Love to Hate You Novel – The man I had a one-night-stand with turns out to be the new Creative Director? When I got there, he turned and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Thestorm had hit, and it was a hurricane. He was dressed head to toe in black the uniform of a creative director but there was nothing else typical about him. And then he looked directly at me and I nearly fainted. I inhaled sharply, so sharply that I started choking on a fleck of saliva. His eyes lingered momentarily and then they left me. He showed absolutely no recognition on his face and in that moment-after I had recovered from my embarrassing coughing fit. I was a little pissed-“I want you so badly, Sera. I need you” and now he didn’t recognize me? What an assshole!
Don’t ask me how it happened. I could blame it on theVodka. Maybe I could blame it on JJ and Bruce. Maybe it was the strobing lights of the nightclub and the repetitive doof doof of the bass that triggered some kind of chemical reaction in my brain, causing me to go temporarily insane. Maybe it was my outfit (NOTE: Never let a gay drag queen dress you for an evening out). I was wearing a sequined blue thing that could barely be described as a dress, and the famous “Marilyn wig” which they’d brought out especially for me, God only knows why? I looked like a crazed person with bad taste in wigs. Maybe that’s why it happened? But what are the chances? To find a straight guy at a gay nightclub? Possibly the only one. And to find such a ridiculously hot one, who somehow knew my favorite drink and bought it for me all night long.
Who kissedme like that on the dance floor and now had me pinned underneath him in the backseat of his car. I never did this. Someone else was halfnaked and sweating and moaning and grabbing at his tattooed shoulders. Someone else was lickingVodka cranberry cocktails and sweat off his chest and having the best sexof her life-Deliciously dirtysex, I might add-with possibly the hottest man that had ever walked the planet. How did this happen again? He’d made me feel like the sexiest woman alive, and that, coupled with the fact that I didn’t know his name and would never see him again-all that strong alcohol helped, too-saw all my inhibitions fly right out the back window of his car. I did and said things I didn’t even know I was capable of.
I told him how I wanted it. And he willingly gave it to me. As well as several variations on the requested activity. And when it was all over, he lay on top of me gasping for air and sweating beautiful glistening drops (Even his sweat wassexy.). It was easily the hottest experience of my entire life. But then he did something very odd, something that tipped me over the edge. He lifted his head and met my eyes with such intensity that everything around me went silent and blurry. He was looking at me like he knew me. Really, really knew me. My mouth opened and an almost inaudible whisper came out, “Do I know you?” He smiled at me. A naughty smile. “Not yet.” And then hekissed me. No one hadkissed me like that before. It was the kind ofkiss you could get lost in if you weren’t careful.
The kind ofkiss shared by long lost lovers. But when some nosey drag queens knocked on the car window and made loud oohing noises and one of them mimed a comic spanking gesture, I nearly died. I flung the door open and ran, leaving my SexGod shirtless and with his trousers still around his ankles. While I, the girl that never does stuff like this (I reiterate), had to make an embarrassing run of shame across the now crowded parking lot. I could feel every single dramatically drawn, raised eyebrow watching me as I went. Before I could get far, I was stopped by a distinctly masculine wolf whistle. SexGod clearly had NO inhibitions.
He was now leaning against his car, zipping up his jeans and doing it completely shirtless-with a very appreciative audience I might add. He lit acigarette, inhaled and let the smoke curl out of his mouth. He was like an advert for cool, in that I don’t’ give a flying fuckwho cares kind of way. An advert for everything deplorable and lascivious, but downright filthy-sexyin a man. Who was he? I really had to go! I climbed into my car and pulled out of the lot, allowing myself one last glance in his direction. The cigarettehung out of his mouth seductively; his wet hair clung to his face; he was leaning across the bonnet in such a way that he looked like a model from an X-rated Calvin Klein billboard. As I sped away, he blew me a kissand shouted after me. “I’m in love!” The Next Day… “Have you heard?” she asked. I half turned to her but she cut me off quickly before I could manage to respond. “They hired a new Creative Director.
