SEX for FUN

Sex for Fun

Charlotte Symonds

Cover Photograph By: Charlotte Symonds

Graphic Design By: Manuel Beltran & S. Carman Knight

Ebook Formatting By: Jesse Gordon

Copyright At Last 2015

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

My father was the first man in my life and set the bar extremely high for any man to follow. He was a true gentleman and extraordinarily old-fashioned. He put my mother on a pedestal and loved her with immense devotion. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, all she needed was to ask. My mother was the first feminist I knew, although she would have never considered herself one. She believed in a woman’s right to love and live the way that she chose. She worked hard at her job and then came home and took care of her home and her children. She was secure enough in herself to allow the man whom she loved to open her doors and help her on with her coat, as they worked side by side together making a happy home, family and life. My parents showed me that there is love that lasts until death do us part. And so, to my mother and father, Mildred R. and George J. Symonds, who reside now together in heaven, I dedicate this love story to you.

Acknowledgements

My genuine appreciation to Margaret Huck, Eileen Konowal, Dr. Jeanne Loysen, Andrea Rasmussen, Lisa Marie Sterling and Jessica Symonds for their support and encouragement during the writing of this love story and their collaborative efforts in the editing process.

Publisher’s Note

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, business establishments, locales, or actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by means of electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. Except for brief quotations used in connection with reviews, written specifically for inclusion in a magazine, a newspaper or newsletter.

The support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Special Note

Author is available to be a guest speaker at book clubs, bookstores and libraries. For more information contact the author at chatwiththeauthor@gmail.com

Dear Reader,

I hope that reading this novel gives you as much pleasure as it did for me in writing it. Sit back, relax and set your mind free to enjoy the love story that you are about to experience.

If after reading it, you would like to share your thoughts on the book, I would love to hear from you. You can contact me at chatwiththeauthor@gmail.com

Please consider visiting my website at charlottesymonds.com

Other novels of mine can be found on amazon.com/CharlotteSymonds/...

Happy reading,

Charlotte Symonds

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Special Note

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

About the Author

Chapter One

What was a girl of simple needs doing living in a brownstone in the Upper East Side of Manhattan? Olivia didn’t have to ever ask herself that question, because she knew the answer. From the first moment she stepped off the Amtrak train at Penn Station from Iowa, twelve years ago, to head off to New York University, such excitement filled her entire being that Olivia knew she could never live anywhere else. She felt immediately in sync with the rhythm of the city, while passing more people before leaving Penn Station, than she would have in a week in her hometown in Iowa, where the population was just under eight hundred.

Olivia opened her eyes this morning and was welcomed by the sun peeking brightly through the partially exposed windows, from the openings on the sides of her not so perfectly fitted white cotton shades, on her two floor-to-ceiling windows. It was such a lovely way to be greeted each day. Olivia rose and her tousled, golden hair shimmered from the morning light as she rolled up her shades to expose an even more vivid view of her bustling street.

Olivia’s daily ritual began in transforming her studio apartment from a bedroom into a living room. It was a simple task. All that was needed was to remove the button-tufted top of the black rectangular leather ottoman that sat in front of her bed, which doubled as a coffee table or extra seating when needed. Olivia would then take out the six midnight blue linen throw-pillows that sat three high next to each other, which were housed there and replaced them with her two bed pillows. After straightening her East Indian patterned bedspread with its elephants and indigo designs on her twin mattress, then arranging the toss-pillows against the wall, her bed now was camouflaged into a couch. The couch’s covering, with its rich shades of blue, contrasted nicely with the partially exposed whitewashed distressed brick wall it leaned against.

Years ago when Olivia had finished nursing school, she lived with a friend in Brooklyn while apartment hunting. While attending school at NYU, Olivia learned early on that living in Manhattan was unrealistic, for it was financially out of reach on a nurse’s salary. That was until one day, while sitting at a table in the hospital break-room, when Olivia noticed a bright yellow index card attached by a red push pin on the bulletin board. Even from the distance where she sat, the words affordable rent in bold black lettering grabbed her attention. Removing the index card from the board, Olivia turned it around and read a brief note which listed four fragmented facts: studio apartment for rent, Upper East Side, ridiculously low rent and a phone number. Olivia had immediately called the phone number making an appointment to see the apartment.

