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)
“You say that all the time, and you’re the first one to clap when it snows,” she points out, and I shrug. When we get to restaurant, the valet opens my door, and I step out, smiling at him, then wait for Karrie to walk around the truck. We are dressed almost identical, only she’s wearing black heels with her jeans, and I’m wearing a pair of greenish booties. We walk in and are seated right away to a booth in the corner.
“I’m starved,” I say to her, looking at the menu. “I didn’t have breakfast.”
“So tell me,” Karrie says, grabbing the glass of water in front of her while she looks at me. The menu opened in her lap. “How are things?”
I don’t answer because the waiter comes over, and we order a bottle of champagne with a pitcher of orange juice. “Matthew is going to drive home,” she tells me. “Now spill.”
“There is nothing to spill,” I tell her. “We bang.” It suddenly tastes weird.
“You bang?” she repeats, leaning in, and then stops talking when the waiter comes back and pours our drinks. “To banging.” She mocks me, and I click her glass. “So that is all you do? Just bang?”
“Well, we eat, too,” I tell her. “God, I’m not a savage, Karrie.”
“Does he cook for you?” she asks, grabbing a piece of bread and eating a piece.
“Mostly,” I tell her, then look down at my menu. “I cooked once.”
“Hold on a second,” Karrie says, closing her menu and putting it I don’t even know where. “You cooked for him?”
“I didn’t really cook for him.” I grab my drink and finish it, then pour myself another. “I cooked for myself, and he called, so he came over.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, looking around. “You cooked for him and had him come to your house?”
“I was cooking there, so yeah.” I take another drink, ignoring the hammering in my chest.
“The same place you call sacred and never have anyone over in,” she says, looking at me. “The same place you said would never be tarnished by any dicks.” She hits the table, laughing. “This is too good. Did you”—she looks at me, and my eyebrows pinch together—“you know?”
“If you’re talking about sex, yes, I had sex with him before and after,” I tell her and then pretend I’m reading the menu, but I can’t concentrate on anything.
“When was the last time you saw him?” she asks me, and I know full well that she’s waiting to laugh.
“This morning,” I tell her, and she laughs. “Karrie, I go over and visit the fish, okay?”
“The fish?” She puts her hand in front of her face. “The same fish you were going to give to the fire station?”
“Well, I didn’t, and I go visit her,” I tell her, and it sounds ridiculous even to me.
“How many visitations have you had?” she asks me, and I finish another glass and pour myself another one.
“Daily,” I tell her, and she gasps out in shock.
“We are just, you know,” I say, motioning with my hands. “Banging.”
“Holy shit,” she says. “You like him.”
“Don’t be absurd. Of course, I like him. I wouldn’t be going to pound town five times a day if I didn’t like him. I for sure like his cock,” I say, motioning with my hands.
We order our food, and I change the subject to her, and just like that, we’ve finished two bottles of champagne, and it’s almost four o’clock. “Is that ringing?” she asks, looking around.
“Did you put in a plug and forget about it?” I ask her, and she gasps out loud. I lift my hand to get the waiter’s attention.
“Can we have cake?” I ask him, and he looks just a tiny bit annoyed. “Chocolate.”
Then I look at Karrie as she answers the phone. “Hello, lover.” She then laughs at herself. “I’m having lunch.” She winks at me as she listens. “At the restaurant. Where else would we have lunch, Matthew?” She rolls her eyes. When the guy puts the plate of chocolate cake down, she grabs a fork and puts it in her mouth and moans. “Cake,” she says and spits out just a bit.
I take my own piece. “This is so good.”
“Are you coming to get me?” she asks him. “Okay, fine.” She hangs up. “Matthew is coming to get me, and he said to tone it down and something about something, and I don’t know what else.”
“You know what you should do,” I say, pointing the fork at her. “You need to go home and do anal. It’s the perfect time,” I say, grabbing another piece of cake. “You’re relaxed and drunk. Spend the hour in the car telling him all the dirty things you want to do with him.”
I’m about to say something else when I look over and see Matthew coming into the restaurant, but I’m not looking at him. I’m looking at Mark who follows him. “Oh, shit,” Karrie says when her eyes follow mine. “Do I look okay?”