Read Online Him Her Them Boxed Set by Elizabeth Lynx - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Lynx
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is it worth my time?
Let me explain the last question. There are some guys who will properly pursue a woman. They are the perfect gentleman opening doors, buying flowers, complimenting her on her hair or dress. But, it's just an afterthought to them. The flowers are always the same, red roses or worse, a grocery store bouquet that was on sale. The compliments are not unique to the woman, like "Hey nice dress babe!" instead of "Wow, the green of your dress really brings out your eyes." There isn't much effort or thought put forth in the pursuit, just the bare minimum that will get a woman to think the guy is a catch.
I know, I sound like a bit of a snob and asking for a lot, but you know what, I think I'm worth it. In my opinion if more women think they were worth it too, then men will just take this as the norm instead of thinking a woman is asking too much. They would care more about what a woman thinks, listen attentively to pick up hints here and there to woo her.
I think I will leave Pierce a hint and see if he's the man I think he is because I want to see him again. It's a risk as he might not pick up on it, but if he does it will be so worth it. I'm getting giddy just thinking about it. Now, to find my dress, undies, some paper and a pen.
I scoot out of bed as not to disturb Pierce and walk into the bathroom to grab my purse. Sneaking out of the bedroom I make my way to the foyer bathroom and put on my dress, cuff and then heels I find in the living room. Grabbing my panties I put them in my purse and check all the drawers under the sink, but no paper or pen of any kind.
Suddenly I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is matted and tangled and I have a long red wrinkle from my temple across my cheek to the edge of my chin. Nice! This will be a wonderful walk of shame home. I am pretty sure anyone who looks at my appearance will know exactly what happened to me last night.
Oh well, moving on to the task at hand: paper and pen. I move out to the foyer and notice a table with a drawer at the entrance. It's dark wood with a tan marble top. Opening the drawer I see some envelopes, keys, and jackpot! A small pad of white paper and several pens.
Now what to write, hmm....This is harder than I realized. I have no idea what hint I shall give him. He knows I am an Assistant Professor at Johns Hopkins, but doesn't know my department or my last name. If I just write that info down it will be too easy. I need to think of something different or at least will hint toward what department I work in.
After a few minutes I realize I have to pee, so I head back into the bathroom to relieve myself. As I stand up to flush I notice some shelves over the toilet and silver frames of pictures of people. Who keeps family photos in the bathroom over the toilet? If they were on the counter, that would seem alright, but the toilet? It's odd, but not weird. I notice some teenage boys huddling around each other in what appears to be a graduation photo. The middle one looks a lot like Pierce. Perhaps the other guys are his friends from the club.
Something about how Pierce looks as a teenager has me doing déjà vu. I wouldn't have known him back then. I shrug and move on to the next photo of Pierce much older, perhaps mid or late twenties standing next to a short older woman. I assume it must be his mother, but...
I...I know her.
I bring the picture closer to my face to study the resemblance between the two. Yup, definitely related, but how is she...this is Mrs. Carver my neighbor who lives two doors down from me.
She's a sweet woman and loves to garden. I have the opposite of a green thumb, so when I plant something it's dead within two weeks. There have been so many times I have come home to find my dead plants replaced and my garden spruced up. Though Mrs. Carver never admits it, I know it's her.
Carver. Pierce's last name has to be Carver. I race back to the table by the entrance and open the drawer to pull out some of the
Let me explain the last question. There are some guys who will properly pursue a woman. They are the perfect gentleman opening doors, buying flowers, complimenting her on her hair or dress. But, it's just an afterthought to them. The flowers are always the same, red roses or worse, a grocery store bouquet that was on sale. The compliments are not unique to the woman, like "Hey nice dress babe!" instead of "Wow, the green of your dress really brings out your eyes." There isn't much effort or thought put forth in the pursuit, just the bare minimum that will get a woman to think the guy is a catch.
I know, I sound like a bit of a snob and asking for a lot, but you know what, I think I'm worth it. In my opinion if more women think they were worth it too, then men will just take this as the norm instead of thinking a woman is asking too much. They would care more about what a woman thinks, listen attentively to pick up hints here and there to woo her.
I think I will leave Pierce a hint and see if he's the man I think he is because I want to see him again. It's a risk as he might not pick up on it, but if he does it will be so worth it. I'm getting giddy just thinking about it. Now, to find my dress, undies, some paper and a pen.
I scoot out of bed as not to disturb Pierce and walk into the bathroom to grab my purse. Sneaking out of the bedroom I make my way to the foyer bathroom and put on my dress, cuff and then heels I find in the living room. Grabbing my panties I put them in my purse and check all the drawers under the sink, but no paper or pen of any kind.
Suddenly I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is matted and tangled and I have a long red wrinkle from my temple across my cheek to the edge of my chin. Nice! This will be a wonderful walk of shame home. I am pretty sure anyone who looks at my appearance will know exactly what happened to me last night.
Oh well, moving on to the task at hand: paper and pen. I move out to the foyer and notice a table with a drawer at the entrance. It's dark wood with a tan marble top. Opening the drawer I see some envelopes, keys, and jackpot! A small pad of white paper and several pens.
Now what to write, hmm....This is harder than I realized. I have no idea what hint I shall give him. He knows I am an Assistant Professor at Johns Hopkins, but doesn't know my department or my last name. If I just write that info down it will be too easy. I need to think of something different or at least will hint toward what department I work in.
After a few minutes I realize I have to pee, so I head back into the bathroom to relieve myself. As I stand up to flush I notice some shelves over the toilet and silver frames of pictures of people. Who keeps family photos in the bathroom over the toilet? If they were on the counter, that would seem alright, but the toilet? It's odd, but not weird. I notice some teenage boys huddling around each other in what appears to be a graduation photo. The middle one looks a lot like Pierce. Perhaps the other guys are his friends from the club.
Something about how Pierce looks as a teenager has me doing déjà vu. I wouldn't have known him back then. I shrug and move on to the next photo of Pierce much older, perhaps mid or late twenties standing next to a short older woman. I assume it must be his mother, but...
I...I know her.
I bring the picture closer to my face to study the resemblance between the two. Yup, definitely related, but how is she...this is Mrs. Carver my neighbor who lives two doors down from me.
She's a sweet woman and loves to garden. I have the opposite of a green thumb, so when I plant something it's dead within two weeks. There have been so many times I have come home to find my dead plants replaced and my garden spruced up. Though Mrs. Carver never admits it, I know it's her.
Carver. Pierce's last name has to be Carver. I race back to the table by the entrance and open the drawer to pull out some of the
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