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  Copyright © 2011 by Thirteen

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by

  Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 61

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

  Editor: Legacy Editing, http://legacyediting.com/

  Proofreader: Novellette Whyte

  http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/

  Formatter: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  ISBN: (e-book) 978-1-61788-193-0; (print) 978-1-61788-194-7

  To Rob, a man of honesty and candor. I knew this story rang true when you named it your favorite.

  NOTE ABOUT EBOOKS

  eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

  CAVEAT

  This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Liars!” It was the high-watermark at Bud’s Basement, that hour when the bar was almost a quarter full; which meant that a few of the chipped, Formica tables were occupied and most of the nine bar stools were taken. The night wasn’t old, but it was no longer young, and Roy was finishing off his second shot of tequila. “All women are fucking liars. It’s all we ever get from them.”

  “Tell it buddy!” That from a trio of beer-guzzlers at one of the tables. Roy knew they were mocking him; that was to be expected at a dive like Bud’s. Usually he haunted hotel bars, but tonight he wanted to get drunk and the dingy “Basement” was a very good place to get drunk. It was also a place where he could rant and no one would give a shit.

  “Airbrushed lies in magazines,” he went on, “corseted-mascaraed lies on dates. Lies about what they like. About what they want.”

  “Yeah!” His new buddies raised their mugs to him.

  “‘Are you happy?’ you ask them,” Roy pointed to his empty glass and the jaded bartender obligingly poured him another finger of Curveo Gold. “‘Of course, I’m happy,’ they tell you. Next thing you know, they’ve left you for some asshole with a bigger bank account. Why? ‘Cause you’re not making them happy! Liars!”

  “And you guys are so up front?” a woman’s voice suddenly demanded.

  Roy straightened up. What the hell? “I beg your pardon?” he snapped.

  “The first thing every asshole in high school learns to say to a girl is ‘I love you,’ instead of ‘I want to fuck you,” she went on, and that’s when he saw her. The bar was a half-square shape and she was seated at the corner opposite him, a raven-haired woman in an ivory colored dress.

  “Whoa.” There were a couple of ladies at the billiards table knocking about the balls. They’d been pointedly ignoring Roy, but now they were looking up. The one who’d spoken was grinning.

  “Oh, and talk about hiding your feelings—” the woman at the bar continued, gold earrings swinging. “That’s all men ever do. They won’t tell you what they’re thinking or feeling or want or need. It’s not ‘manly.’ Not manly. That’s just an excuse for keeping secrets.”

  “Oooo!” approved the ladies at the billiard table. “You go girl!”

  Roy scowled. He wasn’t about to let some cunt ruin his tirade. “Better than hiding the truth behind all those gushing confessions,” he lobbed back. “‘I want more tenderness. I want more attention. I want more pretty things.’ And what she really wants is to fuck someone else!”

  “Score!” One of the beer guys hooted.

  “Oh, please,” the woman at the bar sneered. “You guys do exactly the same thing. ‘Wear this, it’s sexy. Shave your crotch that’s sexy. Act like a slut, that’s so sexy.’ And then you complain that we’re not the girl you fell in love with. Why can’t you just come out and admit you’re tired of us?”

  “Gotcha!” a billiard girl crowed.

  “At least we give you ladies a chance,” Roy grumbled. “The moment you lay eyes on a guy you’re thinking of ways to change him. Maybe we should start the date by handing you a portfolio? Height, weight, allergies, salary, bad habits. And if you don’t like what you see, the date ends. No need to even try and remodel us.”

  “Dude!” another of the beer guys approved.

  “Not a bad idea,” the woman, surprisingly, nodded. “Everyone looks so damn good on a first date, wearing their Sunday best, talking themselves up. We should all be required to show ourselves at our worst. Full disclosure. Then we could dump or get dumped before things got serious.”

  “Yeah,” Roy found himself agreeing. Maybe it was the tequila, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Brutal honesty. Full disclosure. What would it be like to go on a date like that?

  From his front pocket came the sound of a ring. He pulled out his phone and checked the name. He was hoping for a call about an overseas transfer, but this was from one of his well-meaning friends. The ones who kept wanting to know how he was “holding up,” God save him. This was why he was throwing back tequila shots in a dump like Bud’s instead of enjoying cosmopolitans with them.

  Roy directed the call to voicemail and slipped the phone back into his pocket. His gaze wandered over to the woman at the corner of the bar. She had black hair—straight or straightened—hanging almost to the shoulder and large hoop-earrings. It was hard to tell as the lighting was poor and she was hunched over her drink, but she didn’t seem bad looking. The more he eyed her, the more the idea took root in his head. After trying without success to shake it, he paid for his drinks, sucked in a breath, adjusted his tie, and slipped off the stool.

