Read Messalina: Devourer of Men for Free Online Page B

is.
                I look at Ana eating her ice cream cone. She’s like a sister to me. Not long after that New Year’s celebration, I introduced her to an acquaintance of mine who turned out to be her soul mate and future husband, Frankie Benedetto. They were married by the end of the year.
                From that moment on, Ana’s mission has been to hook me up. She wants to help me strike it big even if it means going through fool’s gold before hitting the mother lode. Unfortunately, the men on her roll call were her choices for me—and they were the ones with potential. Those pairings always ended before sex came into it.
                That’s why I didn’t accept Jared’s offer after the movie. I don’t think I can control myself in a private, sexual situation. In public, I’m forced to keep myself in check. What I’m doing is actually a public service, because the next man in my clutches is at risk of being worn down to a shadow.
    Protect the body and exploit the mind, that’s my mantra.
                Ooh, that man . . . I replay our meeting over and over and keep his drawing in my purse inside a protective plastic sleeve. Thinking about him makes me hot and I put my glass to my forehead to cool down. Ana sees me and frowns.
    “Are you all right?”
    I nod. I haven’t told her of my weekly excursions. They are mine and mine alone. But I have to say something. I pull the sketch from my purse, show it to her, and tell her the sanitized version of what happened. Her reaction hardly helps.
                “Evadne Cavell, how can you sit for being so horny?”
                Her sudden increase in volume has other patrons looking our way and I glance around.
                “Lower your voice, for Christ’s sake.”
                “And you’re just telling me this now?” She clicks her tongue in annoyance. “What’s he like?”
                I blink as if trying to remember. “He’s charming. Has to be to use that approach. I did my share of resisting.”
                “You give him the civil-servant look?”
                I nod. She throws her hands up in despair.
                “Little Miss Evasive rides again. And he stuck it out? I’m impressed.”
                “But—”
                “What?”
                “As we talked, I got this feeling, a warmth.”
                “You were blushing.”
                “As if he could notice.”
                “Nah, you’re high yellow enough for anyone to tell.” She licks her fingers and finishes her ice cream cone. “Eva, come off it. You take yourself too seriously. Brush the cobwebs from between your legs and join the living.”
                Oh, if she only knew. But I play along. “Why so mean, Ana? Retaining water?”
                “Like a dam.”
                I push my half-eaten chocolate cheesecake in her direction. As she digs in, I tell her how I excused myself from the rest of the evening. She almost chokes.
                “That cat’s been dead for fifteen years! How could you drop a bullshit tale like that?”
    Once again, her volume puts us center stage. She gives a frustrated sigh. “Has he called?”
                “No.”
                She’s annoyed and I can’t blame her. I’m feeling sorry for myself for passing a chance to get screwed—in a good way.
                “Have you called him?”
                “No.” I turn away, trying to play casual. But she’s shaking her head because I hear her earrings jingle. I look back at her. “Don’t worry, Ana. I’m not sweating it.”
                She arches an eyebrow and scans my face. “Aren’t you?”
     
    * * * *
     
                When I get home my phone is ringing. I’m exhausted