What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever masturbated to?
Have you ever looked at your own butthole in the mirror, and if so, did you like what you saw?
‘It isn’t someone from E-Volve,’ Heather says in a serious tone. Thankfully, she’s not off her tits on cheap bubbles. ‘They’d have used the same card. It’s been sitting on my desk all week.’ I consider the note in my hand, blue biro scrawled hastily on a piece of paper than appears to have been torn from a notebook.
‘I bet it was one of theLust Islandguys,’ I say scanning the room for the sight of one of the heavily muscled, darkly tanned, and carefully styled miscreants. They were only supposed to be here for the reception to kiss a few cheeks and shake a few hands. And some publicity shots, of course. Thankfully, these didn’t include the signing some of the attendees boobs.
So much for peopleevolving.
‘They did seem to have the sense of humour of fourteen-year-olds,’ Heather adds. ‘And to think I was looking forward to meeting them.’
‘They’re hot, though,’ Mir announces, swaying a little.
‘Ew, Mir. One of them is wearing pink pants that don’t touch his ankles! He looks like aClub Tropicanareject.’
‘Pssht,’ her cousin replies, with a heavy wave of her hand. ‘They’re fashionable.’
‘Baa!’ Heather bleats. ‘Only sheep follow fashion.’
‘Miranda, go and sit down, please.’ I point to an empty booth away from the main event before the two get into this any deeper. ‘I don’t have time to deal with you right now.’ With an exaggerated pout, she trots off in the direction I’d indicated.
‘Our so-called celebs; have they left?’
‘No, I think I saw them go downstairs to the other bar.’ Heather shrugs, her expression twisting.
‘No doubt adding drinks to my tab. Just be sure to stay away from them.’ I turn over my phone, which is set to the stopwatch app. ‘The three minutes are up. Do you want to do the honours?’ Heather gives an excited little nod, making her way over to the brass gong framed in a carved wooden stand which we’ve set on the bar. She hits it solidly with the accompanying lollipop sized hammer.
‘Gentlemen,’ she announces following the low shimmering hum, her confident voice carrying just as clear across the room. ‘Please change your tables.’
‘I love bashing that,’ she admits shyly as she returns. ‘I think we should take it to the office to announce staff meetings and stuff.’
‘Why not?’ I reply, amused.
‘Where’d you get it from?’
‘It’s Beckett’s. I’ve just borrowed it for the night.’
‘Cool.’
‘Listen, Heather, I just wanted to say that I’m so proud of you.’ I pull her in for a hug because tonight, she’s really stepped up to the plate. She’d swapped her jeans, T-shirt and sneakers for a skirt, shirt and ballet flats, not only looking the part, but embodying it, too. ‘You handled yourself really well when those drunks tried to sneak in earlier.’
‘Not on my watch,’ she says, drawing herself taller. ‘I’ve got three older brothers. I don’t take anyone’s shit.’
‘Good for you.’
‘Speaking of which,’ she says. ‘Do you want to get ready to ring the gong for all change or do you want to chuck that chancer out?’ My gaze follows hers to the door where a handsome blond in a blue suit is sneaking in. Not sneaking exactly; men as good looking as him have no need of being furtive.
‘You do the gong. I think this has something to do with my husband.’ Because behind the hottie comes another piece of hotness, all brooding six-foot-two of him.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, unable to keep my delight from my tone.
‘We thought you might need a little moral support,’ Beckett answers, drawing me in for a quick kiss. ‘And I didn’t want you running away with anyone else.’ His purr is low in my ear.
Ladies and gents, this is your four-minute marker.
‘You’re not getting rid of me that easy.’ I absolutely can’t help my tinkling laugh or the bloom of pleasure radiating through my bones. Reggie was right; this is the Beckett effect. Sniping and arguing, or loving words, I’m mad for the man. And I think it might be time I pull up my big girl panties and tell him exactly that.
‘I want to introduce you to someone,’ he says, his expression warm as he pulls on my hand, leading me across the room. ‘Olivia, this is one of my oldest friends, James Harrison.’ The blond holds out his hand, my gaze flicking immediately to Beckett.He’s introducing me to his friend? Talk about a reversal of plans.