  Janet felt the contentious bastard coming her way. Sipping at her margarita, she cursed herself for getting his attention, but—damn it!—she’d come here to get quietly drunk, not listen to misogynistic claptrap. Well, she was in it now. She stiffened her spine and readied herself for an all out fight as he stopped beside her and cleared his throat.

  “Roy,” he said, and she saw his hand, offered to her quite politely. She hesitated, in part because it was so unexpected, in part because she was suspicious. Would he try to crush her fingers? She’d known idiots who pulled that kind of crap. In the end, however, she was not going to be intimidated. She accepted his grip. The hand was square and fleshy, surprisingly warm and firm. She released it as quickly as she could. “Janet.”

  He slipped onto the empty stool next to her. He was one of those square sort of guys, broad in shoulder and chest, average in height. Dark hair fell over a high forehead, and an arrogant nose separated wary eyes. He didn’t look temperamental, not like he’d sounded a moment ago
.

  “So you got dumped, too?” he ventured.

  “End of last month,” Janet said cautiously.

  “Beginning of this month for me,” Roy said.

  “My condolences,” she muttered, then, warily, “I hope to hell you’re not going to suggest we pair up. Last thing I want to do is go out on a pity date.”

  The bitterness in her tone was raw enough to scare Roy. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea? Hmm… and it was a good idea to spend the night getting sick on Tequila?

  He licked his lips. “Better than that. I think we ought to go on a Full Disclosure.”

  She took a sip of her drink. “Come again?”

  “What do you do on a date?”

  “Get to know the other person.” She shrugged. “Spend time together.”

  “Try to impress each other,” he pointed out. “But here’s my proposal: we do the exact opposite. Instead of presenting our best attributes, we lay out our worst. No trying to fool each other. Complete honesty.”

  She had dark, arching butterfly brows. They rose, intrigued. “Okay. And after we know why we don’t want to be with each other, what then?”

  “No, no. You don’t get it. We were dumped. And I don’t know about you, but there were all these things that my ex never liked about me. Stuff she was always complaining about and trying to change.”

  He heard the ire in his voice and checked it. He didn’t want to scare her away. “I think you and I should build our whole evening around those things. Our flaws and bad habits. Bring it all out into the open. That’s full disclosure. I mean, now that our exes have left us, why bother trying to hide or avoid doing all that shit? It’s not like they’re around to make us feel wrong about it, right?”

  “That…that sounds—” she tilted her head and he held his breath ready for the word “ridiculous” “—remarkably therapeutic,” she finished to his surprise, “A big ‘Fuck you!’ to them and their demands.”

  “Does that mean you want to do it?”

  “Do I want to do it?” she echoed. She had a thoughtful way about her as if she was trying to keep things balanced, but he noticed that a smile was twitching at her lips, and her dark eyes were gleaming. “Why the hell not? I haven’t any other plans.” She drained her margarita. “Where do we start?”

  “Where most dates end,” he said, hopping off his barstool. “Come on. We’re going to the bathroom.”

  “What?” Janet grabbed onto her seat. The man’s enthusiasm had wooed away her apprehension, even seduced her into feeling devil-may-care—or maybe that was the margaritas. Now, however, her very sober suspicions slammed back into her.

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” he sighed, and eyed her as if she were a child scared of jumping off a diving board. “Scout’s honor. Come on. Don’t chicken out.”

  Turning from Janet, Roy made for the restroom. Either she was going to follow and they’d do this, or she wouldn’t and he’d wash up and go home. He was almost to the door when he heard her heels clicking behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her standing a few steps back. She clutched her purse, looking ready to run. There was something both brave and vulnerable about her that touched him and made him want to do right by her. Glancing side to side, he made sure no one was watching, then opened the door and slipped in.

  Janet, stung by Roy’s remarks about being chicken, followed him into the bar’s toilet even as she wondered if she was being a total idiot. As bar toilets went, Bud’s wasn’t horrible. Not so good smelling, but fairly big and clean enough. Heart pounding in her ears, she shut and locked the door but kept her back to it, one hand on the knob. Her other hand kept her purse close. She had a can of mace in it; if Roy made one wrong move she’d not only be out of there, but she’d leave him blind and screaming.

  In the harsh, bathroom light, Roy finally got a good look at Janet. She appeared to be around his own age, and nearly the same height, probably a bit shorter without the heels. Her figure had a lot of soft curves, very much to his taste, and her off-white dress revealed nice cleavage and smooth, sexy olive skin. Moving up he saw high, elegant cheekbones and full lips. Thick lashes surrounded eyes that were beautifully black, like smoky quartz.

  She still had her hand on the doorknob, and Roy, in turn, stayed as far from her as he could in the small restroom. There was no reason she should trust him after the less than sterling first impression he’d made on her. It occurred to him, in fact, that what he was about to do might make an even worse impression. He could end up being kicked in the nuts for this, but like running down hill, he felt it was too late to stop now.

