Page 35 of An Indecent Longing

Dorrie grimaced. Like their father, Risa was intractable about some things. Blank was one. Dorrie shouldn’t have pushed. She knew her sister lived under a different type of microscope than Dorrie, and though she handled it well, there were things she just couldn’t fight.

“I’m sorry, Ris. So what am I supposed to wear tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Ben asked me out on a date tonight and I don’t know what to wear.”

It took a second but Risa started to laugh. “Well, you’re just full of surprises. Did you sleep with him?”

“No.” She almost told Risa about her dream but figured she didn’t want to complicate things. “He’s nice.”

“Does that mean you can’t sleep with him?”

The dry tone of Risa’s question made Dorrie sigh. “No, it means he was a gentleman.”

“Doesn’t mean he can’t screw your brains out?”

“Ris.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. If you like him, let him take you to bed. Work out some of that stress.”

“Sure, okay. But before that, what the hell am I supposed to wear tonight?”

The more she thought about it, the more she began to stress about it.

“Stop worrying. I can practically hear you grinding your teeth through the phone. Just video call me when you’re getting ready and I’ll talk you through it. Do you know where he’s taking you?”

She had no idea where they were going, which was a huge stress trigger for her to begin with. Throw in the fact that she liked this guy and she wanted to hyperventilate.

“No. Shit, I should’ve asked. What if I’m supposed to wear jeans and I show up in a dress? Or the other way around? Do you think—”

“Whoa, slow down. Jesus, you would think you’ve never been on a date and I know that’s not true.”

Technically it wasn’t true. She’d been on a few true dates with men but, if she were honest, not in years. Every man she’d been out with in the past few years had been either a colleague accompanying her to a function or… Well, damn. Maybe she hadn’t been on any real dates since college.

And she didn’t count the two men she’d slept with in the past three years. Those had been short-term affairs with only one goal in mind. Sex.

“Dorrie? Hey, where’d you go?”

“I’m here. Just freaking out about the fact that I can’t remember the last time I was on a real date.”

“What do you mean, a real date?”

“I mean a date where a guy asks me out, picks me up, and takes me somewhere.”

“What about that doctor from Maryland?”

“I asked him to go with me to that dinner.”

“And that other guy? The one from Chester?”

“Hookup.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. And he wasn’t all that good.”

“You never told me that.”

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