Knockout (Tapped Out 4)

I didn’t have a huge collection of lingerie, but I did have a few nice pieces. Tonight’s pair was a thong and a demi cup bra that pushed up the girls nice and high. Too high, because I kept pulling up the V-neck of my sweater in case my dad noticed I was wearing clingier clothes than usual.

Guilty? Me? No. Okay, maybe a little. What I’d done last Saturday night was the craziest thing I’d ever done. And I was going to do it again. I hoped.

Oh, how I hoped.

This past week with the guys had been surprisingly normal. Emerson had been scarcer than usual, though he’d offered to give me rides when he saw me at work and always seemed to be his usual solicitous self. He’d just been quiet. JC, on the other hand, hadn’t shut up. He’d invited us both out for lunch a couple of times, breaking from work on the gym with his crew, and he’d filled in all the gaps in the conversation with his insane stories. Even Emerson had laughed a few times.

None of us had brought up the threesome. Neither of them had tried to kiss me or feel me up or any of the things I might’ve assumed went on after being totally naked and wanton with two super-hot guys. Then again, what did I know?

I intended to take the initiative tonight if they didn’t. JC had suggested we come over and watch a movie and hang out, which I hoped was a euphemism for “screw like bunnies”. If it wasn’t, I was through being a shrinking Lily. Assuming I didn’t chicken out.

“Where are you and Emerson off to tonight?”

Dad’s deep rumble as he popped the top on his beer startled me. “Um, our friend JC’s house. He’s the one Emerson and I went to see last weekend.”

“You’re seeing an awful lot of that young man.”

Do not blush. Oh, if he only knew. “Sure am,” I said cheerfully as the door buzzer went off. “That must be him.”

In truth, I doubted it. He usually texted me when he arrived, especially if he was hoping to avoid talking to my father. In the old days, he’d always made sure to stop by to talk to him, but lately, he’d been more distant for some reason. And call me crazy, but I doubted he’d be hurrying upstairs for a chat tonight.

“You tell him to come on up here. I haven’t seen him in far too long.”

I nodded and didn’t reply as I hurried across the room. Oh, he’d just love that.

Hitting the intercom, I leaned close to whisper into the speaker. “Em, is that you?”

?

?Em? Who’s Em?” The female voice that replied definitely didn’t belong to my best friend. “Oh, you must mean Emerson. Hello, hottie. Lucky you, getting to spend all your free time with him.”

I frowned. The voice was disturbingly perky and familiar. “Jenna?”

“One and the same. I’ve brought reinforcements. Car, say hi.”

“Hello, sexy. Hope it’s okay we showed up without calling. I had a rare night free from nursery rearranging and we wanted to get freaky.” Carly’s sigh gusted into the speaker. “Or you know, eat shrimp by the pound at Red Lobster.”

I had to laugh. Jenna Walsh was the other part-time receptionist at The Cage, and we’d gotten to be friends during the last few months. Carly Anderson Costas was her best friend, and the wife of Giovanni, the most bad-ass fighter who trained at the gym. Carly was slightly younger than I was and married and pregnant with her first kid, which blew my mind. I had enough trouble trying to remember to maintain my ancient Honda, forget taking care of another human being. Carly seemed pretty chill about the whole thing, though.

I liked both of them a lot and really appreciated them inviting me into their circle, since I’d never had many female friends. Somehow I’d just always gravitated to guys, but Jen and Car were a ton of fun. Any other Saturday night, I’d be thrilled to get an invite to hang out with them.

Just not when I was hoping to get banged into next Sunday.

“Aw, dammit, I’m so sorry, but I’m waiting for Emerson to pick me up to visit another of our friends. He just got a new apartment. You know, housewarming type deal.”

How many times could I use that excuse? Until I got caught, probably.

“Dang.” Jenna again. “Oh, well, we knew it was a long shot. What about next Friday night? We’re doing a double-date type thing, visiting a club in the city, Purgatory, while Car can still shake her groove thang,” Jenna teased. “You have someone you can bring?”

I bit my lip. I had two someones. Did that count? “Sure. I’ll find a date,” I said, wondering if I was just setting myself up to be a third wheel.

Emerson had a fight Friday night, as he often did, but maybe afterward, he’d be up for swinging by the club. JC too. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? I was officially done with the chickenshit stuff, so I wasn’t going to just assume the worst.

I’d ask them—then assume it while I waited for them to answer.

“Awesome,” Jenna said. “You working Monday?”

We chatted about schedules and stuff for another moment or two, then I apologized profusely for sending them away just as Emerson texted me.