Free Wall Street Blues (Swashbuckling Romance) by Nancy Clinton Page B

didn’t want our discussion to end soon. So, I decided to say something else. “I like guys with hairy chests—I always feel that—in my imagination, you know—caressing a guy’s hair may produce good sensation for sex,” I told her.
        The squint on her face revealed that she didn’t find my statement funny or interesting, and I wasn’t shocked when she fired a salvo at me: “if that’s the case, why don’t you secretly date your CEO? I noticed he his chest is hairy,”
         I knew she meant that as a joke. Everyone who had worked in Mr. Russell’s office knew that he had hair on his chest as he, against the convention of a seasoned banker, refused to wear suit and tie; he often came to work in flannel shirts, which he always opened three buttons down.
       “You know I can never date Mr. Russell. Apart from being my uncle’s best friend, his wife, Angela, treats me like a family member. In fact, she relates to me like her own niece. Don’t wanna break such a kind heart. I’ll never forgive myself if such a thing happens,” I said.
       Hillary put her chin in her hand while listening to me. But the flickers in her eyes showed that she wasn’t sold on what I was saying. If I had read her mind correctly, she believed anything could happen, given the chance.
    “You sounded quite romantic at times, girlfriend; so, what prevented you from rocking life with any of the guys out there?” I asked her.
    “I’ve been a conservative Christian from childhood, and as such none of my sisters lost their virginity before marriage. It’s like a culture in our family,” she explained.
        “I see,” I acknowledged. “As for me religion played no part in my sexual abstinence. I can say I was rather asocial,” I told her.
      Exactly a week later, Hillary intimated me that The Sisters of the Virgin New Yorkers’s Facebook page had received twenty “likes” and six members had already joined the SVNY’s website’s mailing list.
       “Really?” I was visibly shocked.
       “The most surprising aspect of this issue is that there are more guys on the mailing list than ladies: in short, four guys and two ladies,” she explained.
        “How did you respond to them,” I asked, anxiously.
      “I just sent them a “Thank You” message for subscribing to the mailing list, and I promised to be in touch. Signed: SVNY’s Site Administrator,” Hillary said.
       I was speechless at her cleverness; it didn’t occur to me that she was adept at things like that until she confessed she had actually started out as a Computer Sciences major student until her elder sister, a financial planner and accountant in a bank on Wall Street advised her to divert into Banking and Finance course.
      “So, what’s going to be the next step?” I asked. I was somehow interested in meeting those other virgin New Yorkers and listened attentively to their personal stories.
    “Two of the fans requested for a get-together, but I’m still thinking about the feasibility of that,” Hillary answered.
       When we finally agreed that we should arrange for a get-together party in a hotel room, three guys and a lady had shown significant interest in the event. They had even made financial contributions in advance in order to make this idea come into reality.
        “I’m quite nervous about this, Hillary! It seems like it‘s going to be a weird group dating. And I’m afraid I have no experience of such,” I confessed.
        My w ords appeared funny to Hillary but she managed to clear the air about the event: “I’ve already sounded warnings to all participants that we aren’t organizing a group date, just a feel-good meeting among people who may share similar interests and want to bond together later. Life is too short to be lived in isolation in this age when good networkers are kings,” Hillary explained.
      In order not to appear childish to my friend from hell, I refused to go into further