I sigh, refilling both Bea’s and my own glass while munching a strawberry over a sip of whiskey.
“Is it my fault that I know what I want?”
“Yes,” Bea answers, looking at me very seriously in the face.
I start giggling at her sage expression, and she giggles, too; but it’s actually not funny. My few short-term boyfriends could not cope with me, and that’s an understatement.
After initially chasing me, they found my breathy demands far too…masculine, apparently. Or perhaps a woman who knows how to get wet and wants to tell her man how to best use his equipment is always seen as a threat to the fragile male ego.
It’s not something I care about anymore.
“Alright, look,” Bea starts as she places her glass on the table and pulls her phone out. “Let’s just have a browse, shall we?”
“Let me guess…you found a shopping website for occupied businesswomen like myself.”
“Yes, actually!” Bea cackles like Grandma. She lumbers around the table and throws an arm around me, pulling me close so we can both look at the tiny screen.
She knows my troubles, of course. Many drunken, chocolate-fueled nights were spent talking about my exes and their failures.
I can’t see the screen, it’s too blurry. I shove my whiskey-soaked sister aside and pull the laptop over.
“Put it in there so I can see.”
“If that’s how you talk to men, I can see the issue.”
“What!?” I exclaim, pounding the lounge with a fist and spilling my whiskey again. “I’m not going to lay quietly and demurely on the mattress and giggle politely as he gets over his fucking Madonna complex! So I know how I want to be fucked. Is that a crime?”
Bea doesn’t answer. She just positions the screen a little closer for me.
“Just check out the man candy, babe, then tell me you don’t want it.”
I sit up, sipping the whiskey again. There are some nice men. Very nice.
I allow myself to engage in the giggling with Bea, letting her lift my mood, thinking about all the good things about having a man. But, still.
To get those good things—if he even had them—you have to make time. Time I so do not have.
It’s a simple matter of weighing potential gain against loss. And, I know exactly what I get back if I put in the time and effort into my career. Love is a risky business, and I don’t take risks like those.
We leave the laptop open as Bea gets up and heads for the door.
“Got training again first thing in the morning.” She sighs. “Now remember, this is a secure building, but you never know—”
“Bea.”
“Yeah?”
“Get out.” I grin. She pulls me over for a quick hug and heads out.
I wander back in, slowly closing the door and moving through my big empty rooms. There’s something sensual about knowing you’re alone, in silence and in luxury. There’s absolutely nothing to hide.
I head into my bedroom, slip off my clothes, and toss them at the end of the bed. I pull out my gorgeous new nightie, glowing pink with lace scrolled across the top. The fabric’s luxurious as I draw it over my skin.
The walk back to the lounge is more than sensual. It isn’t just the air stroking me—it’s the delicious soft, shiny fabric, too.
Something stirs deep inside me.
I make a point of sliding against the lounge as I sit down in front of the laptop again, reaching for the champagne. I take a sip, picking up a dark strawberry.