At 32, Playboy Morrison Took a Massive Fall — and It Was at the Hands of a Girl Ten Years His Junior, Who Had Absolutely Zero Experience with Love.
And, to make it worse, she was the younger sister of his best mate.
Her name? Lilian.
It all began one day when Lilian called him out of the blue, asking him to teach her how to date. Her reasoning? Because he was handsome and, more importantly, experienced — the perfect teacher for a complete novice like her.
He had no idea what had sparked this sudden urge in her to pursue romance. But he was definitely intrigued. After all, when it comes to desire, he was as shameless and basic as they come.
As the most unapologetic, stereotypical man driven by lust and appetite, his eyes had always sized women up by their curves — was the chest ample enough? Was the derrière perky? His latest impression of Lilian came from that one time they bumped into her at a restaurant while he was out with Dave.
She wore a white denim mini skirt paired with a fitted, cropped yellow top that revealed a flash of smooth, pale waist and a cheeky little belly button. The youthful shape of her body was laid bare for all to see: a slender waist, long legs, and skin so flawless and soft it looked like it could burst with fresh collagen at any moment.
Before that, he'd only known Lilian as a little girl. He'd known Dave for years, and whenever he saw Lilian, she was always in a school uniform with long hair and straight-cut bangs — a proper student.
But since she went off to university and started living a more colourful social life, he'd barely seen her. When they ran into her at the restaurant, he barely recognised her.
That's why he'd sighed to Dave, saying she'd blossomed into a stunner.
Sitting in the private room with Dave, he took a big gulp of water because his throat had suddenly gone dry.
And that dryness? Well, it was filthy — all thanks to the image of Lilian's figure that had popped into his head. His first thought was how tight and tempting she must be beneath it all.
So when she asked him to teach her how to date, he was more than eager.
And knowing she'd never been in a relationship before? That made him feel almost… relieved.
She was genuinely a good girl.
When they finally met, she looked like an innocent little bunny — pure and untouched. After years of seeing bold, forward, sexy women, he found her delicate innocence far more enticing. His mind couldn't help but wander to countless imagined scenarios of her under him — so pure, it must be her first time, and it would definitely hurt, maybe even make her cry… and probably curse him too.
The more he thought about it, the more his mind wandered — and well, his body responded accordingly.
So, caught up in the moment and without a filter, he blurted out that his "lessons" would have to start from the very last step: the bedroom.
That completely freaked her out. She spun on her heel and bolted.
Not one to come away empty-handed, he quickly backtracked and kissed her — which only scared her off even more.
After she stormed off, he headed to the bathroom for a cold shower to cool down. He knew full well she was off-limits. Dave alone could ruin his life if he crossed that line.
Besides, he wasn't ready to settle down yet. No way was he going to mess around with a little girl.
He couldn't just hold hands, share a few kisses, and have a sweet, innocent romance — that was way too tame for him.
At his age, if a woman caught his eye, things had to progress to the bedroom — or it simply wasn't worth it.
So he told himself to forget the whole thing.
But try as he might, he couldn't shake her from his thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that delicate, pretty face, those pure, clear eyes.
Truth be told, he'd seen plenty of women, but she was undeniably beautiful — a real looker. Dave's good looks didn't come from nowhere, after all.
She'd inherited the best of both Daniel and Tiffany's features. Raised by Tiffany, she carried a quiet, serene air about her.
Normally, a girl like her wouldn't pull something so scandalous as asking a notorious playboy to teach her about love.
That made him curious — there was no way it was really just because he was handsome.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was that she'd teased him and then walked away like it was nothing. And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about her.
It was maddening. Who does that? Says they want to date, then runs off? If you can't play, don't start the game.
With him, once something began, it wasn't so easy to just end it.
He was restless for days, which was rare — he hated feeling unsettled. He was a man who always got what he wanted.
So one day, he picked up his phone and called her, asking to meet.
He told himself it was just the classic "want what you can't have" effect — maybe after a chat, he'd lose interest.
After all, there was no way they were sleeping together — and she barely had a clue about romance anyway. Once he got bored, he could easily find some excuse to ditch her, say he'd "completed the lessons" and be done with it.
When they met, he gave in and agreed to start from holding hands — and follow her steps from there. He promised he wouldn't push anything if she wasn't comfortable.
She agreed, and they went out for dinner together.
But even holding hands nearly drove him mad. She started with some nonsense about sweaty palms during hand-holding being because the other person was nervous. He nearly spat out his drink.
What kind of rubbish was that? Morrison, who'd been around the block more times than he could count, knew one thing — nobody got nervous just holding hands.
Seeing his face, she pulled out her phone and Googled for ages. Then, she looked up at him and said, "I checked again. It might not be nerves. Sweaty palms could be a sign of kidney weakness."
He was about to lose it. If he hadn't already agreed to follow her lead, he'd have made her check his kidneys right then and there — in the car.
But since he'd promised, he swallowed his irritation. Instead, he snatched her phone, switched it off, and slammed it down on the back seat, scowling.
"No phones when you're with me. Understood?"
His tone was harsh, his movements rough. She pouted, looked down, twisting her fingers quietly in protest.
"I don't think you're really dating me. Dating's supposed to be sweet. Why are you so angry with me?"
Her words hinted she was ready to give up, but she was clearly well-mannered — no shouting, no tears, no tantrums.
Morrison was practically ready to jump out of his skin. What did she mean he was being "angry" at her?
Wasn't she the one who'd annoyed him first? Calling him kidney-weak — that was basically a slap in the face about his manhood!
But then again, she was clueless about all these matters between men and women. How could he really be mad at her?
He rolled down the window to let some fresh air in, trying to calm himself. Then he turned back to her, grit his teeth, and muttered an apology.
"Sorry, that was a failure on my part as a teacher. Won't happen again."
She looked up at him, big eyes full of hurt.
"You don't need to apologise. If you don't want to teach me, or if teaching me makes you this miserable, just say so. I won't force you…"
Lilian felt pretty down herself. They'd barely met, and he'd already been so rough with her. How was this supposed to be romance? Her roommates all had sweet, loving relationships. Sure, they argued sometimes — but not on day one. What even was this?
She wondered if maybe he just didn't like her. And honestly, asking him to teach her how to date had been a bit thoughtless. She immediately regretted that call.
She had no idea what had been running through her head when she made it.
Now, there was no turning back.
Morrison sat there, speechless.
If he didn't want to teach her, why had he come all the way to her university to find her?
Still, he had to admit — he'd been rude just now. He rarely ever lost his temper with women. But no woman had ever pushed his buttons quite like this.
Who starts out by calling him kidney-weak? Even if it was unintentional, it was still infuriating.
He stared at her quietly for a moment, then started the engine.
"Let's just grab something to eat first."
Lilian didn't say anything. She just stared out the window.
Morrison had been planning this all along. Before coming to find her, he'd already booked a table at a nearby restaurant. He'd been confident, absolutely certain she'd agree to date him. He just hadn't expected to get so thoroughly riled up by her.
He was a romantic at heart. The private room was specially arranged with soft candlelight, delicious food, and a large bouquet of roses.
For Lilian, who'd never been pursued by a man before, it was a revelation. The moment she stepped into the room and took in the atmosphere, all the frustrations from the journey melted away.
She wasn't the kind to hold grudges anyway. Turning happily towards him, she said, "Mr Morrison, thank you."
Morrison frowned. They were dating now, yet she still called him Mr Morrison — wasn't that a bit... formal?
Too distant.
Maybe they needed to have a proper talk about how she should address him.