Making Things Happen

Bianca stared at her phone impatiently. The text to Joey had gone unanswered for hours now.

Hey good looking. Do you need me today?

Staring at the text, she could see that he'd received it. She could even see that he'd read it. And yet Joey had not responded.

She wasn’t a fool. She knew exactly what this meant. Men like Joey had needs. Sexual needs. And if he wasn’t getting back to her, if he wasn't asking Bianca to take care of those needs, then she wasn’t fulfilling her role. It was as simple as that.

Bianca's upbringing had been less than ideal, but she was pragmatic enough to be able to recognize that she had learned a thing or two despite the trauma. There was no way that Joey, a young man, pumped full of testosterone and societally informed unrealistic expectations of how women should act, wasn't in need of sexual gratification. A lot of sexual gratification. From women, sure, but she knew how well guys got to know their own hands. Every time a man told her he knew something like the back of his hand, she smirked, wondering if he knew it better than the front. So if Joey wasn't calling her back, then he was probably getting it somewhere else.

Well, Bianca wasn’t going to let that happen.

Leaning back in her chair, Bianca decided that it was time to stop waiting around for Joey to come to her. If he wasn’t reaching out, then it was on her to make him reach out. If Joey was using a different method to find sexual gratification, then the problem wasn't Joey's, it was Bianca's. She was the one who had a role to play in his life, she was the one who was supposed to be providing the gratification. It was time for her to take an active role. She'd had enough of her life wasted on men deciding what her life was going to be, letting them dictate the terms of their relationships. She needed to grow up, act like a strong, independent woman, and find that young man so she could let him use her.

It was time to take control.

She grabbed her phone, opened a browser, and started typing, searching for any trace of him. Joey Granger. She hit enter.

Nothing.

She frowned. Nothing? She expected something—an article, an award, maybe some mention of him in a school newsletter. But there was nothing. Not a whisper of Joey Granger anywhere. That made no sense. Everyone was on someone’s radar, right? No athletic awards, no academic achievements; hell, even social media was quiet. She checked a few accounts with his name, but none of them seemed to match. Joey wasn’t showing up anywhere. It was like he didn’t exist in any meaningful way.

Variations on his name came up with similar results. Joseph. Joe. Granger Joe. All of it with no results. The few social media accounts without profile pictures were locked down on privacy. She wasn't **** enough to start messaging a bunch of strangers to find him.

Not yet, at least.

Fine. If that was how it was going to be, Bianca could play along. She wasn’t going to waste time chasing down a ghost. She had another route to take.

Donna. Joey's supposed mother. Switching her search focus gave instant results. There she was: Donna Granger, the lawyer. Bianca’s fingers flew over the screen, a grin growing on her face. Donna's office was right near Sage & Cedar! Bingo! This was more like it. If Joey was tied to Donna in some way, then finding Donna was her best bet. She’d figure out a way to get to him through her.

With a satisfied grin, Bianca tossed her phone aside and started thinking. In order to get to Joey, Bianca would need to do this right. Donna was a lawyer. She was refined, polished, used to wearing the kind of clothes that screamed professional success. At the restaurant, Bianca had noticed Donna's outfit, how put together she looked, sexy yet professional.

But Bianca wasn’t Donna. She didn’t have the same designer wardrobe—hell, she didn’t even have a wardrobe that could pass for high-end. But she wasn’t about to let that stop her. She could still work with what she had.

She pulled out a fitted pencil skirt, a thrift store find from a few weeks back. Pairing it with a blouse that was snug enough to show off her curves, but not too revealing, she could see the look coming together. Then, she slid on her most expensive heels. Sure, they weren’t Donna-level shoes, but they still looked good. They would do the trick. She wasn’t trying to be Donna, just to play the part.

Then, just in case, she unbuttoned one more button on the blouse. If he happened to be with her, let him see what she had.

She smiled at her reflection. Bianca knew what worked. Men weren't complicated. They liked tits, they like ass, and both of those qualities Bianca held in abundance. And she wasn’t shy about showing off her assets, either. If rent was due and she was a bit short, Bianca wasn't ashamed to show a bit more skin to up her tips. That was just for money. This was for something that mattered.

With that thought in mind, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. The bus ride over would give her time to think of her approach, of what she'd say, of how she'd avoid conflict. As best as she could figure, Donna was either truly Joey's mother, or she was truly Bianca's competition. Or, just maybe, both. That last one was a long shot, unlikely to happen, but she put the thought on a backburner. It was silly really. Whose mother actually ended up getting the hots for their son? It was crazy.

But one thing for certain, Bianca had seen how Donna had looked at Joey. That woman wanted him. And with both women vying for Joey's attention, she'd have to work her way into Joey's world through Donna, or they would have to come up with some sort of compromise. Bianca hoped it was the latter. She had experienced enough toxicity with her friends over men in the past. Maybe Donna and Bianca could find a way to work together. After all, there was plenty of Joey to go around.

And so the bus rumbled on while the brown-eyed beauty thought through possible conversational scenarios. This had to go right. It might be her last chance to get in front of him. Joey was about to learn that Bianca Batista wasn’t the type of woman who waited around for things to happen.

She made them happen.