Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Where are you?” I ask her.
“I was in bed, but Matthew is crashed out, so I left the bedroom. Why?” she asks, and I take a deep breath in and then exhale.
“I need to tell you something, but I need you to swear to secrecy,” I tell her. “Almost like I did when you told me about that time you had sex in the arena.”
She hisses, “You were not supposed to ever bring that up.”
“Do you promise?”
“Do I have a choice?” she asks, and her voice is getting a touch louder so I know she’s probably downstairs in the kitchen.
“I just had dinner with Mark,” I say the words out loud, and then I wait.
“Which Mark?” she asks.
“Dimitris,” I say softly and hear a whistle. “PM, which, by the way, does not stand for private masturbation,” I say, and I hear her spitting something out and then coughing. “What is wrong with everyone?”
“Oh my God,” she says between heaving and coughing. “I just sprayed water all over my kitchen. I can’t,” she says. The cab comes to a stop, and I swipe my card in the machine and then get out. The doorman nods at me and opens the door for me. “I know that it stands for Private Mark.”
“Really,” I say, smiling at the security guard. “How do you know that?”
“My husband is a retired hockey player. You don’t think I watch seven hours of SportsCenter when he’s home. I pick up some things,” she says. “Wait a second, didn’t you guys have a thing two years ago?”
“Negative,” I say into the phone, getting into the elevator. “I mean, he told me to call him, but I never did.”
“And you called him today?” she asks me, confused. I get out of the elevator and walk into my house. Not turning on any lights, I make my way to my bedroom.
“No, I ran into him literally while I was walking down Lexington,” I tell her. “And he took me to dinner.”
“So why do I have to keep it a secret?” she asks me.
“He kissed me,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says. “You’ve kissed other men.”
“Yes, but this one was different. My stomach did a thing.” I put my hand to my stomach, and just thinking about the kiss makes the same thing happen again. “Little flutters.”
“Oh my God,” she says.
“I think I caught something from the kids. I’m going to check my temperature right now,” I say as I go into the bathroom and get the thermometer. “Maybe I caught the bug.”
“Yeah, the love bug,” she says, laughing, and I roll my eyes.
“Can you be serious for a minute? I might be dying. Maybe I have a tumor,” I say.
“You don’t have a tumor nor are you sick. You felt like that because you like him,” she points out. “I felt the same thing with Matthew.”
“Karrie. Please, can we focus for one minute? I have to google what sicknesses are going around New York. Maybe it’s an epidemic.” I put her on speaker and open my internet browser.
“There is nothing wrong with you. You kissed a man, and you like him; it feels different when you like someone. It’s not just a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.”
“Jesus, I hope I never meet a man who is wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,” I say, holding my chest now. “Imagine a one-time man. What do you do with that?”
“You make the one time last longer.” Karrie laughs. “You know Mark. You flirted with him, and you find him hot.”
“Well, his cock is huge,” I tell her and then want to take it back when she gasps.
“How would you know this if you just kissed him?” she asks me.
“Well, I was kissing him, and obviously, I’m great at it, so he sprung to action,” I tell her. “Full mast and it was hard as fuck,” I tell her. “Mon Dieu,” My God, I say. “You think he’s a one-time man? He can’t be.”
“I have no idea. I don’t know anyone who’s slept with him,” she says, and the thought of him with other women bothers me. I mean, who am I to say anything? I am not a virgin nor do I plan to slow down. I’m just in a rut, is all.
“There is always that website that ranks the hockey guys. You know those puck bunnies love to vote on shit,” Karrie says. “I can’t check because I don’t ever go on there. It’s the devil’s playground.” By the time she finishes talking, I’m already on the site.
“There is nothing for him,” I tell her. “I see Max’s name but …”
“Ohh, how is he rated?” she asks me, and I laugh.
“Takes his time and makes sure you finish first.” I repeat what someone wrote. “It was from ten years ago. People change,” I tell her, and she laughs. “I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”