casual sex isnât fun for you, then donât do it. Itâs not a requirementâitâs an option. Buy a good vibrator and take a break from being the fun girl whoâs down for the superhot guy. Because if you think those men canât tell that youâre flattered by the attention, youâre fooling yourself. If
you
believe theyâre too hot for you, then you can bet your ass that they think so, too. And if youâre smiling your way through a booty call and pretending itâs a great way to spend a weeknight, those men are not going to try to talk you out of it.â
She took a deep breath. Almost done.
âSo take a break. Reevaluate your choices. Figure out what you really want. And if what you want is to get serious with someone, then you wait for a person whoâs serious about you. You wait for the guy who calls you when he doesnât want sex.â
A few of the women frowned and Veronica smiled. âOkay, wait for the guy whoâs dying to do you and
also
wants to spend time with you not having sex. Is that better?â All of the women cheered. âAll right. Thank you very much, everyone. This has been a blast. Iâll see you in the paper!â
She waved blindly at the clapping crowd, then turned, meaning to grab her drink and retreat to the office to hyperventilate, but the glass was empty. Had she downed that whole thing in five minutes? No wonder she felt dizzy. Before she could retreat, someone rushed up behind her and squeezed her waist.
âYou were amazing!â said Lauren.
âWas I? I think Iâm going to faint.â
âEverybody loved it! Youâre a natural.â
âIâm not,â she murmured, starting to see spots. She managed to smile toward a female voice that called out a quick thank-you, but then Veronica pointed her body toward the hallway and started walking. âI just need a minute,â she said.
She felt Lauren pat her back, and then Veronica was alone in the cool hallway and the noise of the crowd receded. She made it to the office, shut the door and collapsed into a chair.
âOh, my God,â she whispered. âOh, my God, I did it. Itâs over.â Her heart began to calm. The spots in her vision faded.
The door opened on a loud whoosh, and Veronica smiled gratefully, ready to fall into Laurenâs arms now that some of the shock had passed, but it wasnât Lauren. It was Gerald King, the managing editor of the paper.
Oh, God. What if heâd finally seen through her stupid charade? What if heâd hated it?
âIâm not going to beat around the bush, Veronica.â
Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.
âWe were hoping to promote the paper and help pump up the localsâ specials advertising with tonight.â
âI know,â she breathed. Unfortunately, the spots were completely gone now and she could see Geraldâs stern face perfectly. He was only forty-five, but there was something in his posture that always reminded Veronica of her dad. Some arrogant, implacable way he held himself. She wished she hadnât cornered herself in the office. There was no escape from his disappointment now.
âBut this is going to work out differently, I think.â
She was already nodding, conceding her awfulness.
Gerald grunted, but she couldnât decipher the noise. âAnyway, Thursday nights are fairly slow this time of year, and the place was almost full tonight. The owner is damn happy. I think we can make this a great summer tie-in for the paper. Hell, maybe we can even take it to a bigger location during ski season, though Iâd much rather increase permanent circulation than just get a temporary bump in advertising rates. But hell, why not go for it all?â
âI donât understand,â she said.
âEvery Thursday. Localsâ Advice Night with Dear Veronica. One hundred bucks a pop for you, paid as a bonus. Are you in?â
Are you in?
He