Page 80 of Elevator Pitch

“You, sweetheart. In my bed. Wearing an Anchors tee.” I’ve put her on speaker phone, so I can tug off my shirt and shrug out of my pants. Then, I settle on the bed. “Vee, how would you feel about me answering question number two on your list? Might help you find some writing inspiration.”

She’s quiet a second, before she softly says, “I don’t remember what question number two was.”

“You wanted to know what it’s like to touch a woman from a man’s perspective.”

Vee lightly coughs before her voice tightens, sounding professional while inquisitive. “Yes. How do you feel about the experience? Like does one vagina look like another, taste like another, or is one more memorable than others?”

I choke. “Holy shit, Vee. Just jump in with both feet.”

She clears her throat again. Through the phone, I hear the rustle of sheets and wonder if she’s settling beneath them or if she’s sitting upright and grabbing a notebook. In Arizona, she kept a flower-covered spiral one on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Okay. So tell me—”

“I’d really like a visual aid for this one.”

“No.” Her tone is so adamant, I don’t press.

But even if I’m not a writer, my imagination is good enough that I can picture her. Legs spread, pussy pretty, pink and swollen, wet and ready for me. I’d had a similar vision in my head when I stood in her shower back in Arizona. When I was fisting myself, preparing to release the pressure. Kissing Vee led to a buildup that ached, and to steady myself before I saw her each of those nights that we kissed like hungry teens, I took care of myself to ease the ache before I saw her. Still, she’d made me rock hard with only her mouth on mine and we’d often break apart breathless and greedy, needing a break before we could settle into her bed. That night, thanks to Valdez, I’d been late and needed that shower before my mouth hit Vee’s, knowing I’d be hungry for more. I was surprised I’d heard her soft gasp over the roar of the shower.

Then again, I’m grateful I did because what a night we had.

With my hand flat on my belly, my dick twitches, eager for me to touch myself again. The reality of Vee is fresh in my head. But I’m not following through with any plan unless I get Vee on board.

“Okay. First, touching. For me, I like knowing that I’m giving you pleasure. That pressure point might be a trigger on you, but it makes me feel powerful as well. My fingers touching you there will be what gets you off. My tongue on your clit will tip you over.”

“I . . .” More throat clearing. “We aren’t talking about me directly. This is for research.”

Ignoring her restriction, I continue. “Just touching that delicate skin. Edging around those folds, teasing you, flirting with entering you.”

“Ross.” Her voice strains around my name .

“Then, there’s that tight nub, knowing it’s the switch. But it’s not just touching your clit. It’s watching you light up. Your eyes brighten. Your lips part. The way your hips want to move, chasing my touch.” I hum.

Vee moans.

“Your scent. Sexy. Musky.” I inhale deeply, like I can catch a whiff of her from my memory.

“I like feeling how wet you get, almost greedy for me. Your slit slick. Your pussy eager.”

“Ross.” The struggle in her voice affects me. I want to feel her.

“My finger slipping through those slippery lips, dipping into you.”

Her breath hitches.

“Then there’s the sounds you make. Like that one. Where your breath catches. Or you hum.”

She recreates the sound for me and my dick jolts.

“You touchin’ yourself, Vee?” My voice is tight, but low. I prepare for her to protest, to tell me no again, but I cut her off before she can answer. “I want you to touch yourself, sweetheart. Do it for me because I miss touching you.”

“Oh, Ross.” She purrs again in that sound she makes. Her voice is breathy when she says, “It only happened once.”

“Twice.” I recall our night together. The rush of finding her watching me from outside the shower. The thrill of kissing her. Then touching her. Tasting her. We came together two times that night. “And it wasn’t enough.”

I slide my hand lower. “Now tell me what you feel.”

“I’m everything you said.” She whimpers. “Wet. Greedy. Slick.”