I click the link to DocuSign and scribble my name with my trackpad before I can chicken out.
Done.
I start a reply to the email and add a link to my period tracking app. It’s already primed to permit access to the information in it. I’m ovulating in two days. I settle slightly at the thought of that being too little time to do anything about it. I’ve got a month to prepare myself. I send it. It feels transactional. Cold. Distant. But maybe it has to be. It’s just biology, just my body, just a trade. A service for a service.
My phone buzzes again a few minutes later.
Anthony Voss:
Thank you.
Take the day off tomorrow. Swing by the office in the morning, and I’ll give you a card.
Go shopping.
I stare at the messages in confusion.
Me:
I thought the money was being added to my account?
And shopping? What do you mean?
Anthony Voss:
It will be. I’ll initiate the transaction tonight. It might take two business days since it’s a large sum from an unrecognized account. It’ll be from my personal one, not the business account you get paid from.
And yes. Shopping. Clothes, lingerie.
Whatever you think I’ll enjoy tearing off you is fair game.
I exhale, almost laughing, then snort. He’s insane.
Me:
Do you have a particular color in mind, or am I just supposed to assume black is your favorite since you wear it so much?
His reply isinstant.
Anthony Voss:
Red.
You’d look so good in red.
My cheeks heat up, just a little. I sit up and put my laptop aside. I curl forward a bit, leaning over my phone, and wondering how exactly I’ve gotten into this situation.
Me:
Should I worry that you’re actually a wolf in disguise?
Anthony Voss:
If you’re asking if I enjoy fucking women in front of their partners, no. Don’t worry about that.
If you’re asking about the literal animal, then yes, be very afraid.
I laugh into the silence of my apartment, stifling it with my hand. He’s ridiculous. He’s trying to joke again. And I’m actuallylaughing.
