Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I feel bad. I ditched her that night because I couldn’t stand the idea of going back inside, and when she called in a total panic asking me to prove I didn’t get human trafficked, I made up some excuse about not feeling well. Then she offered to come over Sunday with chicken soup, which I rejected, followed by a bunch of questions about the true nature of my illness, which I evaded to the best of my ability.
“Nothing,” I say and feel extremely lame from my head to my toes. “Just didn’t feel good, that’s all.”
“Uh, yeah, right.” Giorgia sits down on the edge of my desk. She’s wearing a long pencil skirt and a silky blouse. Her blonde hair hangs in waves to her shoulders and her makeup is absolutely immaculate. I’ve known her for a couple of years now, and she’s the sort of take-no-bullshit person who will absolutely not let this go. That makes her a wonderful best friend, but really, really hard to lie to. She works in the research division of the firm like me, and basically, we’re tasked with pulling legal documents and hunting down client information for all the attorneys as needed.
I rub my temple and plaster on a smile. “Can we just pretend like Saturday never happened? Seriously, G, can we let it go?”
“Definitely not.” She pushes her lips together. “You ditched me without so much as a goodbye. You owe me an explanation.”
“I was sick. I didn’t feel good. Stomach issues, dizziness, headaches, spontaneous combustion, it was really bad.”
“Wow, for a girl who was literally on fire a day ago, you look great.”
I sigh and put my face in my hands. “It was a guy. Okay?”
“Now we’re talking,” she says, sounding far too excited as she shimmies closer and pitches her voice lower so nobody can hear. “There was a rumor that some power couple took over the men’s room for like ten minutes and wouldn’t let anyone inside. I overheard a bunch of drunk investment bankers complaining about it.”
I arch my eyebrows. “How did you know they were investment bankers? Are you sure you overheard them?”
“Yeah, definitely, while they were buying me drinks. What did you do, Stef?”
I take a deep breath and blow it out. There’s no way I can keep this from Giorgia, and honestly, a part of me doesn’t want to hide it. I mean, I’m not exactly ashamed of what I did. I believe in every woman’s right to bodily autonomy and sexual pleasure, and think slut-shaming is regressive patriarchal bullshit, but since I’m from a regressive patriarchal mob family, that sort of deep guilt is built into my very DNA.
“There was this guy—”
Giorgia squeals with pure, fresh-squeezed delight. “You did not.”
“He spilled a drink on me by accident, then I spilled a drink on him on purpose, and then he sort of, uh, helped me, uh, get cleaned up… in the bathroom.”
Her eyes turn into full moons and she covers her mouth with both hands as my face burns with the heat of a lifetime of sexual repression and overbearing gender norms.
“Tell me this cleaning involved his dick,” she whispers and leans close. “Tell me you got it.”
“No, it involved, uh—” I can’t even look at her as I say it. “His mouth.”
She howls and breaks down into a fit of laughter. I lean back and glare at her, mortification turning into anger as a legal secretary shoots us an annoyed look from across the aisle.
“I am so fucking proud of you,” Giorgia says once she’s under control. “I’m serious, you’ve been dying for a little something for so freaking long, it’s unreal. I didn’t expect it to happen with a stranger in a club bathroom, but you do you, no judgment here. I’m just happy you’re okay, that’s all.”
“I’m fine,” I admit and it feels good to get this off my chest, honestly. “It was just weird, you know? I was all apologetic at first, then he was being a total dick about it, and then he made this extremely dirty comment—”
“What did he say?” she whispers, almost bouncing up and down with excitement. “Oh my god, you have to tell me.”
I wish I could keep my stupid mouth shut because of course Giorgia wants me to spill the details, and now she’ll never let it go until I tell her. It’s either we end our friendship here and now, or I explode with embarrassment. Sighing, hating myself, I stand and lean up to her ear, and tell her the bit about shoving panties into my mouth—and make sure not to mention that he actually did it.
She stares at me, not laughing this time, and I swear her ears are turning red as I sit back down, feeling a little smug, happy that I could stun her into silence for once.