Aphrodite
Venus
The Blessed Bullet and—
“Whoa.”
I hold what I’m pretty sure is known as awandin my hand. I might not have owned sex toys because I shared a room at college, then later, my parents never once knocked before stepping into my tiny above-the-garage apartment. Not to mention Mom insisted on popping in torun the vacuum across the floororhelp me out with laundrywhenever I was at work. Heaven forbid I do anything that might cause me to break out in a sweat!
She’d have a fit if she saw how sex with Whit leaves me.
No, my living arrangements were not conducive to any sex toy but my hand, meaning my fingers and I are very intimately acquainted.
Where was I? Oh, right. The massive, powered schlong weighing my arm down. The wand namedThe Pandora, I assume because of the havoc it could wreak on your box.
Placing it down on the desk, I swipe my phone out from the pocket of my swishy skirt and take a quick snap. I send it to Whit, along with a text, as my chest moves with a burbling giggle.
Are you expanding the business? VirTu banking and sex toy parties?
Party for two?
There are enough to share, but I don’t think I’ll mention that, not on the back of our tentative agreement.Just be with me. I promise I won’t fall in love with you.
Is it too early or too late for this heart pang of regret?
He won’t fall for me, which was the point of my fake dating schtick. Maybe not the whole point, but it’s too late to try to protect myself. If I’m honest with myself, which, as a rule, I try to be, I was already fooling myself Sunday morning when I told him of my stupid plans.
But what’s done is done, and I’ve proven to myself this year that I’m a lot stronger than I look. I was strong enough to come here, to stand in the face of my parents' fear and disappointment. I was strong enough to fight for Whit. When the time comes, I know I’ll be strong enough to walk away. My heart might break, but at that point, what difference will it make?
I forcibly push away the thoughts (compartmentalizing is my jam) as my phone vibrates.It’s in good company, I think with a snicker.
I pull it from the pocket of my shirt dress sparing a glance at all the vibratory things. Plus lube and cleaning wipes and… I’m momentarily distracted by a black satin mask.
I hope you’re not trying to find a polite way of telling me you play well with others…
What? Oh, sex toy parties. Or maybe plain old sex parties would be more Whit’s lane.
I was thinking that maybe you sent me these as some kind of trail incentive. Sort of: sign up to the VirTu banking app and we’ll make sure your banking goes with a bang!
Each one of those toys is an incentive itself, chosen to give you pleasure. Solo or otherwise.
My poor heart, my poor panties, I think as I use my index finger to straighten the tiniest of the toys as a fragment of memory flickers in my head.A little bullet for you to press to your clit when you think of me.
Also, maybe I should move you to the marketing department.
Would it be a promotion?
My phone vibrates with a call in my hand.
“You’re going nowhere.” His voice takes on a husky edge. “Unless you count riding my cock as some kind of promotion.”
“It sure is an incentive.” I find myself matching his tone.
“Bad timing,” he utters unhappily. “I was hoping to be there when your new toy box arrived.”
“Oh no.” My answer is wavery with amusement when it should be full of warning. “Between office hours, ours is a professional relationship.” Whit begins to grumble, but I just talk over him. “It’s no good complaining, these are your rules.”
“Rules are made to be broken.”
