Free Helpless by H. Ward

says he has a special treat in store for me tonight.  My body flushes warm.  I am suddenly tingling as I am imagining his big body pressing down on me.  He is finally ready to have sex and I had pushed it out of my mind, so now it comes crashing back and I fight back a blush.  I don’t say anything. 
                  Wait.  Did I say slow gear?  Still no sex with Jason.  I can’t believe that the special treat is a night ride on the London Eye.  Sure, it is stunning, but I am starting to think either there is something wrong with Jason—like he can’t get it up—or there is something wrong with me .  Especially since I have been told my whole life about all my little faults, I tend to think something is so wrong with me that this great guy doesn’t want to get into a real boyfriend/girlfriend relationship with me. 
                  I am sure he likes me.  There is just no way to talk and laugh and spend almost two weeks with someone and fake so much time and talk.  But there must be something that is warning him off getting serious with me.  Something that tells him taking it to the next level and having sex with me will be trouble for him.
                  I want to ask him, but I know about so many of my own faults that I don’t want to hear something new.  Not tonight.  Not from Jason.  I sigh and walk with Jason along the sidewalks, under trees strung with lights.  Walking toward the biggest Farris Wheel ever, a ride that is supposed to be pure joy, but I feel heavy now.  I am losing my joy.
                  I almost feel like a throw-away little girl.  I push the feelings of being an unloved little child from my mind.  I force myself to look at the other people standing in line with us.  I am one of the tallest females.  I am the only one with auburn hair, bordering on flaming red, but not quite that red.  Face it; I am flat out the prettiest girl here. 
                  That thought makes me feel a little better.
                  When we reach the front of the line, Jason takes my arm and leads me into a private capsule.  In this capsule the bench is covered in a thick green blanket, one of softest I have ever felt.  On the bench is a bouquet of green roses.  I whirl around to stare at him.
                  My big hunk is running a hand through his dark hair.  His almost too big nose is a little rosy; I see it is because he is trying to hold back a flush.  He motions me inside.  I lift the flowers; their smell is strong and very pleasant in the capsule.  He sits down beside me.
                  “I just knew you were going to wear green tonight.”  He gives me a shy smile.  “So I wanted your flowers to match your dress.” 
                  I do the girly thing, and sniff my flowers.
                  “You like them?”
                  I am all choked up.  I can barely say, “Oh yes.”
                  “Good.  I know I could have bought you an emerald pendant, or something fancy like that.  But I figure you get gifts like that all the time don’t you?”
                  I nod.  I really do.  I get so many things given to me that some of them I just open to see what it is and leave it in the lobby of the building.  I think George doles them out as he sees fit.  I don’t care what he does; I just like the high of knowing some guy has paid a butt-load to send me a gift.  It is a symbol that I am worthy and I am successful.
                  Green roses?  Now this is a new one, and that means that Jason had to put time and thought into getting them.
                  “How did you get dark green roses?  You can’t just go out and buy them, can you?”
                  “Nope.  I spoke with a florist a few days ago.  They had to order in special white roses, young ones.  Then they