Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
It’s all quite civilized for a while, the first hour spent as it usually is when we do this, everyone getting progressively drunker, Todd throwing me look after look as they start to get more touchy-feely with us. Then, as predicted, our group breaks up, and Todd leads Cherry to the other side of the room for some privacy, settling her on the couch and getting cozy.
I smile and tip my bottle of beer to my mouth, dropping my eyes to my knee when a hand is neatly placed on it. I look up at Maxine, and she smiles demurely, moving in closer. She’s definitely mid-twenties. This isn’t going anywhere, except to the bedroom.
“So you own a security firm?” She cocks her head, looking interested, but I’ve been here too many times before. I see straight through her feigned interest in what I actually do for a living. She’s more interested in how much money I earn. I’m not in denial. I’m a mature, wealthy man. It’s a fucking tragedy that early forties counts as mature these days. The fact that I have looks supporting me too, makes me a magnet for a certain kind of woman. Like this woman here. She’s a gold digger through and through. Why am I only admitting this now?
“I own a security firm, yes,” I confirm.
“It must be a successful security firm.” She casts her eyes around my home.
“I scrape by.” I have another glug of my drink but pause when my phone starts vibrating on the bar. I frown and scoop it up when I see Lo’s name, feeling panicked. Shit, what if she needs me to fetch her again? I’m too pissed to drive, and I left my car in town.
Boris says hi.
I smile at my screen, relaxing in relief.
Hi back to Boris. What are you doing awake at this time?
It’s gone midnight. And isn’t it a bit risky her texting me like this? What if he catches her? What if he reads her messages? I start to worry for Lo, my worry only growing as I spend the next ten minutes waiting for a reply while Maxine drapes herself all over me, stroking my arm, whispering in my ear, trying to seduce me. Why hasn’t Lo answered me? I spin my phone in my hand, totally ignoring the woman sprawled across my lap as my mind spirals. I scroll back through our exchanged messages, trying to see how they read. How suggestive they would seem to someone. Someone like a husband. What would he do?
I jolt on my stool at my straying thoughts. I have to respect that she’s married, but would a friend let her go home to a monster every night? Actually, doesn’t the fact that I’ve promised not to ask make me a terrible friend?
Why hasn’t she replied?
Gently moving Maxine from my lap, ignoring her slighted face, I pour myself a Scotch and sip it while I try to figure out what to do. I honestly don’t know. I can’t call her in case she’s with him. Fuck, this is horrible. I look up and see Todd and Cherry squirming around on the couch, going at each other like sex-starved teenagers, and Maxine has now climbed up onto the bar, attempting to grind her crotch in my face.
I turn away, and when my phone dings, I rush to open the message and breathe a sigh of relief when I read it.
Struggling to sleep.
Why’s she struggling to sleep? What’s on her mind? I look up at Maxine and across to my slag of a friend, who’s now starting to remove his prey’s clothes. Then I feel friction in my crotch area, and I glance down to find Maxine’s hand stroking me. There’s not even a twitch of movement beyond my fly, and when she starts to unzip me, I take her wrist to stop her. “Not tonight.” Grabbing the bottle of Scotch, I stride out of the room.
“Hey, where are you going?” Maxine calls.
“Make yourself at home.” I take the stairs fast and make my way to my bedroom, kicking my shoes off, and placing my bottle on the bedside cabinet. I yank off my tie and strip down to my boxers, and then lie on the bed, propping myself up on the pillows.
Why?
I need to know. I click send and wait, hoping she won’t take too long to answer this time, because each delay increases my apprehension.
Did you have a good night?
I stare at her reply, running the rim of my glass across my bottom lip. She’s evaded my question. Why? I’m desperate to know, yet I’ve fast learned with Lo that I shouldn’t push it. But before I answer her, another message comes through.
Can you talk?
She wants to talk? Another why? She’s at home. How the hell can she talk to me if she’s at home with her husband?