He was always the one to leave first, not the woman. Now the roles had been reversed. He didn't like this feeling at all. Where was she? Where did she go?
He needed to find her. And find her fast, because he wasn't sure if he could sleep with another woman again, what with the memory his mysterious Lorddess had imparted on him. Ahh, damn shit. Why did she have to leave so fast? Just when his morning wood was up too.
* * *
"Who are you after, Mr. Bloembergen?" the Korean waiter asked Logan, who came stalking into their club at exactly seven a.m. in the morning, sporting a hairstyle that resembled a sparrow's nest, with his dusty-corn tresses spiking in all directions.
"One of your waiters, a kiwi boy to be precise, about yea high." Logan got straight to the point, indicating the height with his hand up to his shoulder. The so-called waiter he was after was James. "Did you see him? Last night." "I don't think we have anyone that short working here."
The waiter shook his head, replying blandly, then felt a little afraid at the sudden flare that appeared in Logan's eyes. Okay, that was the wrong answer. "Look, I just need to find him so he can help me look for a certain woman, the one who—" Logan stopped short.
Should he tell this waiter about his circumstances last night? Surely he didn't need to elaborate all that much, but he was at his wit's end here. He needed to find his mysterious woman fast.
The morning wood he sported earlier was only appeased thanks to her faceless memory and a long shower. How pathetic could he get? It was that silver. But try as he might, he just couldn't picture her in his Lorddess's place.
"Oh, are you talking about that silver from last night?" the waiter asked, suddenly remembering the woman who had asked him to hand the note to Mr. Bloembergen, the man standing right in front of him now. She had come in again bright and early at exactly 6:20 a.m.
"Yes, yes, that was the one." Logan nodded. "Oh, she came in here this morning and gave me a note for you." The waiter went to the back office, muttering, "I'll just grab it for you.
She looked pissed by the way. I tell you, Mr.…" Logan ignored the waiter's comment and just tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to extract the note from his office. Grabbing the paper and thanking the waiter, Logan rushed outside and dialed her number.
"Hey," Logan said soothingly, using his best flirty tone. "Who's this?" came an angry voice. Logan frowned. That didn't sound like his mysterious woman from last night. "Your mysterious guy…" Logan sapped all his energy on perfecting his voice so he could seduce her and hoped she would run straight to a taxi with her lingerie on, straight into his arms so they could commence round three. "From last night. We had the best sex. Remember?" he added. "Listen, I was thinking we could—" "You bastard!"
Logan was struck speechless when his mysterious Goddess interrupted his speech. "I
waited for you last night," she shouted through the phone, causing his eardrum to ring. "All night. All by myself. You didn't even turn up.
You playboy. Don't ever call this number again." Then the line went dead. Logan stared at the phone blankly, confused about the turn of events. He scratched his head. If his mysterious woman was waiting for him last night and he didn't turn up, then— Just who the hell did I sleep with last night?
* * *
Ulysses had wanted her. Despite his being a bit drunk last night, she was certain he had confessed as much. But just to succumb to his advances because he'd confessed and called her his mysterious Goddess? She just couldn't believe she could be this lewd and naïve.