Bad Girl Gone Good

By: N. Franko

“Your algorithm is garbage.”

Well that was blunt. “Garbage? It works perfectly. Besides, it’s just a mathematical equation. It’s not designed for quality.” She might be rich and scary, but her specialty was business. She did not understand how algorithms worked.

“All right, fine. I don’t know how it works and frankly, I don’t care. It’s not my area of expertise. We still need to fix this. We’re losing customers. Word on the street is that you don’t use eLove unless you want to be scammed. Why are we running rampant with scammers? Why don’t we have a way to filter these things out?”

I never even thought of that. “Well, I suppose I could try to beef up security somehow. It’s pretty hard to weed out fake profiles, though.”

“Well, figure out a way. We’re going to do a rebrand,” she snapped.

“A rebrand? But we’ve built this brand from the ground up,” John said. The name eLove was his idea. Personally, I thought it was a little corny but the guy was pretty attached to it.

“I know, I don’t like it either. It will cost us a pretty penny but our reputation depends on it.” She stood up to leave. It was only now I was noticing her tight, black dress that showed off an tight ass. If I wasn’t afraid for my life, I would totally try to hit that. “I’ll send over a marketing team for the rebrand. In the meantime, fix the algorithm or this scamming issue or whatever. Just fix it.”

“With all due respect,” I said. “The algorithm is fine. I’ll see what I can do about the identity thing but there’s nothing wrong with my algorithm.”

“Really? Have you tried it yourself?” She sneered in a mocking way, implying that I needed a dating site to get laid.

“No,” I replied, meeting her mocking tone. “I don’t need an algorithm to get laid.”

“Oh really? Well, maybe that’s the problem. Fix this mess,” she said as she sauntered out of the office.

John let out a sigh of relief as he slumped back into his chair. “That wasn’t so bad. At least it was quick,” he said. “That could’ve been much worse.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my algorithm,” I said. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And identity verification is tricky. The entire Internet basically runs on trolls and scammers.”

“She’s right, though. How do you know there isn’t a problem with the algorithm if you haven’t tested it yourself?” John said, mockingly.

“Like I said, I don’t need an algorithm to get laid. Anymore.”

I stared at my computer screen. My stupid, smiling face stared back, daring me to make the move. I made a profile to test out the site for myself. I decided that Angelina was right. I had to know what was going on to know what the problem was. If I got laid along the way? I mean, I’m only human.

I input my criteria for a mate. Female. Check. Blond. Check. Okay, good to go. I wasn’t picky about body type, education or profession or anything. A date is a date, right? There was something about a blond I couldn’t say no to though.

When my search yielded over a million results, I figured I better narrow it down. I hadn’t been with an artsy type in a while, so I made “artist” one of my desired criteria. Artsy chicks can be a crazy mess but man, are they good in bed. Not many artsy blonds came up, so I clicked on the first chick that looked hot.


Age: 22

From: Everywhere

Education: The School of Hard Knocks.

I laughed at her profile details. So vague and yet, there was a charm to it. I took a closer look at her profile picture. Long, gorgeous blond hair cascaded down and framed her face. Her eyes were large, deep brown and there was a vulnerability that came through, even in the photograph. She wore a lot of makeup. Too much almost. Still, she was hot. Something about this girl pulled me in and I couldn’t help myself. I sent her a message.

Nolan: Hey :)

Chapter 3


“You’ll have to make yourself dinner tonight. I’m working the late shift again,” I yelled as I gathered my wallet and stuffed it into my purse. “I think we have frozen fish sticks left.” Colin appeared like a ghost at the door of his room, startling me. He made a face like he’d smelled something bad. “What?”

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