It must have been a lot easier to cheat on someone before social media.
Maybe my boyfriend Sid would have gotten away with it if he hadn’t left a digital trail of evidence.
Instead, somebody took a phone shot of him and a woman kissing outside a coffee shop. It got posted, and someone I knew recognized him and tagged me with the urgent question, “Isn’t this your boyfriend?”
It was. I didn’t know the woman with whom Sid was lip-locking, but I sure was pissed off about it! I studied the pic, trying to decide what to do. Obviously, I needed to break up with Sid. But he needed to understand how badly he’d hurt my feelings.
Suddenly, all that hurt faded. I didn’t recognize the woman, but I did know the coffee shop. She was wearing an apron. She must work there!
A devious plan formed in my head that involved seducing this woman. But my plot hit a snag almost immediately. I had never once done anything sexual with another woman, not even so much as to share a passionate kiss. I was a lezzie virgin. Would my desire to get even with Sid let me overcome my inhibitions?
I decided I should put the question to the test.
I picked out a tight black skirt, a sexy top and spiky high heels. Then I realized this was Sid’s favorite kind of outfit. Disgusted, I changed into jeans and a tee, and then drove to the coffee place.
Nervousness made my hands tremble a little on the steering wheel as I parked. Or was it excitement? I gave myself a smirk in the rearview mirror as I checked my hair. I had been trying to imagine how I might go about coming on to this woman, but that led to thoughts of actually going to bed with her. Would I be bold enough to have sex with her?
The possibility stirred something in me. I was a little flushed as I went into the coffee shop. The woman was working the counter, a blonde girl with a nice shape and friendly eyes. She smiled at me as I approached. I still had the image of her kissing Sid in my mind. I mentally replaced him with myself and imagined kissing this woman as passionately as he’d been doing in that photo.
“What can I get you?” I realized it was the second time she’d asked the question.
There was nobody waiting behind me, so I started chatting with her as she prepared my order. Her name was Suze. She was as friendly as she looked, with a musical sort of voice. I had meant to try some aggressive flirting, but I found myself responding to her naturally instead. She really was quite pretty. Suddenly, I heard myself tell her so.
She blushed but didn’t look away. I thought I saw interest flash in her eyes, so I asked, “When do you get off?”
“In an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting out front.”
“Uh,” she said, “I’m kinda seeing this guy…”