Bedroom Potential Read online

  BEDROOM POTENTIAL

  A Story of Erotica

  ALSO BY BEBE WILDE

  Girlfriend of a Surfer: A Novel

  Sleeping Around: A Novel

  Hot Sex, Cool Erotica: Stories of Pleasure and Fantasy

  Adults Only: Seven Erotica Shorts

  Adults Only: Seven Erotica Shorts - Volume 2

  Adults Only: Seven Erotica Shorts - Volume 3

  Sex Story: An Erotica Short

  Sex Story - Part 2: An Erotica Short

  Sex Story - Part 3: An Erotica Short

  Love Hurts: A BDSM Erotica Short

  A Hot Fireman: An Erotica Short

  A Little Bit Submissive

  A Little Bit Rough

  A Little Bit Controlling

  The A Little Bit Trilogy Bundle

  You, Me and Him: A Ménage Erotica Short

  Cold Hard Cash: A Story of Erotica

  Sexual Tension: A BDSM Erotica Story

  The Weaker Sex: BDSM Erotica

  Merci: A Story of Erotica, Sex and Romance

  At the End of the Day: An Office Sex Erotica Short

  On the Same Page: An Office Sex Erotica Story

  BEDROOM POTENTIAL

  A Story of Erotica

  Bebe Wilde

  Abernathy and Monroe

  Bedroom Potential: A Story of Erotica. Copyright © 2015 by Bebe Wilde.

  Published by Abernathy and Monroe.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher. For information, email [email protected]

  eBook ISBN–13: 978-1-938107-63-4

  eBook ISBN–10: 1-938107-63-2

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  For the good lovers.

  Bedroom Potential

  It wasn’t that I went to bed with a ten and woke up with a two or whatever. No. I went to bed with a ten and I woke up with a ten. It’s just that he… How shall I put this? While he may have been a hot looking guy, he just wasn’t very good in bed. There. I said it.

  Oh, it was a shame, really. He was so tall, so good looking. Everything a woman would want in a hot one night stand. He was a little on the shy side, which made him even more attractive. We’d met in the typical way. I was having drinks in a bar after work with some coworkers. It was a Friday night and we were ready to let loose. Then I saw him. He was across the room, drinking a beer. We locked eyes, then he looked away quickly. I was hooked. I wanted him to come over and say hello.

  He did just that. When he approached me, he gave me this sheepish grin, almost shy, as if he was afraid I’d reject him. But there was no way in hell was I doing that. He was too cute. Those blue eyes… Those muscles… Um! Those heavenly muscles, broad shoulders. That handsome face…his hair a good dirty blonde. That smile! Perfect teeth. If I could have just gotten over his looks, I would have avoided this big mistake. And that’s what he was. He was a big mistake. No other way to put it, either.

  It goes without saying that I invited him back to my place. But even though we had hit it off at the bar, things didn’t start off well. His kisses were wet and sloppy. He used a lot of tongue and not in a good way. I thought it might have been because he’d had too much to drink, so I overlooked it. But I was wrong. It wasn’t that.

  Even so, I went through with it, thinking it could only get better, mainly because he had a superb penis. I don’t say that about a lot of penises but I would say that about his. Oh, it was good, right at eight long inches. He had some girth, too. Which was nice. Well, which could have been nice, if he knew how to use it, I mean.

  However, even with that dick, the sex was absolutely horrible. It was just… Well, it became pointless. At first I thought he was reserved and that wild man who fucked good was just waiting in the wings to come out and give it to me good. But that didn’t happen. It was just… Awful. He was all hands and lips and then the actual sex was just him kind of grunting and moving around a little. I thought that, at the very least, I would get to ride that big dick of his and get a little something out of it, but before I could even get started, it was over. Just like that. All in all, it was just him getting done and then just falling on top of me with a groan. A groan. Not a moan of pleasure but a groan like he was glad it was over.

  I was glad it was over.

