Good Girl(4)

I tap my fingertips against the steering wheel as I follow the signs pointing me to the employee parking sections of the garage. The resort opens in less than a month, and new hires will be starting en masse over the next four weeks. I'm a back-of-house hire, meaning I'm not on the front lines with the guests. I'll disappear into the corporate section of the resort that you never think about. Human resources, legal, marketing, IT, accounting: it's all in-house, tucked away out of sight.

Finding an open spot, I park and double-check my lipstick in the visor mirror, then I lock my car and make a mental note of where I've parked so I can find my car after work.

Okay, this is it. First day, here I come. It occurs to me that this is going to be a big year of firsts for me. First grown-up apartment. First job. First student loan payment.

And I'm absolutely, positively ditching my virginity before this year is over, so that'll be a great big first to check off my life list.

It's not as if I haven't had chances to ditch it prior to now, it's just that I haven't been that interested. I grew up with liberal parents in a conservative town, and I was sort of caught in the middle between those two worlds. Also, I simply wasn't in a huge hurry about it. Junior year I dated a guy I didn't like that much for way longer than I should have because I liked his cat. And no, that is not a euphemism for something cooler. It was an actual cat. A huge, black, long-haired cat with white mitten paws that went by the name of Mr. McGee, and I loved him.

The guy, not so much.

I'm not saying that it was either reasonable or logical, but it is what it is.

I was still waiting for something, you know? Something that made me feel like ripping my panties off, and that feeling never came. But whatever, this is my panty-ripping year. Or maybe it's my panty-dropping year? I probably won't rip my own panties off, will I? No, that would be weird. I'll drop them, for sure. I'm open to a guy ripping them off for me, but I've never worn the kind of underwear that would snap apart under a man's hands.

Shoot. I need new underwear.

If this is my year, I'm going to need the appropriate underwear for when it happens. I make a mental note to reward myself with new undies when I get my first paycheck. Another first! My first adult paycheck! Whoohoo!

I enter the building through the employee entrance, confident that I'm about to embark on the best year of my life.

An hour later, I'm certain of it.





Three





LYDIA



I spot him while I'm on the resort tour. That guy. The one from the other night who kissed me but whose name I did not get. He's just as perfect as I remembered. He makes my heart race and my pulse beat even faster than I remembered. Holy shit, I think he might work here. Which basically means I'm going to sleep with him, right? Right. It's totally happening. Meant to be. Kismet. Fate.

If he's interested, that is. But he did kiss me, so he might be interested in having sex with me. I think. I'm not exactly sure how that works for men. I've kissed men I didn't want to sleep with, obviously, but I think men are less picky than women. Aren't they? God, I hope he's less picky than I am, 'cause I think he's the one.

The one I'd like to have sex with, not the one one. No, of course not. I'm not so crazy that I'm planning marriage and babies with some man I do not know based on one perfect kiss. I still want to fall in love with the perfect man, whoever he is, and live happily ever after with him. It's just that I don't know when he's coming, that guy. What if I'm thirty before he shows up? I shouldn't have to wait until I'm thirty to experience sex.

So no, I'm not planning on marrying him. I just want to give him my virginity, because I do think that he'd be really good at deflowering me based on that one perfect kiss. Because I feel something when I see him. Something I'm not that familiar with but that I'd classify as unbridled lust. A longing. A stirring, if you will.

Deflowering. What a ridiculous word. I make a mental note not to use it when I ask him to have sex with me.

"I think I saw that guy," I tell Payton when I see her in the employee cafeteria at lunch. By cafeteria I mean the swankiest cafeteria I've ever been in. There's a salad bar, a sandwich station, a pizza station and a variety of hot selections that look like they might change daily, based on the printed menu. And it's free! How crazy is that? The employee benefits are top-notch, which is part of what attracted me to this job. Though it was more the 401k matching and health insurance plan than the free lunches for employees, but still. It's a super-cool perk. The entire staff has access to this cafeteria too. Front-of-house, back-of-house, it doesn't matter. The general manager and the housekeeper will all use the same cafeteria, which I think is amazing and equalizing and all that stuff. It's a huge space, more like a buffet really, which will be necessary to accommodate the number of employees who will be working here once we're at full staff.

"Which guy?" Payton asks before taking a huge bite from a slice of pizza. She's a tiny slip of a thing despite chowing food with the metabolism of a boy in high school.

"The guy from the bar. From the other night."

"Shut up." She drops the pizza onto her plate and grins a grin that would make the Cheshire cat proud. "Here?" she questions, one brow arched in delight at the potential entertainment this will provide her.