I’m trying on freaking lingerie to wear for a man because I’ve always wanted to.
The old Maisie could never.
But the new Maisie? This woman that I feel like I’m unearthing and stepping into all at once?
She’s a force. A part of me that I’m so proud of myself for being brave enough to seek out.
Pulling out my phone, I text Wilder before I lose the courage.
Maisie: Hey Coach.
Delete delete delete.
Maisie: So… about the other day…
Delete delete delete.
I blow out a sigh, tugging the corner of my lip between my teeth.
It’s just a freaking text message. The man literally had his fingers inside of you three days ago. This? Is nothing.
My thumbs tap at the screen once more.
Maisie: Busy tonight?
God, that sounds so stupid. The freaking smiley face?
He’s going to think I’m so childish. But it’s too late. I pressed Send, and it’s not like I can unsend it because then it looks even weirder.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and my eyes dart back to the screen, stomach flipping when I see that he’s already responded.
Holy shit.Already?
Coach: Are we texting each other now?
Maisie: Well, you finger fucked me like three days ago, so I thought texting was the next step.
I giggle, watching as the dots on the screen dance, then disappear, only to pick back up a few seconds later.
Coach: You and that mouth. What did I tell you about it?
Maisie: Hm. can’t remember. You’ll have to remind me next time I see you.
Maisie: Speaking of… Answer my question.
Maisie: Pls
Coach: I’ve got game material to review.
I chew my lip, an idea suddenly flitting through my head, one that is slightly reckless but so freaking exhilarating.
Before I can think twice, I hold my phone above my head, angling it just so I can snap a photo of a small sliver of what I’m wearing, and I attach it to the message.
Maisie: Sounds boring. I guess you’re too busy to see what I bought today then.
PHOTO ATTACHMENT
Coach: Fucking hell. What the fuck is this, Maisie?
