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“What?” The look on her face was a mixture of horror and intrigue.
I grimaced. That hadn’t come out right. Now I felt like a dirty whore. “Oh shit. It. . .I. . . . it was . . . ”
She placed her hand over my fidgeting fingers and squeezed. “Calm down. Tell me from the beginning.”
She frowned and nodded and waited. It wasn’t like her to be quiet. Maybe this was one of her mothering tricks.
Realizing I was not getting away without revealing everything, I told her about George Whiteman turning up at my hotel on New Year’s Eve and explained how I knew him. I described the altercation at the lobby counter with one of his mates, and how George had saved me from the sweaty lobster. My shoulders sagged as I rambled like a lunatic about going to his room.
Lolita huffed. “Good on you. . . at least having sex with George helped you past your silly rule that you don’t have sex with strangers.”
I frowned. “We didn’t have sex.”
She cocked her head. “You didn’t? But he wasn’t a stranger?”
“I know. But that somehow made it even more difficult. I started thinking about who he would tell and how everyone back home would know that I. . . that I?—”
“Hey! You didn’t do anything wrong. As long as you are two consenting adults, it’s nobody’s business who you fuck.”
Damn, she’s loud.
“Right?” She cocked her perfect eyebrow.
“I know, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have recognized me anyway.” I couldn’t stop the grin curling on my lips.
“Why?” Her eyes lit up.
“I dressed in that costume you made me buy for the staff Christmas party.”
She gasped. “The French maid disguise? You looked fucking hot in that.” Her eyes shimmered. “So, what happened?”
“I knocked on his door, but when he saw me standing there in my costume, he just looked at me like he was dreaming or something.”
“Babe, if you walked into any man’s room dressed like that, they’d think they’d died and gone to heaven.”
Our drinks and my treat arrived, and I paused until the pretty young waitress left before continuing. I forked a decent portion of cake, smothered in the cream cheese–icing into my mouth, and although it was delicious, it was hard to swallow past the lump in my throat.
A sip of coffee helped.
Lolita was quiet as she drank her green tea. Quiet was not something she did. I’d seen Lolita run, drink her water, and tell me all about one of the dance mom’s misguided outfits all at once.
I wondered if she was disgusted with me. Hell, I couldn’t decide if I was disgusted in me. I had no idea what had come over me. Was I that desperate for attention? Was I that needy?
Was sex that important?
“So, you waltzed into his room, dressed as the hottest babe in town. Then what?”
As I licked the icing off my fork, I tried to formulate a way to tell her without sounding like I’d lost my marbles. Too late for that. But I had to be honest, Lolly would know if I was lying anyway. “I told George I didn’t want to start the New Year alone. And said I hadn’t had sex in more than three years. Then I said I wanted to pleasure myself and said he could watch if he wanted.”
Lolly blinked at me for one heartbeat, then she roared with laughter. As I stared down her throat, her boobs threatened to wobble right out of her fluro pink top. Diners glanced in our direction for the briefest of moments, then turned back to whatever they were doing.
Lolita flicked away tears of laughter before they ruined her meticulous mascara, and then she reached for a napkin to dab at her cheeks. When she finally stopped, she clasped her hands together, and I was fearful she was about to clap.
“That’s bloody brilliant. Good on you, babe.”
I blinked at her. “Really?”
“Are you fucking kidding? It ticks all the boxes for you. First, you didn’t have sex.” She held up her fingers as she counted off her points. “Second, you did it with a guy you know. Third, you were in disguise, so he couldn’t recognize you. Four, I’m sure he thought all his dreams had come true. And five, I bet it was the most amazing sex you’ve ever had.”
