“Please, you wouldn’t be the first woman to conjure a mental image of Staci rockin’ a baby-doll nightie to go with those stilettos, smacking a riding crop against her palm, and wearing a confident, devilish grin.” Lola wagged her brows. “Sort of a female Christian Grey, you know? Turning the tables.”
The concept was exactly what she’d pitched to Marketing. A powerful, successful woman taking charge in the boardroom—and in the bedroom. All while showing off ultra-sexy footwear. Todd had deemed it brilliant and timely, what with the current Fifty Shades craze.
“I so love your wicked side. Speaking of…” Maxi handed over her iPhone. She gave Lola a grave look as she said, “I beg you, do not let me drunk-text Kevin tonight. I swear, I won’t be able to stop myself from offering to be his sex slave. And then I’ll fall in love with him all over again.”
“Bad and wrong, girlfriend.” Lola shook her head for emphasis. “Serial cheater, remember? You deserve way better.”
“Yes, but—rock my world,” she said on a lusty sigh, “the man knows what he’s doing when he goes down on me.”
Lola resisted the urge to bang her forehead on the table. Last time someone had gone down on her…? Had to have been a good year ago, at least. A friend of a friend from Accounting, if she recalled correctly. And it hadn’t been all that great. In fact, she’d sensed that he’d lost his way a few times. So she’d faked an orgasm to get him to move on to fucking her. Another disappointment—no sparkage. At. All.
Yeah, depressing pretty much summed up her romantic life.
“We shouldn’t talk about sex,” Lola contended. “Otherwise, we’ll both end up going home with someone. With my luck, I’ll meet Prince Charming before I leave town. I don’t do long-distance relationships—I’m not getting laid enough as it is.”
Maxi smirked. “Silly girl. There’s no such thing as Prince Charming, but it’s sweet that you’re still so optimistic at twenty-five.”
“Not all men are Kevins.”
“Slugs?”
She groaned on Maxi’s behalf. Then said, “My best friend, Alex, is proof.” And Lola couldn’t wait to see him again.
Alex Reed had been her rock since early childhood. Sure, he was a bit on the stuffy side, what with his incessant need to alphabetize his CD collection and pick imaginary lint from his impeccably tailored suits. But still. He’d always been a stand-up guy.
She’d actually suffered separation anxiety when she’d left him behind in Arizona. Thankfully, she’d met Maxi, who had filled the friendship void almost instantly, helping to keep at bay doubts of whether or not she’d made the right decision to move.
Lola had interviewed for a Marketing job at Staci Kay’s Scottsdale office after she’d graduated from Arizona State University, but had been offered an administrative assistant position in the Baltimore Operations hub instead. She’d been so desperate to get her foot in the door—because she was a huge Staci Kay fan and because she knew she could someday make it into the Marketing department—that she’d moved herself all the way across the country.
She’d done it for the experience as much as the potential opportunity to get a leg up. Well, that and the generous employee discount on shoes.
But her heart was in Scottsdale, and Lola was more than ready to return.
The server delivered a chiller with the Taittinger—the brand Lola’s mother always ordered for special occasions—and poured two glasses.
Lola and Maxi clinked rims and sipped.
“Ah,” Lola said blissfully. “That’s nice.”
“Congrats again,” Maxi told her. “But…Debbie Downer moment.” She set aside her crystal flute, the corners of her mouth dipping. “Your promotion means no more nights like this.”
A twinge of regret ensued. “Crap. Here I am all beside myself with excitement and I haven’t even considered how drastically my life is going to change again. I am seriously going to miss you.”
“Right back at ya.” Maxi let out a long breath, then lifted her chin and said, “But hey, we can visit each other. And I’ll text you an eyeball-roll emoticon every time Glen in Human Resources violates the sexual harassment policy by staring blatantly at my boobs—while licking his lips—so that we can be grossed out together.”
“Creep.”
“Creep-y.” Maxi shuddered. “He’s a total lech.”
“He’d make a great poster child for condoms.”
“Here, here.” They touched the rims of their glasses again.
“Anyway,” Lola said as she shimmied in her chair, her excitement returning. “You and I will always be friends, so don’t worry about that. And when the mood strikes you to offer hot monkey sex to the ex, call me immediately so I can talk you out of it.”
Maxi laughed. “I will. And who knows, maybe you’ll finally meet Mr. Right in Scottsdale.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”