  “Okay, first, you need to wash off your make-up,” he said.

  “My make-up?” she echoed, and then her expression lightened. “Oh! I get it.” She fished packaged cleansing wipes out of her purse and shifted to the sink.

  “Now, I don’t want you to panic,” Roy went on as she erased shadow from her eyelids and lipstick from her mouth, “But I’m going to take off my clothes.”

  “What?” She shot a look back at him.

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” he insisted. “I know how I sounded out there. But I’m a gentleman. Really.”

  He put down the toilet lid, sat and got off his shoes, then his jacket, tie and shirt. As he started to unbuckle his belt, Janet finished up and turned to watch. Her eyes looked less large without the make-up, the lips less full, but her naked face was very nice indeed.

  “You take your clothes off, too,” he urged.

  “Why?”

  “Full disclosure.”

  “Look, I don’t want to—”

  “Not sex!” Roy sighed, dropping his pants. “Most couples see each other in glamorous clothes, get drunk, go to bed in a dark room. It isn’t till the next morning that they see what they’ve fucked. You are not going to have to do any of that. Full disclosure. I’m going to show you all my imperfections upfront. And I kinda hope you’ll return the favor. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  There was something in Roy’s voice that made Janet check her impulse to leave and forget all about this screwy idea. The angry tone was back, the one deriding women. Only it didn’t sound merely angry this time, it sounded resigned. He was standing there in his tighty-whiteys, face flushed as if she’d just made a fool of him. If she didn’t go along with this, she would make a fool of him. Hell if she was going to let him think she was like that. She sat down on the toilet seat and removed her shoes and stockings.

  “Could you unzip me?” she turned and he obligingly got her out of the dress. The casual intimacy of that moment, as if they were lovers rather than strangers, struck her as bizarre. She hung the dress up on the wall hook, then turned. The quiet between them turned thick, and awkward as they eyed each other in embarrassment. Roy in his briefs, Janet in black panties and bra.

  Roy glanced down at his unflattering love handles, at the fur on his belly and legs. Fuck it. “I’ll go first,” he said, shoving down his underwear to expose a nest of pubic hair. His penis and balls had shrunken up, trying to hide away; the rosy tip of his cock peered out. He stood up straight, hands at his sides.

  “There,” he said. “This is what I look like. This is me. All my flab and hair and moles and flaws. This is what my ex, Lila, no longer wants to fuck.”

  Janet’s eyes flickered up and down, taking him in. Roy felt a flutter in his gut. He’d never been so naked in his life. His courage fled and his throat went tight. He had a sudden fear that Janet was going to laugh. Lila, he mused, would have. And then Janet reached back and snapped off her bra. Her breasts came down, not sagging but past being pert. There were some stretch marks. He saw brown areolas and large, heavy nipples. She slipped off her underwear, exposing a black triangle.

  “Here I am,” Janet said as bravely as she could. She would have never imagined the angry guy at the bar could have gotten her to do this—could have amazed her with his boldness into doing it. She turned to display her ass. “This is one of the reasons Billy, my ex, left me.
Cottage cheese thighs,” she pointed out, “And this.” Her hand brushed her belly. “I’ve tried everything, diet, exercise. I can shrink it down, but I can’t get it firm. It’s always going to be soft.”

  “Hey, I like women with some give,” Roy said, which she thought was very gallant of him. “Shall we get dressed?”

  Roy helped Janet snap on her bra and zip up and she handed him his shirt. They were silent and awkward as they tugged and adjusted fabric back into place, she leaving off the stockings, he pocketing the tie. Roy guessed Janet was feeling like he was, uncertain about what they’d just done. Anonymous sex couldn’t have been more intimate.

  They got looks as they stepped out of the toilet. Their partisans in particular—the beer drinking guys and the billiard ladies—didn’t seem to know whether to snicker or frown.

  What we’re up to is none of your business! Roy almost snapped and protectively took Janet by the arm. She pointed out her coat and he helped her on with it. After getting his on, he held the door open for her and they stepped out into the cool, windy night.

  “Where do you live?” Janet asked and looked him in the eye for the first time since the bathroom.

  He told her. She nodded sagely. “I think I know what we should do next. We’ll both need to change. You head on home and put on something comfortable. I mean lazy Sunday comfortable. I’ll swing by to pick you up. Have you had dinner?”

  “Um, no.” He’d skipped dinner thinking he’d just nosh on happy hour freebies—that was, until he’d seen what Bud’s Basement’s offered on that score and decided to just drink. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace where there’s no hiding from the awful truth.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tricky Dog was certainly the opposite of soft lighting and elegant dining. The tables were small and plastic, as were the chairs.

  ”Do you like onions?” Janet asked as the counterman set their chilidogs on a second orange tray.