Arriving at the address, which Olivia had scribbled down on the yellow index card, she needed to reread the number again to make certain this house was the correct one. Directly in front of her was an elegant white limestone building with three stories and a slanted slate roof. At the top of the stoop was an ebony wooden entry door which above it was an intricately, magnificently crafted, stained glass arch window picturing a single yellow rose. Realizing she must have transposed the numbers while writing them down, she turned to leave, when a tall, middle-aged gentleman in a gray suit approached her. The gentleman introduced himself as a representative of the owner of the building and escorted Olivia to the vacant studio apartment on the first floor.

Olivia could not believe her eyes. The spacious studio apartment had everything she needed and more. Not only were there two floor-to-ceiling windows facing the street which allowed for the sun to drench the apartment in light, spectacular in their own right, but they were beautifully framed in ornately carved wood molding with cherub like figures designed into the top of each corner. There was a fireplace, although not in working condition, a large closet, a kitchen with cabinets attached on both of its walls and air conditioning. The gentleman informed Olivia that the building contained five other studio apartments with nurses from Manhattan Memorial Hospital residing in them as well. Olivia further learned that no long term leases were issued; the apartment was available by a month to month lease only. After hearing the monthly cost, Olivia felt like she was in a dream, an impossibly unrealistic one in which she would awaken at any given moment and find herself again touring a tiny one room apartment in Brooklyn, with a shared bathroom and kitchen, with a monthly price tag of $1,600 a month.

Occasionally Olivia would wonder why her apartment was so inexpensive, but not wanting her dream to end, never looked into it. So month after month, year after year, Olivia would mail her check to the Montgomery Corporation on Madison Avenue and each month she would receive in return a receipt of payment. If anything went wrong in her apartment, all that was needed was to use the contact number she had been given and the problem was always solved immediately. Olivia often did wonder who the owner of the building was, why he only rented to nurses and why at such ridiculously low rates, but then she would merely dismiss the notion and just thank God she had come upon that yellow index card.

When signing the lease, one stipulation was given. The provision allowed for no leeway, all walls were to remain white. When Olivia had first moved in, she decided to put a fresh coat of paint on all of the walls, with the exception of the only brick wall in the apartment. She liked the distressed look of the original white paint over the bricks with its worn-off chipped paint effect, allowing for some of the deep red bricks to still show through. Olivia added a trick to the cans of white paint that she had learned from her mother. She stirred in just a hint of light blue paint to the can of white paint before applying. The unnoticeable trace of the blue hue would change the appearance and the white stark flat color would be softened.

Having only one room and to maintain continuity, Olivia kept blue, her favorite color, as the main color scheme. Blue had been her favorite color for as long as she could remember. One of her earliest childhood memories was during summer months, lying on the grass outside her home with her grandfather, making shapes from the formations of the cumulus clouds that passed by. They would sit for what seemed like hours amused with the array of shapes they could concoct. Olivia’s grandfather was a carpenter and always wore blue jeans to work. And when he wasn’t working, he seemed to wear them as well. Whenever Olivia would close her eyes and think of her grandfather, those blue denims would always be what he was wearing. Whether they were the soft blue ones he’d wear during the weekends or the stiff, dark, sturdy ones that he wore to work. Olivia couldn’t be certain if it was the fond memories of the hours spent looking at the blue sky or the fond memories of her grandfather in his blue denim jeans, but what she was certain of, was that blue was her favorite color. It was then and it still was now.

Olivia grabbed a quick glass of orange juice before dressing to go jogging. She brushed her teeth, washed her face and then combed her long sandy blonde hair into a high pony tail. Olivia had put aside her usual well-worn workout clothes today and opted to wear two Christmas gifts, which she had set aside months ago to use for when she resumed jogging in the park. She opened her closet door and grabbed the never worn, black, capri leggings which hugged her hips and accentuated her toned calves, accompanied with the soft gray, breathable tank top which had its sale tags removed and had been folded neatly in her dresser drawer, waiting for springtime to arrive. Olivia was looking forward to wearing these selections, of the new line of athletic wear from Fabletics Active Clothes, since she had first heard about them. They were the softest and most comfortable exercise clothes she had ever owned. That helped her to ignore the fact that they were gifts from her ex and kept them after discarding him. Olivia unplugged her phone from its charger that sat on the small counter against the wall in her kitchen. She inserted her phone and keys into her armband, then slipped it onto her arm.

