Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
She giggles. “Maybe.” Then, the curvy girl runs a small hand down the center of my chest. “And I think you were right, Bruce. Exhibitionism isn’t something I considered before our first night together, but I really liked it. I like it with you.”
I smile. “I noticed. You came three times that night, remember? I’d say you enjoy it a lot.”
Jemima giggles, and then starts unbuttoning my shirt and kisses me again, trailing her lips along my jaw to my ear. Her tongue darts out, trailing up my neck and making me instantly hard. Then the sassy girl whispers in my ear. “Maybe you could remind me just how good it was, big guy. Maybe you could make me come four times tonight? What do you think?”
Immediately, I have her flipped over, her thighs spread and her breasts heaving as I look down on the feast before me.
“Oh, it’ll be my pleasure, sweetheart. My pleasure indeed.”
8
Jemima
* * *
My belly rolls and I jump out of bed, sprinting for the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I get sick, and green and yellow bile hits the water with a splash. Thank God I don’t have to work today because that would be unbearable. Once the vomiting seems like it’s over, I get up and brush my teeth, trying to cleanse my mouth of the vile taste.
After rinsing, I splash some cold water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror. My skin is flushed, and there are bags under my eyes. My stomach rolls again and I take slow, steady breaths, trying to ease the nausea that’s attempting to make another appearance even though I just threw up not moments ago. It takes a few more concerted minutes of deep breathing and another splash of cold water to my face, but things finally seem settled enough to sit down.
Heading to the kitchen in Bruce’s kitchen, I grab myself a warm ginger ale and some crackers from the cabinet, thankful my boyfriend bought them when I first started feeling ill early last week. Taking my little snack with me to the living room, I settle on the couch, draping a blanket across my legs. I take small, tentative nibbles of the crackers, giving myself a little time to digest each bite before swallowing some soda.
How long have I felt like this? Two weeks? Maybe three? Since our date in New York City, I’ve been feeling off and it’s worrisome. I thought it was a virus at first, but it’s gone on too long to be a virus. Besides, stomach bugs are usually only supposed to be a twenty-four hour thing. But that feeling of being off has morphed into full-on nausea beginning a couple weeks ago, and it hasn’t let up. This week, it seems to be hitting me hard almost every morning.
What kind of stomach bug could possibly …? Suddenly, realization strikes and my eyes go wide. “No,” I whisper. “It can’t be.”
Closing my eyes, I think back over the last couple months. I try to remember when I had my last period, but I’ve never been good at tracking them. Still, I’m pretty sure it’s been longer than normal since the last time Aunt Flo came around, and I curse myself. Uh oh. Why can’t I be one of those girls who religiously tracks her period through an app? Oh God.
Throwing the blanket off me, I toss my crackers and drink on the coffee table and take off for Bruce’s closet. Then with fumbling hands, I quickly throw on a t-shirt and pair of shorts before slipping into my shower sandals. Running in the bathroom I take a look in the mirror and realize I look crazed, but I guess that suits my current state since I am going a little crazy. But then I shake my head firmly. Bruce and I always use protection, so I can’t be pregnant. That is, except for those times when it was so hot between us that we go without. But he pulls out! Or at least he tries to, but even a drop can get a woman pregnant.
Oh god. Fear courses through my veins and I plant my hands on the sink and look at myself in the mirror. “Get it together Jemima,” I command myself. “You have to do this.”
Staring at my reflection, I inhale a few times to calm down. The extra oxygen helps a little, and I pat my curls with trembling fingers. I need to find out if this is really happening because right now all signs are pointing to me expecting Bruce’s baby. My heart blooms even as my pulse races. Can it be true?
Grabbing a hair tie, I throw my hair up out of my face, trying to keep myself busy, but it’s not working. I need someone to talk to, so I go to the living room and grab my phone. Quickly, I dial my friend Mimi. She’s a showgirl at the Wilshire, which is perfect because it’s only afternoon right now. Since her shifts are in the evenings, she should be available.