Just another day in the office. Just another 24 hours. One day closer to her 29th birthday and what has Carol got? Stagnant, stationery, solitude…a divorce under her belt and nothing to show for it.
Yet, that's not true, she thinks as she looks out of her Atlanta office window. She's free. A few years ago, she was a worn down, miserable housewife come slave, and now she's a successful business woman standing on her own two feet.
It's not what she imagined. By now she thought she'd have a family, kids. Maybe the little girl she'd always dreamed about. But she's looked into the mouth of domestic hell and she's come out the other side. That's not nothing!
Carol is interrupted in her thoughts by the door being unceremoniously kicked open. In walks Merle Dixon, her colleague and friend, and he's carrying their lunch. A tradition they started and both look forward to; 'eat what you want Friday!'
"Grub's up, sugar tits," Merle needlessly announces, dumping his offerings on her desk. Carol just rolls her eyes. Long ago, she stopped being offended by his rough and ready terms of affection.
They both dig in, having discussed and settled on the idea of Indian food earlier in the week. Carol has her favourite butter chicken and she moans and groans as she devours it.
"Weekend plans?" Merle manages to say round mouthfuls of sinfully good spicy food.
Carol just shakes her head; unwilling to admit that it'll be another quiet one. Like all the others. She's too nervous to put herself out there. She wants to - she really, really wants to, but it's a little bit 'one bitten, twice shy' and a little bit 'I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.'
"Come out with us tonight" he instructs, inviting her to his regular Friday catch up with his friends. Carol just makes a face, a typical nonverbal meh! "Listen princess, you ain't too good for us. A little something, something could happen," Merle prods.
Carol shakes her head, wiping her lips with the napkin, while Merle continues to gorge on his food.
"Carol, you need to get laid," he says when he finally comes up for air.
Merle hits the nail on the head, again, but Carol's experiences in the past haven't been dazzling; off putting maybe. She's no fool. She knows everybody's body is different. She doesn't expect fireworks and she hasn't had any. She'd describe most of her experiences as perfunctory at best. Never a fire, never desire. She could blame Ed; her cold, overbearing and neglectful ex, but really there has never been anyone special.
What little joy she'd felt had been snuffed out by Ed, his harsh words and harder touch. She thought stories of 'out of body' pleasure and bliss were a myth or beyond her. But as her 29th birthday approaches, she thinks she ought to give it one more good try. What a sad and undemanding pre-thirty bucket list she has. Good sex. That's it. And she'd settle for satisfying or just a little fulfilment, that's all she desires.
"You know what guys are really into Carol?" He asks.
"I swear to god Merle Dixon, if you say something like 'girls who touch themselves' or something else vulgar, I'll hit you with the rest of this naan bread."
"Dirty fucking bitch. I ain't gonna say any shit like that. I was just gonna say a girl with a bit of confidence, someone who takes what they want" Merle responds, silencing Carol. But for laughs he whispers, "scares me how much the broad knows me."
She and Merle joke around a lot and only rarely does he forgo the sass for something meaningful and sincere. He'd done a lot of that when she was going through the divorce. It always gave her pause. A reminder of just how much her friend cares for her.
"Tyreese," Merle prompts, knowing he couldn't go even a fraction as long as her without getting his dick wet. She's going through the dry spell to end all dry spells.
"Mmmmm no," Carol answers after a moment of thought.
"He's my best man. I'd trust him with my life," Merle retorts.
"He's too much. Too big, Merle. I'm just looking to get my feet wet."
"Ok, fuck. Tom from accounting," Merle says, naming the most petite guy he can think of in the whole business.
Carol just snorts out a laugh and throws her dirty napkin at the big idiot.
"My brother, Daryl" Merle says, his voice quieter than before, that sincerity creeping back.
"Oh?"
"My brother can be a bit of an asshole."
"What? Your brother, Merle? No, I can't believe it. Did you inherit all of the Dixon family charm then?"
"You are such a fucking smart ass, lady" Merle replies, chuckling at her. When the atmosphere settles again, Merle continues, "he might be what you need."
"And what's that big guy?" Carol asks, wondering how well he's sussed her out.
"Someone who's not an asshole. Someone you can trust" Merle says quickly, taking her breath away.
"You said he was an asshole" Carol reminds him; amused, intrigued.
"He's the good type."
"There's a good type?"
"Sure there is. There's the type Daryl is and then there's the type that'll leave you with a busted lip. He ain't that type."
"Are you serious? I know I need to put myself out there but..." Carol says, attempting to school her emotions. Merle's already stretching himself and she doesn't want to push him further.
"My brother, he's not great with people. Life ain't been too easy on him. It wouldn't be like no date. But if you're good with awkward, fidgety fucks then you're gonna love his ass. And he's a Dixon - you hit pay dirt lady!" Merle mentally congratulates himself for thinking of this. They'd be perfect. Sweet little mouse Carol and his own damn brother. Why didn't he think of this before?
Carol laughs. She trusts Merle. It could work. They both continue to talk about it. He's mentioned his brother before, but never in detail. She learns about Daryl and she and Merle formulate a plan. Something like, how to fuck Daryl Dixon in 3 easy steps. She can't believe she's agreeing to this, but everything she hears about him she likes. First it's the affection in Merle's voice, his obvious love for his brother, and then it's more. And she wants it.
Carol joins Merle for drinks on Friday. But neither Tyresse nor Tom from accounting get a look in. Over the course of a few hours and fueled by a few tequilas, Carol learns more about Daryl Dixon. He's loyal, hardworking and just the tonic to bold, brash and brutal Ed.
A few hours later they enter Daryl's house using Merle's spare key.
"You're sure this is a good idea?" Carol asks him, liquid courage got her this far but faced with reality, she's quick to sober up.
"Yeah," Merle responds, sounding less certain than Carol's ever heard him.
"We can just leave; no harm, no foul." Carol prompts, urged on by the uncertainty she hears in his voice.
"Nah. This is it. You're staying. Remember what I said. My brother can be a bit of an asshole. Try to ride it out and you'll like him just fine," Merle says as he quickly retreats, pulling the door behind him.
"Fuck," Carol says into the silence of the unfamiliar room.
She feels like she's intruding, then she realises she is. It's not exactly breaking and entering because nothing has been broken, but... Oh hell, she thinks as she climbs the stairs.
Thank you for reading. SMUT warning for next chapter.
I've posted this elsewhere but I first started publishing on FF so wanted to bring it home ;-)