There's a quiche in the fridge. I picked your outfit for tonight, stole your phone, and called Cloud to invite her. I told her we're out to make Red jealous but didn't tell her the details. She's awesome. I'll pick her up on the way to your place tonight.
Eat and drink some water. We'll paint the town so bright tonight our men are going to cum in their pants when they see our pics.
Love ya!
D
P.S. Red lipstain is a MUST!
Ilaugh and smile so hard, it hurts my cheeks. Then I roll out of bed, go into the kitchen, and heat the quiche. I eat it all, then go into the closet.
Demi must have put the tripod, light ring, and clothes rack in my other room. A black leather miniskirt that barely covers my ass, a sheer crimson top with long sleeves and a plunging neckline hang on the door hook. Strappy stilettos that make my legs look endless sit on the floor next to the door.
Gotta love Demi!
I stand in front of the mirror and study myself. The swelling around my eyes has gone down. My lips look bitten, not bruised. My hair is a tangled halo of blue and red. I look alive but not wild like when I was taking the footage.
I go out, grab my phone, and check the private account. I click the view button on my story, and my adrenaline spikes.
Red saw them. Every story. Every flash. Every whispered taunt.
The 1H warning at the top of my stories sends another gleeful shot through me.
He's going to hate it when they disappear!
Tonight I'll give him more.
Demi's warning flies through my head and quickly disappears.
The risk is worth it.
I'll figure out how to tell my father.
The next few hours, I watch TV in bed, keeping Red's shirt balled up and near my nose, inhaling the fading scent. When it's time to get ready, I paint my lips red, put on the outfit Demi picked out, and line my eyes until they look like weapons.
I spritz my favorite perfume between my breasts, documenting it on video, then upload it to my stories. I step into the living room, and Demi walks through my front door, dressed in gold sequins that catch the light like knives with Cloud by her side, wearing a purple minidress meant to kill and hot-pink hair.
Demi whistles low. "Jesus. He's going to combust."
Cloud affirms, "That is lethal!"
I sing, "That's the plan." Then I add, "I love your hair!"
"Thanks!" Cloud beams.
Demi holds her phone in the air. "Ready?"
We step next to her, and she snaps a photo. Then she uploads it and says, "Don't worry. I already friended Red on my account." She winks.
We laugh then leave my apartment. In the elevator, I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall, approving of my bright eyes, curved mouth, and body humming with anticipation.
Red's going to see exactly what he's missing.
When the stories start rolling in tonight, when every tagged photo shows me laughing, dancing, and untouchable, he won't just wonder.
He'll ache.
CHAPTER TEN
