A Blind Date

Sinead glanced down at her plate again, then back up at Connor.

“So you’re a cop, huh?” her date asked.

“A detective,” Sinead corrected him. “Like your cousin.”

“Right, right,” he nodded. “So have you ever shot anyone?”

Sinead had dolled herself up. After her phone call with Jules, her best friend and former partner had laid into her on an almost hourly basis to make sure Sinead wouldn’t back out, so she’d decided that if she was going to do this blind date thing she would do it right. She used the tips that the hairdresser Marc had hired had given her. She’d made sure her nails with the sexy silver French tips had been in good condition. She’d tried on a dozen outfits before settling on a green dress that played well with her hair, then matched it with her leather coat and some gold jewellery.

She’d felt wrong when she’d considered wearing the stuff that Marc had bought her. Like she needed to… not keep it sacred or anything, but separate from this. Whatever this was going to be.

Connor had picked her up in his BMW. He was a surgeon, half-Japanese and sporting a chiselled jaw and wicked smile that likely would have cemented a happy end to their night then and there if she wasn’t thinking of Marc’s fucking smile. Before they made it to the restaurant she got the story on him - he just got out of a three-year relationship with another doctor, and she’d cheated on him with an admin at the hospital, it had been messy but he was trying to move on.

Not exactly the teasing, suave way that Marc directed conversation.

And there was nothing wrong with the Cheesecake Factory for a first, slightly casual first date. In almost any other circumstance, she would have been thrilled for an easy night out of carbs and sugar packed into tasty dishes. Fuck, she loved the Cheesecake Factory and had ordered it on delivery more than once.

But…

That night at George, and the wine, and the food. The smell of each dish even as it was just being walked by her to another table. The ambience, and the glamour. Marc, sitting across the table in his perfectly fitted suit, with that fucking smile, teasing her and encouraging her to eavesdrop on her target.

Fuck Marc.

“I have,” Sinead said, spearing her fork into the mess of delicious, carby noodles on her plate and twirling it to get a nice mouthful. “Is that a problem?”

“Well, no,” Connor said. “I mean, as a surgeon I abhor ****, but I can understand why it’s necessary for the police. I’d rather Canada leaned more towards the British way of things than the Americans, though.”

“You mean we should walk around with billy clubs as our only standard defensive armament? You want us to stop people with knives and guns with sticks?”

He frowned, clearly realising he’d stepped his foot in something he hadn’t seen coming. “I guess that makes sense,” he said. “Still, it’s my job to repair the holes people put in each other. You can’t blame me for wishing it didn’t need to be.”

“Wishes don’t make reality,” Sinead said. What she really wanted to do was point out the time his cousin had gotten jumped by three tweakers while she was a street cop and the only reason she hadn’t gotten beaten bloody, or worse, was that she’d had her gun.

Sinead took a sip of her wine, trying to wash out the memory from her mind, and pursed her lips.

It was… OK.

Fuck, I’m being such a bitch, she thought to herself. Fuck Marc.

Sinead pivoted the conversation, asking more about Connor’s work and the hospital. She found herself easing into basic interrogation techniques, asking him prompting questions. Smiling to encourage more detail, nodding along as if agreeing. Connor began to smile more, leaning forward in his seat, engaged in the conversation. Talking about himself.

By the time they ordered dessert, Connor was taking glances down at Sinead's lips, and occasionally at her cleavage. She knew she didn’t have much there to offer, but she also knew how to make use of what she did have. The pushup bra was doing work tonight to fill out the bust of her dress.

The dress Marc had bought her didn’t need that effort though. It accented her slim frame instead of needing her to adapt to it. She’d worn it once since that night, just looking at herself in the mirror after a long fucking day at work, and it had made her feel gorgeous even with messy hair and bags under her eyes from scanning computer screens and printouts all day.

Fuck Marc!

Sinead purposefully started to flirt with Connor, reaching across the table to touch his arm. She even traded him bites of their cheesecake slices.

Connor was attractive. His mixed heritage gave him a beautifully handsome face. He also had nicely sized hands, and they had to be dextrous if he was a surgeon, right? And he dressed well, his suit fit him. It wasn’t quite as tailored as Marc looked when he was done up, but it was nice.

She could fuck him. He was definitely fuckable. And based on how Jules had talked, that was exactly what she thought they both needed. Sinead was, to Jules’ knowledge, on a dry spell, and so was Connor. Technically Sinead was on a dry spell since what had happened with Marc had only been her giving him oral and him rubbing her pussy, but she was also fucking herself a lot at home so it didn’t feel like a dry spell.

“Let me pay my half,” Sinead said, reaching into her purse as the waitress brought over the check.

“No, please,” Connor said. “It’s a first date, I have to pay.”

Marc wouldn’t care if it was the first or tenth-

“OK,” Sinead said, interrupting her own thoughts because Fuck Marc. “If you’re sure.”

They didn’t have any other plans. No movie, or going dancing, or even for a drink at a bar. Connor brought her home and got out of the car to open the door for her.

“Thanks,” Sinead said, looking up at Connor as he huddled close to her in the cold and smiled down at her. He was definitely fuckable. Nice face, nice lips. Strong chin. Good hands.

She went on her toes in her boots and kissed him on the cheek. “Have a good night,” she said and went into her building.

Upstairs in her apartment, she went into her room and stripped off her dress, looking at herself in the mirror in her lingerie. She’d been planning on fucking him. Why the fuck hadn’t she invited him up? He’d been hoping for it. By the look on his face when she’d kissed his cheek, maybe even expecting it. So why was she alone?

Sinead stripped off her bra and took down the dress, slipped it on, and looked at herself in the mirror. Then she slipped one shoulder off, letting it fall and expose her tit. Then the other, and she felt it slip down her body and slither to the floor.

It didn’t take long, once she was on her bed, the gusset of her thong pulled to the side as she slowly pumped her dildo into herself.

“Fuck, Marc,” she whimpered, hating that it was getting her off.

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