Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

Pick you up at 7:00 p.m.

Spence

xo

I feel myself blush and I close the email. He’s just so naughty.

* * *

Two hours later, I’m sitting at my desk staring out the window. Spencer’s pep-talk the other night about deciding to do something, and then going forward and doing it, is playing on my mind.

Perhaps he’s right.

What is holding me back from turning my business dream into a reality?

I mean, I have the money, I have the qualifications, and I definitely know more about the charity sector than most people do. It could be a really great service that could help so many charities.

I just don’t know where to start. How would I even go about it?

Would I get an office here in London and just work by myself for a while until I got established? Or would I go for it straight away and employ a few people so we could hit the ground running? I tap my pen on my chin as I think.

I don’t want to fail.

“I’m so horny.” Sarah sighs beside me. “I think my vagina’s closing up.”

I smile and click open my emails as I listen to her. “I don’t think it has the ability to close up… does it?”

“Did you know that you can lift weights with your Kegel?”

“Huh?” I frown. “Isn’t a Kegel what the actual exercise is called… not your…?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, with your vagina or whatever. But, yeah, it’s true. Nutjobs tie stuff to a weight that they put in their snatch, and they lift then squat and stuff. I saw a chick on Facebook who was carrying a surfboard down the beach once.”

“What?” I gasp.

She giggles. “Imagine that, you ask some guy to meet you down the beach and you rock up with a surfboard hanging out of your pussy.” She widens her eyes as if making a great epiphany. “I should put this on my Tinder profile.” She holds her hands up. “I can carry your surfboard with no hands.”

I laugh out loud. “Honestly, Sarah, what next?”

She laughs, and then falls serious. “I think I’m going to look for another job.”

“You are?” I frown. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe be a receptionist or something. Anything other than spending my days in this shit mailroom.”

“That sounds fantastic.” I smile. “You’d be great at that.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so.”

“But, what would you do if I left? I can’t leave you in this shithole by yourself with Paul. He does nothing.”

I sigh. I have to tell her one day, so I may as well tell her now. “Can I tell you a secret?” “What?”

“But promise you won’t get mad with me.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if I’ll get mad. Did you give someone upstairs a blowie?”