Two hours later, I was convinced I had found the perfect candidate. From her serpent-like eyes to the heavily painted face and the cheap blonde dye job, she was striking, though not conventionally beautiful. She was the type of woman you might fantasize about fleetingly in college, feel guilty afterward, and then move on from.
Nicholas had dated striking before—I knew that. Once, I had received a frantic call in the dead of night when he was in Vegas, on the brink of eloping with a porn star.
But striking wasn’t his usual preference.
Nicholas had a taste for finer things. Nicholas liked beauty.
Together, we drove into the city, scheduled to rendezvous with Nicholas at his preferred venue. On the way, she texted him, suggesting a change in plans.
“He likes spontaneity,” I had noted. “J
