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Iris: Not in the evening.
Walker: I get off work at four. Come to my place. At six. I'll fuck you senseless. And I'll… it's a surprise.
Iris: I don't have your address.
He sends it.
Walker: Just do me one favor, Iris.
Iris: Yeah?
Walker: Skip the panties.
Chapter Nine
Iris
Friday, I wear my best casual but sexy, I totally get that we're friends
with benefits dress.
At least, I think this black skater dress says I'm fun, and also hot, and I'm not going to put strings on you, and you better not put strings on me.
It's a lot to ask from a dress. I admit that.
I wait until I'm parked in front of Walker's building to slide my panties to my feet.
I press my knees together. Following his dirty demand makes me hot.
I guess, when it's Walker, I don't mind being bossed around. At least not like this.
I slide my panties into my purse, step out of my car, click the electronic lock. We're in that northern part of Santa Monica. Close to the beach but far enough away from the action of Third Street Promenade that there's parking.
This is such a normal apartment building.
But it feels like I'm stepping into some other universe. One where I demand what I want. Where I know what I want. Where I get what I want.
I cross the street, move to Walker's apartment, knock lightly.
Footsteps move toward the door. "Hey."
"Hey."
He pulls the door open. Gives me a long, slow once over. His eyes light up. With excitement. Passion. Desire. "Come in."
I step inside.
He closes the door behind me. Clicks the lock.
The living room/den/kitchen is a nice size for an apartment this close to the beach. And there's a closed bedroom door in the back corner of the room.
He motions to the kitchen. There are bags and bowls and measuring spoons laid out on the counter.
I shoot him a curious look.
"You have any idea how to bake a cake from scratch?" he asks.
I shake my head.
