“They open in over an hour.”
“Out,” I repeated through gritted teeth.
He didn’t get my annoyance. Probably seemed like any other day to Reed. I didn’t like being interrupted pre-market opening, and he liked to jerk my chain. He rarely succeeded in getting me flustered. I loosened my tie and paced the room. Located my stress ball behind the monitor and bounced it against the wall. I hated I shared her account with him. That truth annoyed me because regret wasn’t an emotion I liked to harbor.
Last night, lying back on my sofa, I’d scrolled through her feed. Held the phone up in the air one-handed while I coaxed myself, jerking off to the hint of nipple in the photo. I’d been surprised she didn’t have nudes in her premium feed. But she was still hot as fuck. And I had to go and share her with Reed.
I threw my stretch ball back and forth against the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud.
A slight rap on the door broke the repetition, and my assistant entered.
“All okay?”
“Yep.”
“Here’s the analyst report you asked for.” She placed a thick folder on my desk. “Have a good weekend?”
I nodded, and she backed out to answer a ringing phone. I lost myself in market analysis. Once the bells rang, I didn’t give Reed another thought. Nothing out there could top the rush of a morning playing the trades.
I wrapped up with significant gains thanks to some shorts I made that worked out just right. I checked the calendar and smiled. No business lunch today. As if sensing my day had turned around, Reed tapped my doorframe again. Only this time my ex trailed him.
“Caroline? Did we have an appointment?”
“Oh, my god, Gabe. Why are you so formal? No, we didn’t have anything scheduled. But I have lunch with my dad and thought I’d swing by and say hello. See if maybe you wanted to join us.”
Caroline’s dad worked for Silverman Katz. I’d spent most of business school gunning for Silverman, but then Belman came in with an offer I couldn’t refuse. Just as well. I broke up with Caroline after a year or two at Belman, and had that happened if I worked for her dad, well, it would have been awkward.
“No, thanks.” The thought of a stuffy lunch with Caroline and her dad, a lunch that would no doubt be the equivalent of an informal interview, because that was how the man framed everything, deserved a hell-to-the-no.
Caroline’s coy smile as she approached my desk unsettled me. She trailed her long, manicured nails along the back of my visitor chair, and I waited.
“Reed tells me you had an interesting weekend.” And there it is.
I shot him an icy glare. He thrust his hands in the air and chuckled. “What? You met a celeb.”
“She sounds lovely. In a southern kind of way.”
They both heehawed at their little joke. With a shake of my head, I lifted my phone off the charging dock and squeezed past them. Let the little shits have their fun.
In front of the elevator bank, I repeatedly pressed the down arrow as Caroline’s voice trailed through the hall. “I hope you got your money’s worth.”
“Shut it,” I snapped. The last thing I needed was unsavory interpretations floating around the office.
“Oh, come on, now. Don’t get testy.” She sidled up to me, full of glee. The elevator door dinged. Rather than end up trapped with Caroline and Reed and relentless innuendos, I spun around, passed the elevator bank, and slung the stairwell door open. Sixty-two floors. With each step down, I cursed Reed. Which didn’t make any sense at all, because we’d shared photos before via text. It was just a guy thing. But his leering, making her a joke—it felt wrong. She wasn’t just a chick from a party. By the time I reached the ground floor, I’d resolved to never speak of her again to Reed. The guy was basically ADHD. By tomorrow, he’d be on to a different shiny object.
Chapter 4
Poppy
How much for an orgy?
I stared at the message, debating how to respond. It wasn’t that odd requests were foreign, but I’d just reviewed my financials, and month after month I had suffered a decline in subscribers. Actually, for the last twelve months I’d been on a steady decline. I needed to up my Insta game and make more efforts at cross promotion. Competition intensified every single month. Or maybe I’d simply lost my schizle. Too many people caught on that I’d never show it all.
I’d never in a million years take money for a sex act. It wasn’t my bag, not to mention it wasn’t even legal, but how to respond so I didn’t lose another subscriber? I opened a file of my sexiest shots and scrolled through, seeking something special. A tempting, flirty treat…maybe the hint of an areola. I also had a few shots with a dildo in my cleavage. Leave it to an orgy request to make a girl truly appreciate the odd foot fetish. So much easier to snap a shot of one’s foot, earn a tip, and maintain a sub.
I chose a more innocent shot so he wouldn’t be insulted I declined his invitation. The shots of the purple dildo in my cleavage turned my stomach. That happened to me a lot, actually. What I’d thought was creative inspiration and super sexy would flip the very next day and strike me as mortifying and in super poor taste.
I jammed through several flirty emails, many from men and a few ladies who were more or less loving having a non-judgmental friend. Or maybe they really did like my make-up tip videos.
I laughed out loud at a message from JARED1598.
Blue—had the worst day. Found out the woman who gave the best head of my life is a transvestite.
I typed back a quick…
She knows her way around the equipment. Are you really that surprised?
Some days I swore I missed my