Olivia glanced at her treadmill which sat directly to the right of her couch. It was the only space in her apartment that would allow for its size and to not interfere with the pathway to either the kitchen or the bathroom. Her treadmill served her well during the winter months however; inadvertently monotony would set in from running too long in one place, requiring her to read to keep boredom at bay. She’d save her stacks of nursing journals and heavy reading, required for her profession, to read prior to her going to bed. Olivia had read an article in the New York Times regarding learning and sleep. The article merely confirmed what she had always believed, that during sleep your brain had time to marinate and analyze new information and it would be more readily retained. So, bedtime was set aside for reading work material and daytime reading was set aside for allowing her fantasies to run wild. And run wild they did.

Wuthering Heights sat open across the handrail of her treadmill. With its aged tan pages and paperback cover wrinkled from wear, it was obvious that Olivia had owned this selection since high school. Heathcliff would have to wait until a cold rainy day to be read again. Reading romantic novels, especially those set in the Victorian Era, or the reading of amorous poetry, seemed to quell the need for romance which was lacking in Olivia’s life. That of course added with her running. Olivia had a wildly vivid imagination and jogging in Central Park fed into it perfectly.

With the park’s many stoned arches and bridges, all built in the Victorian style, Olivia could conjure up the most passionate, romantic stories in her own mind and play them out right in front of her as she ran. Each time the Glen Span Arch in Central Park with its rough geometric stone shapes came into her site, she’d picture Mr. Darcy, a character from the Pride and Prejudice, under it awaiting her arrival in the grotto which it concealed. The lustful scenarios she’d play out in her mind were far more risqué than the quiet escorted walks amidst the trees that Jane Austen wrote about. Olivia would have Mr. Darcy alone in her mind to do with as she pleased and by the time she’d return to her apartment she’d have worked up quite a sweat and the waiting shower cooled down her body as well as her mind.

Springtime had finally arrived in Manhattan, bringing with it a rebirth of life. Olivia entered Central Park and evidence of that fact surrounded her. Its bare trees were now transformed with their branches adorned like strands of pearls with thousands of emerging buds. The various shades of beads of colors emerging from flowers and bushes were reminiscent of Impressionistic paintings. The crocus and tulip bulbs with their leaves breaking free from the newly warmed earth were scattered among the new blanket of thin blades of soft grass, all a sign of a fresh beginning. With the visual promise of a new season, Olivia hoped that her life as well would be transformed.

Deep within her heart, Olivia was a hopeful romantic. Although, she was quite aware that she appeared blasé about the whole subject of love to almost everyone she knew. The simple truth, which Olivia concealed well, was that she had never fallen in love. A few months prior, when Olivia showed up for work at Manhattan Memorial Hospital sporting a flawless one-caret, princess-cut diamond engagement ring, her female coworkers gushed with questions about the upcoming nuptials. Olivia impassively stated that plans had not yet been arranged and nonchalantly changed the topic.

That day outside the break-room, prior to getting a much needed cup of caffeine, Olivia overheard two Emergency Room nurses gossiping about her. Isn’t that always the way. The girls who are perfect, easily get a man. Just look at her. She’s tall, lean, has beautiful long, sandy blonde hair, is gorgeous and has a body like a Victoria’s Secret model. It’s no wonder she’s engaged. She’s probably had her choice of guys since high school. The other nurse agreed adding, They will probably have beautiful children as well. How could she not with a fiancée who has a body like Hugh Jackman.

It was as if Olivia had sustained a blow to her gut. Although these nurses were her colleagues and not friends, Olivia had believed that she had earned their respect from working side-by-side with them for several years. Prior to overhearing that conversation, Olivia was certain she had a good working relationship with all the nurses who she worked with in the ER department and would have not expected her coworkers to remark in such a callous manner about her. These nurses had no idea of Olivia’s history with men. They would have had no way of knowing that in high school Olivia dated very little. Although she was regularly asked out by boys, after learning that they either wanted only sex or to be seen with her as eye-candy, she declined most invitations. The nurses also were not privy to the fact of how hard Olivia worked in college and despite this fact, there were those who thought she had slept her way to being valedictorian of her class.