  I was so embarrassed. For him, I mean. Not for me. I tried. I tried my best to get it on with him, to make it work, to make it happen. I was horny. I hadn’t been laid in months, not since I’d broken up with my long distance boyfriend who had become a real pain in my ass. God, I was glad he was gone. Of course, I was still reeling a little from the heartbreak because, well, I had loved him. A lot. But I tried not to think of him often, lest I be tempted to follow him and make a complete and total fool out of myself. Instead, I just pushed his handsome face out of my mind and went on with my life. I thought this guy would be a good distraction, especially after I had come in contact with his penis. But it hadn’t worked out like that, to say the least.

  This guy. This one. This good looking guy was here, in bed with me. He was so damned good looking. What a waste. It was worse than finding out the good looking guy in your office was gay. The one you had a huge crush on, the one you saw giving you a life with a white picket fence. The one who made you laugh. Yeah, this was worse. Way worse. At least you didn’t have to have sex with that one to find out the reality. At least you could skip that part.

  There was no skipping anything here, but it was what it was. And it was just some bad sex. I’d had bad sex before, mostly drunken sex. Drunken sex wasn’t great, but what could you do? At worst, you just do your best then give up ten minutes in and pass out. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get it on in the morning. Then you get something out of it. But not this situation. There would be no morning after sex. Nope, nope and nada.

  But morning had come and, for some reason, he wasn’t leaving. He was still in my bed, sleeping soundly. Damn, he looked good. Perfect! I had a moment where I wanted to forget about what had taken place the previous night and take a picture of him and send it to my friends, just to say, hey, look what I got! They’d be so proud of me for popping the proverbial post-breakup cherry. “Go, girl!” they’d holler and clink their wine glasses to mine. “Your ex was a supreme asshole! Now you’re back in the saddle! Giddy up!”

  But then I thought better of it. I’d have to eventually end up telling them how bad he was and then they’d want to try him on for themselves, mainly because he was such a hunk. They’d probably think they could make him do better or something and when they inevitably couldn’t, they’d tell me how bad he was with them and then I’d have to relive it. And I didn’t want to do that, even though it could have been a good bonding experience. I wasn’t about to do that. He was getting up, getting dressed and getting the fuck out of my life.

  Goodbye. To. You.

  What was his name? Brent? Was that it? I think it was. Brent. Oh, yeah, cause he asked me what my name was and I’d said, “Bunny,” and he’d laughed and said, “What is that short for?” and I’d said, “Oh, nothing. It was my great-grandmother’s nickname and my mother just wanted to name me something to get it over with. I have three other sisters, all older. I guess she was over the whole name thing by then.” He’d laughed and said, “We have two ‘B’ names. Isn’t that funny?”

  It was funny, kinda. Not really, though. But that’s what had made him so cute. And he’d been so pleasant, like a breath of fresh air. I hadn�
��t thought he would have been because guys who look like that can tend to be supreme assholes. But he’d been nice. He’d told me he thought I was “really pretty” and commented on my “perfect” nose. He’d actually said that, that I had a perfect nose. Guy usually noticed my cute boobs or rockin’ body or long brown hair, but he noticed my nose. Weird. I should have known something was up right then and there and avoided all of this in the first place. Who cares about a nose? Maybe he was just playing it safe. Or maybe he was a weirdo.

  I looked over at him. God! Would he ever wake up? Get up, get up, get up! It was Saturday and I really had a lot of shit to do. I had laundry, of course, and I had grocery shopping and then I needed to clean my apartment. Later, I was meeting some friends for an early dinner and then we were going to see a movie. All of this would take my mind off of him and off of my ex, who, after I had slept with this guy, was actually beginning to look pretty good in comparison.

