I am oh-so-curious to see what that means.
I smiled, self-satisfied and hoped to blow her fucking mind in the next twenty-four hours. I hadn’t seen her in weeks, and phone sex barely scratched the itch. I wanted to hear her come and watch her lose herself.
Chapter 37
Gothenburg
MARY
“Will this work?” I asked, concerned about how realistic Betty’s disguise was.
“It worked for my cousin and her husband in Copenhagen—supposedly. When they were dating, this was all they would do,” Betty said. “What? You don’t like me as a blonde?”
She pulled her long wig into a simple ponytail.
“I will always like you,” I pulled her close, “but I have a thing for bisexual redheads. I do like the fringe though.”
She gripped my hips, then slipped her hands into my back pockets. “I promise I will be a redhead later when I’m fucking you.”
Betty kissed me in a way that made my neck hair prick.
“God, I don’t want to go out now,” I groaned.
“You told me it would be fun. I want to go! This is only my second time at a bar like this.”
The plan was to hit up a local gay bar. It wasn’t a lesbian bar, but it was protective, private, and sufficiently queer.
“Is this the vibe?” Betty askedabout her outfit.
“It’s casual, which you nailed. And those jeans…” I shook my head. “Damn you have the best ass.”
Betty settled a ball cap on her head and pulled her ponytail through.
“So, the whole thing isn’ttoobutch?”
“Would you mind if it is?” I laughed.
She shrugged.
“For the record, Bets, I don’t think there is anything you could do that would even slightly label you anything but lippy. Now, come on, princess. Let’s try not to get caught.”
Privacy was the name of the game. A queer dive bar provided us cover. It wasn’tquiteThe Bookstore, but there was a varied crowd that knew to keep what happened under wraps. If we hit the regular clubs, I gathered we would have been photographed. By ducking out a special hotel backdoor, we avoided hubbub.
“You know you’re like a fucking secret agent, right?” I asked Betty.
“I have countless cousins and five older brothers who have done this dance,” Betty squeezed my hand. “I am good.”
We ordered drinks at the bar. A woman on the other side raised her glass to Betty. She turned to me, confused.
“Does she know me?”
I looked over and shook my head. “No. I think shewantsto know you, but she doesn’t.”
Betty didn’t respond the way I expected. Instead, she leaned in and kissed me, pulling onto my jean belt loops possessively.
“What was that?” I asked.
“You’re mine. We’re together. I didn’t want that to be ambiguous.”