Olivia, needing to face those who spoke so inconsiderately of her, entered the hospital break-room, and upon entering, the nurses’ conversation obviously turned to a different topic. The discussion turned to the new X-Man movie, which would be released in a few months starring Hugh Jackman. Olivia seized the opportunity and jumped into the conversation stating, I was getting a pedicure the other day and on TV was an interview by Oprah with Hugh Jackman. You know what I like best about Jackman? His deep love for his wife. Apparently, there are those reporters who concern themselves with her being more than ten years his senior and for not having the body of a model. Jackman loves her just the way she is. And have you ever seen her? The woman is absolutely gorgeous and as an extra bonus she is funny, witty and possesses a great personality. What man wouldn’t want her on his arm? No woman is perfect. We all have our flaws, don’t we ladies? We all just learn well how to conceal them. What we want is a man to see us as if we were perfect. And it’s rare when that happens. Hugh Jackman’s wife is a lucky woman and he’s a lucky man.

The two ER nurses sitting at the table looked up at Olivia hoping she hadn’t overheard their previous conversation, yet feeling embarrassed for fear that she had. Without another word uttered, Olivia took her straight black coffee in its covered tall Styrofoam cup back to the ER to continue her fourteen hour shift.

Walking back to the ER, Olivia was glad that she had remembered a conversation which she had overheard the week before among a few nurses at the reception desk. Olivia herself had no time in her busy work schedule for a pedicure, for overtime had been the norm in her life for the last few months. Olivia had simply heard a few nurses talking about how good-looking Hugh Jackman looked on his TV interview with Oprah. All the ideas Olivia had spoken on the topic to the catty nurses were her own feelings on the Jackmans’ marriage. Even though Olivia wore an engagement ring that day, she couldn’t help but wonder where was her Hugh Jackman? Although Olivia had a man equally as handsome as Hugh Jackman and possessed a similar physique, she longed for a man who had Jackman’s heart to fall head-over-heels in love with.

It had been three weeks since Olivia walked in on her fiancé, Logan, in the on-call room at Manhattan Memorial. She remembered wishing she had done something more dramatic than to simply throw her engagement ring at him before slamming the door behind her, after viewing the erotic display presented before her of her fiancé and the ER triage nurse on duty. But admittedly, after hearing the next day’s gossip being whispered around the ER explaining why Dr. Logan Caldwell was wearing an eye patch, a smile erupted on Olivia’s face that seemed to sustain her throughout her fourteen hour shift. Apparently, the simple gesture of throwing her ring at him was more dramatic than she had suspected. Seems Logan’s cornea was scratched by the diamond ring which quite accidentally had made direct contact with his left eye.

Olivia had reluctantly agreed to marry Logan three months ago when he proposed, for he was after all, people would remark, the perfect catch. He was a doctor, one who seemed to be in the profession due to his sense of genuine caring and not merely for the money. The two met and started dating during Logan’s residency at Manhattan Memorial. To say they dated was a stretch of the definition. For after six months of Logan’s persistent, relentless pursuing of her, Olivia agreed to meet him one night in the physician’s on-call room at the hospital. They basically used each other for the release of sexual frustration and stress from enduring shifts lasting way over the limit of alertness. After about six months of a no-strings attached sexual involvement, which Olivia preferred, Logan wanted to take their relationship to the next level. It was then they started dating and after three years, Logan proposed.

Olivia’s thirtieth birthday was approaching when Logan popped the question. Her guard was down for her biological clock was ticking loudly. Logan came from an upstanding family with both his father and grandfather being respected cardiologists. With Olivia’s chosen profession as an ER nurse, she was quite aware of the excessive amount of hours required at the hospital and equally aware that as she was in a relationship that left her unable to look for another suitable bachelor. She had heard so many stories about dreadful relationships from her coworkers, plus considering some of her own experiences with men at bars rudely hitting on her and not to mention patients as well, that Olivia believed most men were inherently jerks. With this in mind, Olivia halfheartedly agreed to accept Logan’s proposal.

Olivia had never felt the emotion of truly falling in love, but had always secretly hoped that one day she’d meet a man who would awaken that emotion from within her heart. But, she was willing to settle because she was turning thirty and wanted a home, a family and a man who loved her. Olivia admitted, if only to herself, that she was jealous when she’d hear stories of long nights filled with hot, passionate love-making from nurses boldly boasting in the break-room, while grabbing coffee to sustain