  But he wasn’t moving. Man, he was deep sleeper. I stared at him, all covered up in my white sheets and looking… He looked good. If it hadn’t been for the previous night’s pitiful excuse for a sexual encounter, I’d jump his bones again. Instead, I cleared my throat loudly and waited. Nothing. What to do? What to do? My phone beeped, indicating I had an email. Oh! I turned up the volume and it beeped again, this time more loudly. He was slightly roused. His eyes begin to come open. Finally! I could move on with my life.

  He yawned and sat up, looking really relaxed and comfortable. I almost smiled at him. Almost. He noticed me and smiled. I gave him a little smile back, just a little one, nothing too much to give him any sort of encouragement. He grinned. He was happy to see me.

  “Hey,” he said and ducked his head a little.

  Shy. So, so shy, even after that. Maybe he was ashamed of himself. Maybe he knew how bad he was.

  “That was wild last night, wasn’t it?” he asked, not meeting my eyes.

  Was he serious? Oh, my God, he was! He didn’t know how bad he’d been! He, like most other men, had no idea, no self-awareness. He had had a good time and all I had gotten was a bad memory. And he really needed to leave.

  “Uh huh,” I muttered. “Listen, I have a lot to do today and…” I stopped talking and pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.

  “Oh, I get it,” he said, nodding. “Sorry. Sorry.”

  He jumped out of bed and came towards me, like he wanted something. Something sexual. Like a repeat of last night. Oh, no. Oh, hell no. I glanced down at his boxer shorts and his morning wood, then back at him. Oh, no, this wasn’t going to happen again. I side-stepped him and made it to the door. “I put you a new toothbrush out in case you want to freshen up before you leave. Oh, and some washcloths.”

  “Thanks, honey,” he said and smiled. “That was really sweet of you.”

  I didn’t smile back. Why the hell was he calling me honey? I wasn’t his honey and I wasn’t ever going to be. I didn’t say that, though. I just gave him a tight smile and left the room.

  I got my list of things I needed to do in order and waited on him. And waited. He was still in the bathroom. What was taking him so long? Then I realized he was taking a shower! Ugh! I always got stuck with these damned men! Always! They either wanted to move right in or they moved across the globe, like my ex. I thought about him. I was glad he moved. We weren’t right for one another. We had tried to do the whole long distance thing, but it hadn’t worked out. I did feel a stab of pain in my heart over him still. And it had been months and months since he’d left. I just wanted to move on. Brent was supposed to help with that. Damn it.

  I glanced at the clock. Okay. I did not have time for this. Even though I wouldn’t normally do anything like this, I went to the bathroom door, knocked once and said loudly, “Hey, I have a lot to get done. Just lock up when you leave, okay?” I paused and thought about leaving him alone in my apartment. Ah, well. He seemed relatively harmless and I just wanted to get away from him. “So, see ya!”

  “What about breakfast?” he yelled over the shower.

  “Uh, no thanks,” I said, unable to think of another way to put it. “Have a good one!”

  I hurried away before he could reply. When I got home later, he was gone.

  Phew! Thank God for that. But he’d left something. A lot of some things. I’d never in my life had this happen before.

  I’d lived in the city for almost ten years. I’d met and dated a few men in my time and it wasn’t unusual for some of them to exhibit some sort of eccentric behavior. One guy liked to walk his dog—at midnight. Every single night. If we were getting busy, he’d stop and run home. After the second time, I told him to stay there. Another guy liked to eat custard. Lots of custard. Off my body. It was disgusting and ruined my sheets. Another guy could not use a glass in a restaurant. If they didn’t have the beer he liked, in a can or in a bottle, he wouldn’t order anything to drink. I never even had sex with that one. Just two dates and goodbye weirdo.

  And then there was my ex, who I didn’t want to even think about.

  Yeah, I’d had some odd ones, but I had a feeling none of them were going to measure up to Brent. I wasn’t wrong in this assumption either. When I got home after running my errands, my living room was filled with flowers. Quite literally. Like, what was I going to do with all these flowers? Donate them to a wedding? I mean, fuck!

