“Keep telling yourself that.” She teased. “But seriously, you should have spent a mill on that. It looks amazeballs on you and he’s going to looosseee his mindddd. Maybe he’ll propose to you too, because why wouldn’t he?”
I laughed. “He’s not proposing to me. I don’t know if he is the settling down kind. I think he’s just going to be fun for a while.”
“What? No. He is smitten with you.”
“No. I think I’m just new.”
She rolled her eyes. “There is new, and then there is what you two have. I’m pretty sure my hair was standing on end when he came around you.”
I blushed. I was trying to lay the groundwork for this being a fun short-term thing, but it appeared this was going to be a harder sell than I initially thought. She had to be misreading things because it wasn’t just the two of us. Sure, right now it was, but it also wasn’t. The others were there, and I wanted them too. I wanted to experience all of them and I would tomorrow night. Ideas flittered through my mind at all the wild and crazy things I was going to experience. I’d had a threesome once in college too, but a fivesome. I felt a wave of excitement travel from my chest, past my stomach, to my clit, which was now throbbing.
Divert! Divert! Divert! I started yelling at myself like a submarine blast echoing through the tight metal chambers. Tonight was going to be research and planning and tomorrow we would implement said plan into action.
Bring on the magic sticks! Nope. Beef whistles? Crevice crawlers? One eyed yogurt slingers? I sighed. I tried to channel my inner Lizzy, but I couldn’t do it.
She dropped me out in front of my apartment building, giving me a quick hug and a hopeful smile. I gathered the bag, threw it over my arm, and hiked up the stairs. I hung the dress in the living room and walked into my closet, kicked off my shoes, slipped into my jam jams, grabbed my e-reader, and waited for my sushi to be delivered.
Tomato Tomato
Theyclosedtheofficeat lunch today so we could all go home and get ready for this evening. Usually theses big events were on the weekend, but our client wanted to make it a Valentine’s Day gala. There were talks around the office the company was flying in a chef from France, apparently one of the most sought after in the world.
Last night, I had skimmed through two books and found the key smut sections very enlightening, so I had a good idea of what I needed to do so I didn’t embarrass myself. And! And! I didn’t masturbate while reading. Goodness knows I wanted to because dammmnnn, but I was letting it all build up for tonight. Although I was pretty sure I was going to be sexually ruined without any help from me, but I was proud of myself. Small victories.
Dinner started at six, but we were expected to show up at five for hors d’oeuvre and champagne. I would try not to mispronounce hors d’oeuvre, but ever since that Christmas movie where the wealthy had to go home and visit their less than wealthy family and are offered ‘whores do vrey’ which ended up being spray cheese on crackers, I can’t say it any other way.
Callum texted and said he’d pick me up at four fifteen. He wanted to make sure we didn’t get stuck in traffic and didn’t want to be late. I could appreciate that, but it meant we would likely get there thirty minutes early, and thirty minutes stuck in the car with a man god was going to be trouble for me.
I finished getting ready, opting for light makeup with a hint of shimmer and a simple updo with hanging curls. I wanted to get my hair off my neck, but not make it overly complicated for the post party shindig tonight.
Nerves were starting to take grip the longer I had to wait. I glanced at my phone. Three minutes.
My phone buzzed.
Lizzy.
Girl. You better be getting ready to send me a pic!
Yep! You caught me.
You weren’t going to? After the countless hours I spent with you shopping?
You mean the fifteen minutes?
Tomato Tomato.
I chuckled because I read it the same way and was confused for half a second until I read it again the way she would have said it.
I sat my phone on the table, set the timer, and gave her a few model poses. I checked the photos and then sent them to her.
Did you wax? Shave? You aren’t on your period, are you? Oh, that would be horrible.
No. Yes. No. And the worst.
Get you some thundersword, girl.
Thundersword?
Yes. Sexcaliber, Yankee Doodle.