Apparently he’s a rock star. Blake something I think—” At the sound of that name, one of the junior copywriters who happened to be walking past quickly corrected her, “Isn’t it Blade? I heard his name was Blade?” Next thing I knew, an equally excitable art director joined the conversation, “Blaze? Isn’t it Blaze? Or Slash?” She was practically squealing. I looked from one glowing face to the other. Their eyes were lit up like firecrackers and their cheeks were flushed a bright shade of pink. “I heard they offered him a huge financial package to come here,” Ness said with a wild, wide-eyed look. The other creatives simultaneously nodded in agreement, declaring that he was probably worth every cent, maybe even more. Yes, he was definitely worth more, they concluded.
Then they walked off—no doubt to spread more legends of this creative man-God. In an ad agency, creativity is king. It’s the currency and the Holy Grail. So when one of these so-called creative geniuses comes around, it whips everyone into a star-struck frenzy. He might as well have been an actual rock star because everyone here at JTS was whipped. I was too hung over to be vaguely interested, but the rest of the office buzzed like the static on a television. “I heard he doesn’t sleep…ever, ” the strange pale vampire girl from layout said dreamily. “He’s going to bring in a lot of new accounts…not to mention awards,” two senior managers said as they passed. “And apparently he nailed all the chicks at his last job,” two guys from IT said before a macho fist bump.
I sighed and started to roll my eyes, but they hurt too much. I opened my email and there it was: “Meeting in the Canteen to introduce new CD” (Creative Director). The meeting was in ten minutes. I lay my head on my desk and waited for the headache pills to kick in. I must have drifted off to sleep though because I thought I heard someone say, “I heard he was raised by wolves.” I opened my eyes and looked around, but no one was there. I glanced at my watch— Crapp! I jumped up and ran to the canteen as fast as I could without tripping and landing on my face. When I finally got there, everyone was already inside and standing around a black-clad figure—that must be him.
I could only see the back of him from where I was. I glanced around looking for Ness and finally saw her standing in the front row with the other starry-eyed women. I carefully pushed my way forward trying not to be seen, but when I got there, he turned and suddenly I couldn’t breathe— Thestorm had hit, and it was a hurricane. He was dressed head to toe in black—the uniform of a creative director—but there was nothing else typical about him. He wore dark sunglasses inside, and had acigarette tucked behind one of his ears. His hair was strangely, unevenly cut and was slicked back and wet looking. He had a beard, obviously—it’s practically a prerequisite in this world—but it wasn’t one of those massive hipster beards that made ordinary men look like lumberjacks.
It was short and well-groomed and so damsexy. He would have been a sight under normal circumstances, but considering that only a few hours before he’d had me bent over his car seat, he was really, really quite a sight. He wore a full suit, pants, jacket, waistcoat, tie—the works. He even had a black piece of fabric sticking out of his jacket pocket—Who dresses like that? Does he think he’s Don Draper from Mad Men? He was almost gentlemanly-almost. But the tattoo that popped out from under his cuff and ran the length of the back of his hand and the one peering out from his collar that went up his neck and stopped behind his ear were anything but gentlemanly.
He loomed like a dark, mysterious creature. Fortunately, he still hadn’t seen me. “Oh my God he’s soooo weird,” Vampire girl said, rubbing her neck. Did she want him to bite her?-“Weird” you must understand is a compliment in this world. And then he looked directly at me and I nearly fainted. I inhaled sharply, so sharply that I started choking on a fleck of saliva. As Ness patted me on the back, his eyes lingered momentarily and then they left me.
He showed absolutely no recognition on his face and in that moment-after I had recovered from my embarrassing coughing fit-I was overcome by two very strong emotions. One was relief. Sleeping with your new boss is not the kind of thing that looks good on anyone’s resume, not to mention the awkwardness it creates around the office. And two… I was pissed-“I want you so badly, Sera. I need you” … and now he didn’t recognize me? What anasshole! With his ridiculous indoor sunglasses, his oh-so-cool cigaretteand his stupid black borderline-tuxedo. I hated him.