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Actually, it’s you, too. For being my mental clone. I already have sex with myself. It’s called masturbation.
Silence engulfed us.
With nothing more to discuss, I stood, brushing away wrinkles on my trousers. Eileen mirrored me, rising to her full height.
I imagined I’d one day resent the way she wore her lips—pursed in the shape of an asshole—because her expression was eternally sour.
I saved the contract draft on my app, eager to escort her off the premises. “I’ll have my people contact yours for further negotiations and instructions.”
“I don’t have anypeople.” She air-quoted the word with her fingers. “But yours can reach me on my cell. How about we shake on it?”
And then, without an ounce of consideration for how nauseating her touch was, she forced her hand into mine and gave it a firm, wet,hotsqueeze.
Immediately, acid churned in my stomach.
I stood frozen fora moment, stunned and appalled, my gaze pinned hard on the spot where our flesh connected.
My arm had gone slack, my hand limp in hers.
I hated how pathetic I looked.
How pathetic Ifelt.
My mouth hooked into the shape of a scream, but nothing came out.
Let go of me.
Stop touching me.
Just fucking leave.
Bile traveled up my throat.
I swallowed it down, everything rigid except the arm she’d taken.
The contract. The marriage. The promise. I wanted to forget them all. To wash away my entire encounter with this inconsiderate imbecile.
But Dad.
Dad, Dad, Dad.
All my effort concentrated on waiting for Eileen to withdraw her hand first instead of jerking it away.
When she finally did, I nearly keeled over with nausea. The whole thing lasted less than two seconds but felt like an entire day.
Eileen pressed her thumb onto a cluster of mooncake crumbs she’d spilled on her dress, sprinkling them into her unfinished teacup without a care in the world.
Then, she reached into her wallet and fished out a business card from its depths, pressing it into my hand again.
More touching.
Great.
“Call me.”
“Argh.” My throat clogged up with a scream. I could not produce actual words. “Leave.”
Not exactly polite but the most I could manage.
