how the boys at school turned me off. They were so rude. They never knew boundaries when it came to their hands.

Guys my age have been alienated from my attraction radar. Guys in their mid-twenties are my preference. I'm not so sure about going any older than that. I'm 22 and would like someone who is no older than 25. The crowds outside load away golfing equipment into caddies and flood back inside. I unlock a glass cabinet of bottles, selecting liquors and wines. I load the counter with glasses, then fix my hair; the bun is starting to wear out.

A line forms before the bar. The first customer is an old man who eyes me up and down. My skin crawls at how licentious his stare becomes. "Hello, sir. What drink would you like?"

"Something sweet, like you, honey. Surprise me."

I pick out booze, two rums, grenadine and mix it in a cocktail shaker. I shake for ten seconds, then pour the yellow drink into a tall glass, topped by a lemon and cherry on the straw. "Enjoy."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He winks.

The next customer is an older guy, too. He orders a Brandy Infinite. I use cognac, white creme de cacao, a heavy cream and shake it up. As I pour it, the man with dark and gray hair says, "you have beautiful hands."

"Thank you." I pass him his glass. "Enjoy your drink."

The line grows onward from here. Every adult requests a drink, to the point that all the servers come to assist me. They set up their stations the same as mine, then accept customers. I move faster than them. For every one of their customers, I do three. I have a record set here for the fastest served drinks. Taylor hands off to her last customer, then looks my way. "He might come up."

"No, it's always the blonde guy who gets the drinks, not him." When everyone in the room is seated, I take my break. The breakroom is down the hall and around the corner, next to the restrooms. I didn't pack a lunch, so I'll have to get a vending machine salad, which might be a good thing. My skin needs more of veggies and water. I buy the meal, along with water, and sit alone at a table. I pass the time by snacking while reading my tinder messages. There he was, desperate ZaddyC who later got pissed that I didn't reply and ended up unmatching me, anyways good riddance.

I sort through my other messages. I have fifteen now. I should try out Taylor's suggestion and choose a hot guy. I browse my matches tab until I find a guy who looks nice and with a personality. One guy is cute enough. He walks dogs as a job, and plays hockey. His bio reads:

Looking for good conversation and nice times out.

Hmm...maybe I can ask him out. He's 24, just in my range, and has an amazing smile. I text his profile to Taylor and then lay my phone down. I hope tonight won't be a disaster...and I hope Taylor stops being optimistic about me landing that rich man.