The Slut Survival Guide

eleven.

Secret #12: Sometimes, even a slut deserves to be taken out to dinner and treated like she matters. If he offers, take it.

I shook my head. "No, that shirt makes my lovehandles look huge!" I said, I tossing the red tank across the room.

Valerie rolled her eyes exasperatedly and put her hands on her hips as she looked through my closet. "Everything I've suggested has been awful. You choose something!"

"Sorry," I said. "I just want to look really good for him."

Tonight, Oliver was taking me out to dinner. He had called me last night and told me he wanted to see me again. I had, obviously, happily obliged and was now trying to find the perfect outfit. It was proving to be more difficult than I had originally anticipated.

I pulled out a gray off-the-shoulder shirt. "This one," I said. I pulled it on over my head and smoothed it out. "Yeah?" I asked Valerie.

She nodded. "Definitely."

I pulled on a pair of jean shorts and took out my black gladiators. "Is this too simple?" I asked her.

"No," she replied. "It's perfect. Where is he taking you anyway?"

"Bodega," I said, combing my hair. Bodega was a very fancy and expensive Spanish restaurant. When he offered to take me there, I could barely believe it.

Valerie's mouth dropped open. "Shit, girl! And he's paying?"

I shrugged. "I mean, I guess. I'll offer, though. He shouldn't have to pay for everything." I set the comb down on my nightstand and picked up a tube of mascara.

She smiled. "Good for you, girl. I'm glad you have someone."

I had decided to tell Valerie about Oliver. Although I didn't want to tell Cathy yet, I figured Valerie, the serial dater, would understand. And I was right; she did, and she was happy for me.

I couldn't stop the smile that was climbing onto my face. "Yeah. I'm glad too."

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Oliver grinned at me from across the table. "You look really pretty tonight," he said.

"Thanks," I mumbled quickly, taking a sip of my water to hide my blush.

"Dinner was really nice. I'm glad we did this," he said, as the waiter brought over the check.

I nodded. "Me too. How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, shoving some bills into the leather checkbook.

"No, Oliver. Come on, I'll split the check," I insisted.

"No," he insisted. "I'll take it. It's a date. I want to pay for you."

I smiled. "So it is a date," I said.

"Well, yeah. I don't take just anyone out to dinner." He grinned and handed the waiter the checkbook.

"So what do we do now? Just go home?" I asked, slightly sad that the night was over.

"Well, you could always come over," he said. "If you want to, I mean."

My eyes widened. "Yeah, sure!"

"Great," he said. We stood up and he led me out the restaurant to his car and we took off for Oliver's house.

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His room was painted red and had posters everywhere. There was a keyboard in one corner and a drum set in the other. He had two shelves filled with books: AP review, SAT review, fiction, nonfiction, dictionaries, encyclopedias, yearbooks. I sat down on his bed and took it all in.

"Like my room?" He asked, walking in behind me and shutting the door.

"I do," I said. "You have a lot of books."

He nodded. "I like to read."

"That's a rarity," I said.

He walked over and sat down next to me. "It is."

We sat in silence for a while and then I looked over at him. His dark brown eyes crinkled as he smiled at me. I smiled back.

Slowly, Oliver leaned in. Right before he kissed me, he whispered, "You're beautiful, you know that?"

I paused for a second and then replied, "I love you."

I don't know what made me do it. My jaw dropped and I pulled away, blushing furiously. "Fuck, I am so sorry. I don't know....I don't, I mean, I just met you. I don't even know you," I stammered, feeling a knot form in the pit of my stomach.

He stopped me mid-sentence by placing a hand under my chin and tilting my face up. "Calm down," he said. He kissed me and leaned me back onto his bed. As he climbed on top of me, he gently brushed my hair out of my face. "I love you, too."

I felt the color drain from my face as my heart stopped. "What?" I demanded. "Seriously?"

He nodded down at me, and we started kissing. Each kiss was like a hunger that was being satisfied, but I also got hungrier and kissed harder. My hands lingered around his hips and slowly pulled up his shirt. He helped me with that and then went to work on mine. His hands found his way to my bra clasp, and he fumbled with it.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Haven't really done this a lot."

That surprised me, considering how attractive he was, but it comforted me because there were less expectations. "Don't worry about it," I whispered breathily and did it for him.

Soon enough, his pants were off and he was working on mine. "Wait," he said. "Are you okay with this?"

I paused. Was I? I thought back to all those times I could have had sex but didn't. All those times that guys wanted to get in my pants but all I could think of was Oliver. I looked up at Oliver, whose eyes were clouded with lust. He had a dopey grin on his face, and there was a bead of sweat by his eyebrow.

"I'm ready."