I wish someone would justmakeme.
Make me talk to a guy, make me kiss a guy, make me just spread my legs for the right man so I can get over this anxiety I have.
Four whole orgasms—not including the ones from earlier today—and I’m still unsatisfied. The ache between my legs is still there, beneath the pulsing aftershocks of my last climax.
A breeze blows in, and the candles gutter out, leaving me in a king-sized bed by myself, aching with desperate need, too shy to go out with my only friend to actually meet someone who could change my life.
Can I be cured?
Or will this ritual be the only thing that keeps me sane?
2
EVIE
When I wake up,I don’t even bother opening my eyes. I just reach for Charles’ drawer like I do every morning as a matter of habit. But just as I grab the knob, the sound of knocking at the front door nearly startles me out of bed.
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I sit up and deflate. I recognize the sound instantly. Reese.
“Wake up, loser!” she shouts, adding a kick that actually shakes the walls of my crappy apartment.
“Coming!” I shout groggily as I crawl out of bed and into a pair of raggedy Santa pajama bottoms. I have no idea where I got them or why I still have them, but they’re comfortable.
Reese is all wide-eyed and full of smiles when I open the door, and she throws herself onto me, nearly crushing me in a hug. She still smells of smoke and alcohol from wherever she was last night.
“Have you slept yet?” I ask.
Laughing, she shakes her head. “Met thishotguy named Trevor. Not just hot, but also so nice. We ended up talking all night at his place.”
“Just talking?” I ask. She pushes past me inside.
“Well. And some other stuff…” Using her middle finger, she makes a suggestive motion between her legs.
“Riiiight.” I nod.
“How was your night?” she asks, gulping down an entire glass of water in seconds. She’s talking just fine, but I’d bet she’s still hung over.
“Oh, ya know,” I reply, looking away. “Same ‘ol same ‘ol.”
Making a tsk sound with her tongue against her teeth, she takes a seat at the table and gives me that look my mom always used to give me when I lived at home. Disapproval.
“You’re gonna jack-hammer your pussy into bubblegum, you know that, right?”
Groaning, I go to the pantry and grab some cereal. “Leave me alone.” I’m still slightly mortified that Reese knows my schedule with Charles. I let it slip one night, and I regret it. But that wasn’t half as bad as when she found him in between the couch cushions on another one of her unannounced visits.
“I’m just trying to help,” she replies. “And speaking of which, you’re coming out tonight.”
“Am not.”
“You are. That guy I met? He’s throwing a house-warming party later, andyouare coming.”
“Nope,” I reply as I sit down with my bowl. “I’m gonna eat my cereal, work on a few logos I have to design for this new publishing company, and then—”
“And then lock yourself in your bedroom with Charles,” she interrupts, cocking one eyebrow at me. “Am I wrong?”
Shrugging, I spoon a mouthful of cereal and just give herthe look. The one all girlfriends have that basically says everything without saying it. She smirks back at me. “You know, I’m not leaving until you agree to come out. And I’m going to make itimpossiblefor you to work while I’m here.”
My stomach drops. She’s half-joking but also serious. Reese doesn’t do this sort of thing often, but when she gets her mind set, there’s no changing it.
