“And secondly, I’m really tired.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Me. Caramel. Dinner. Netflix. And wine: lots of wine, to help me forget the feeling of his hands under my dress, my underwear slipping down my legs, and… I really need to stop, or I’ll have to start drinking right now. And it’s only two p.m.
“Just a quiet evening in.”
“Do you want me to come and keep you company?”
“No, I’ll be fine. You go out and have fun. I can always see you tomorrow.”
“It’d probably be better to just see you on Monday at work. I don’t think I’ll be human tomorrow; not after the night I’m planning to have.”
“Does that mean that I’ll get a full run-through on Monday?”
“I’ll bring coffee.”
“I think you’ll need it.”
“Maybe a chocolate muffin, too. One of those ones with chocolate sauce in the middle.”
“Or else,” I say, mock-threatening her with my fork before I get back to my lunch.
“Can I ask you something?”
I lift my eyes to the ceiling in anticipation.
“It’ll be the last question, I swear.”
“Go for it.”
“Is it really as big as I’m imagining?”
“What are you talking about?”
“His…”
“Oh, for the love of God! Anya!”
“What?”
“Does that seem like an appropriate question to you?”
“Size matters.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Ugh. You’ve given me absolutely nothing to fantasize about.”
“Maybe because there isn’t much to fantasize about.”
“I wouldn’t believe that even if I’d been in the bedroom with you.”
I feel flames licking at my cheeks.
“Oh, fuck. Don’t tell me.”
His hands on my backside, he lifts me up and pushes me against the hallway wall. I link my legs around his waist and grab onto his shoulders.
