Glyma snorted. “Oh, sweetie, no, you’re not. If you were a man, you’d say you want me to wear the cardigan to cover my cleavage.”
Quin’s head shot up. “I do want you to cover your cleavage. It’s even more distracting than your shoulders; I just didn’t want to be crude.”
“Oh, okay.” Arm outstretched, Glyma made grabby hands at the cardigan. “I can definitely wear that cardigan if it makes things easier for you.”
With an embarrassed huff, Quin grabbed the cardigan and shoved it into her waiting hand. “If I could have casually offered a parka, I would have.”
The cardigan was soft and smelled even more like Quin, and Glyma hesitated. “Is this yours?”
“Yes, but it’s clean,” Quin assured her.
“It still smells like you,” Glyma whispered, and Quin’s shoulders fell.
“I didn’t think of that.”
“That’s fine. I bet I can borrow a sweater from Marci.”
A rather unhinged sound burst from Quin along with a rush of smoke from her nostrils. She even stamped a hoof under the table, and Glyma froze halfway out of her chair. For a moment, she swore flames flickered in Quin’s red pupils, and she lowered herself back into her seat.
“You know what, this cardigan is fine. Perfect, actually.” She shoved her arms into the almost-too-tight sleeves and buttoned it up as high as it could go. The buttons stretched rather obscenely over her well-endowed chest, but she did her best toflatten the fabric as she inspected herself. “I kinda feel like a librarian. I just need some glasses.”
Quin gave her a onceover before her expression glitched and her eyes widened. Her energy crackled against Glyma’s aura, and they both squeaked.
“Okay, so you’re into that,” Glyma said.
“Oh my gods,” Quin lamented.
“Hey, that’s fine. I never kink shame. Librarian roleplay is more common than you think. I’ve done it loads of times.”
“Oh my gods!” Quin cried, and Glyma started to panic.
She fiddled with the top button. “Cardigan off?”
“But the cleavage,” Quin whimpered.
She dropped her hand to her lap. “So, cardigan on?”
Slumping in her seat, Quin threw up her hands in surrender. “I don’t know.”
She wanted to reach across the table and place a comforting hand on Quin’s arm, but physical contact probably wasn’t helpful right now. “I just want to do whatever makes you feel less sexually frustrated.”
With the most cynical tone imaginable, Quin leveled her with a dry expression and said, “I’m a lesbian about to marry an asexual man because I’m a coward caving to my parents’ expectations. I think it’s safe to say I’m always sexually frustrated.”
“That makes me very sad,” Glyma confessed. “And it also kind of makes me want to give you an orgasm.”
Quin facepalmed with a groan.
“You know, to help ease your frustra—” Quin held up a palm and Glyma hesitated, then finished the word anyway, “—tion.”
A knock at the door startled them both, and Quin spun in her chair as the door to the conference room opened and Marci popped her head in. “Is everything okay? I thought I heard shouting.”
“We’re fine,” they both said simultaneously.
Marci’s gaze ping-ponged between them. “O-kay.”
Quin ran a soothing palm over one of her curling horns. “Thank you, Marci.”
“Sure,” Marci said, smiling shyly at Glyma. “Are you sure you didn’t want a sandwich or something, Glyma?”