  They were pretty, though. Lots and lots of pretty flowers. Okay, this was kind of cool, if not a little weird. I mean, what girl doesn’t love flowers? But so many of them! And so soon after hooking up? And after such bad sex? I was about to call a friend and bitch about it, then I wondered how he’d gotten them to my apartment. He must have ordered them when he was still there. I thought about that. It made me a little uneasy.

  Just then, my phone rang. I rummaged around my purse and pulled it out, then noticed it was Brent. Of course. Didn’t he know he wasn’t supposed to call me so soon? Even if he wanted to date, which wasn’t going to happen ever, he should have known better. That’s basic dating 101. I wasn’t about to pick up, but lo and behold, he left a voicemail. Fine. I’d see what he had to say.

  “Hey, honey, it’s me. Just wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner tonight. We could actually have a real date, you know, that might be fun. Anyway, I have reservations at La Sol for eight. Let me know. Bye! Oh! I hope I didn’t overdo it on the flowers but I couldn’t pick just one. Let me know about La Sol.”

  My mouth dropped. La Sol? He had reservations for La Sol? No one could get into that restaurant but celebrities and really, really rich people. I wasn’t normally impressed by anything like that, but all my friends had been lamenting about not being able to get in the place. And he had reservations for tonight, which meant he had to make them today, which, for most people, was an impossibility.

  Who the hell was this guy? Brent… What was his last name? I thought for a second and remembered that he had said his name was Brent Worthington. I googled him and then saw what was going on. Oh, he was that Brent Worthington. Wow. He’d inherited what had once been a top publishing company and one that was about to go bust. He’d turned it around and now it was on par with all the other big houses. Then he’d sold it for lots and lots and lots of money. Now he was working on doing mission trips to war-torn countries. On top of everything else, he was really, really smart. Then, on top of that, he was a great guy with a big heart. And on top of that, he was rich as fuck.

  Why did he have to suck in bed?!

  Damn it. The man was perfect. He just sucked in bed. That’s all! He was sucky-suck-suck in bed!

  But what if I gave him another chance? What if I just tried it again? He could be a great catch. I thought about last night. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Nope. I still couldn’t do it. No matter what a good catch he was, I liked sex too much to take another chance on him. Too much bad sex could completely turn me off it. I wasn’t going to give that up for a fancy meal or a living room full of fancy flowers. Nope. Sorry. It was o
ver. Damn it! He had so much potential, too! But not an ounce of bedroom potential. Too bad.

  Besides, I was ready to find a good man and get a life. I was tired of being single. I was ready to move on to the next step and I just couldn’t waste my time on a guy who wasn’t right for me. I looked around my living room, still stuffed with beautiful flowers. What a waste.

  Just then, my phone rang. It was my friend, Tamera. I picked up with a, “Hey, girl.”

  “What up?” she said. “We still on for tonight?”

  I thought about La Sol. I thought about Brent. Why not run it by her? She might be able to guide me in the right direction. “Uh, yeah, I think so,” I said. “It’s just…”

  “What?” she asked.

  “I got asked out on a date,” I replied. “And, ummm… Well, he wants to take me to La Sol.”

  “La Sol?! Are you freakin’ kidding me? Who is this guy? A movie star?”

  “No,” I said and laughed a little.

  “Then how the hell did he get into La Sol?”

  “He’s Brent Worthington,” I said.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” she said.

  I gave her the information I had on him, leaving out the fact that we’d actually had sex. “And then,” I continued. “He asked me out.”

  She seemed to consider something then said, “And what is your problem with going out with him? Is he a troll or something? I’d go out with him! Give him my number!”

  I laughed. “No, he’s not a troll, it’s just…”

  “You’re not attracted to him,” she finished.

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “He stinks.”

  “No,” I said and laughed again. “He doesn’t stink.”

  “He has a gambling problem,” she said.

  “Not that I am aware of,” I said.

  “He’s a bad kisser.”