The bubble comes on.
Then stops.
Then on again.
My hands start sweating.
I have no idea what I want his answer to be. Or if I even want him to answer.
The bubble stays off for a while, and I have no idea if what I'm feeling is relief or disappointment.
I set the phone down and look at the work waiting for me.
I guess this is it. Time to get something done.
Ping.
My eyes fly to my phone, and I reach for it. Not a fast grab and lookâmore like reaching for a scared kitty, waiting for it to hiss and scratch me.
I go to the message thread.
WN
Just to be clear. We're talking underwear here, right?
I don't respond because heat rises in my cheeks.
How can I work knowing I'm panty-less? Knowing he knows?
Even if I don't know him.
Oh, God. I think I might start hyperventilating.
WN
Since you stopped replying, I'm thinking this is too far out of your comfort zone. Maybe I should give you something easier.
He is calling me a big wuss.
Shit. Fuck. Hell.
I stand, putting my phone on the top of the porcelain toilet cistern. Then I wiggle out of them and snap a photo.
I hit send.
There is a photo from him. A pair of black boxer briefs in a drawer in a desk.
WN
Cheating. Snap them for me in the office.
Me
Ass.
WN
Do it.
