Caveman: A Short Story with Many Happy Endings

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By A.C. Rose

It began at a party in New York City.

The Caveman spotted me from across the room and made his way over. We were at the Manhattan birthday party of a mutual friend, yet he approached as if we were in a romantic scene from a foreign-made film. He introduced himself and I extended my hand. Instead of shaking, he reached for it, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed it. He lingered there for a moment and looked at me with gorgeous blue eyes. His beautifully shaped mouth sent a rush of energy into my entire body.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said with a slight Eastern Bloc accent. “And I’ve been thinking you are a woman I am meant to meet.”

“Seriously?” I said, snapping back from my momentary daze from the surprise hand kiss. “That’s your pitch? I’m supposed to believe that?”

I eyed his handsome face and fit body, noted he was clothed in an expensive suit, and wondered if he were a player or a gigolo looking for a somewhat older woman like me to be his sugar mama.

“Why would I lie, Baby?” he asked, apparently surprised by my comment. “With me, what you see is what you get. I go after what I want but I don’t play games.”

“Everyone plays games.”

“Not me. And I don’t disappoint women.”

“Is that so? You’ve heard that from every one of the women you’ve ever known?”

“Yes. I have never had a bad relationship or a bad experience with a woman.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough to know how to make a woman feel like a Goddess.”

“And young enough to be cocky and think you know it all.”

“I can tell you’ve been hurt. Don’t be bitter, Baby.”

“That’s a pretty big assumption to make, especially with someone you barely know.”

“But I’m right. You’ve been hurt and disappointed, and you are clearly very protective of yourself. And you have probably shut down, emotionally and sexually, because of bad romances. You need someone to love you back to happiness.”

“Okay, we’re done here.”

Arrogant. That was the first thought that crossed my mind. And really cute, hot, and built like an athlete or a fitness model were the thoughts that tumbled into my brain next. Truth is, he was perfect looking. And he was spot on. The accuracy of his statement made me squirm a little. I had been burned by too many thoughtless men and, over time, I had built a protective wall. I was stunned by his boldness and oddly excited by it too. But he was being a presumptuous ass. I should walk away from this stranger, and his annoying forthright assessment of my personal life, yet I seemed rooted in the same spot, wondering what would happen next.

“I know that past experiences would make you hesitant to be with a real man,” was his follow up. “I don’t want you to be hesitant with me.”

“I just met you two seconds ago,” I said. “I should slap you for being so rude and forward.”

“And I should just pick you up, put you over my shoulder, and carry you out of here, and into bed,” he said. “It will be the end result of this conversation, anyway. Why fight it?”

“What … are you a freaking caveman?” I snidely asked, with exasperation in my voice.

“Yes.” he said, looking deeply into my eyes as if trying to throw me off with his dominating glare. “And this caveman will not disappoint you.”

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Copyright 2015, A.C. Rose. All rights reserved.

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