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I don’t wait for another opportunity to end the call and escape. This one is as good as it’s going to get.
I hit the end button, and both of their big heads give way to blackness on the screen. The breath of relief that leaves my lungs is immediate.
Thank fuck.
Before I can let their disturbingly perceptive words sink in, I glance at the clock and see my time is up. I need to head into the conference room for the meeting with the finance team.
I head out of my office, and after a quick pit stop in the break room, I step into the conference room a few minutes later with a much-needed coffee in my hands.
“Good morning, everyone,” I greet all eleven people sitting around the table. “Thanks for spending your Saturday trying to fix this issue. I appreciate the dedication.”
“No problem, Mr. Ives.” Emily nods. “Shall we get started?”
I gesture toward her and take a seat at the head of the table. “By all means, the sooner we get through this, the sooner all of you can get back to your families and actually enjoy your weekend.”
Get back to your families. I don’t know why those words make my chest ache, but I swallow it down and choose to revisit that a different time. It’s more than apparent that my idiot friends have truly fucked with my head.
Thankfully, Emily dives right in, pulling up our current accounting numbers on her laptop and projecting them onto the big screen at the foot of the table. “Okay, so, initially, I wasn’t sure where we went wrong. But, good news, after scouring the numbers for the past few hours, I think I’ve figured out the issue. If you all just give me about fifteen minutes to explain what I’ve found, I think we can get this sorted out quickly.”
“Fantastic,” I say, and she offers a grateful smile.
I’m not sure if she expected me to be on a tirade over the discrepancy, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Emily Willow over the past three years, it’s that she is thorough as fuck, and if there’s an issue, her numbers-oriented brain and eagle eyes will locate it.
I have nothing but admiration and respect for her as an employee.
She continues to lead the meeting, showing the final numbers from last quarter and comparing them with the projected numbers of this quarter.
So far, so good. What she shows makes sense.
And, it’s apparent by the nodding heads and reassuring comments, the rest of the table agrees.
Just as she directs a few questions toward her colleague Mark Wallace, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I take a sip from my cup and discreetly pull my phone out to check my messages.
Maybe: I think I want to try DP.
I nearly choke on my coffee.
What in the hell?
In the middle of an important meeting or not, I think my brain will explode if I don’t respond.
Me: Uh…no, you don’t.
And, in true Maybe fashion, she doesn’t hesitate to keep this insane conversation going.
Maybe: I’ve been told it’s the most intense sexual experience a girl can have. Why wouldn’t I want to try it?
Holy hell. Where is this coming from?
Me: You’ve been told? Where are you getting this advice, exactly?
Maybe: I heard two girls talking about it at Starbucks.
I bite my lip to prevent my laughter.
Cap’s crazy sister Lena, I could understand. But Starbucks? Of all the fucking places.
Me: You heard people talking about DP and decided that’s the next step for you, all while you were ordering coffee?
Maybe: Yes.
Me: You were at Starbucks, just picking up a cup a joe to start your day, and you decided right then, DP is the next thing you want to do?
Maybe: Yes! Why do you keep asking me things I’ve already told you?
I bite my lip and type again.
Me: Maybe, do you have any idea what DP is?
Maybe: Uh…an intense sexual experience. Duh.
I grin. Jesus, why is she so adorable?
Me: Let me rephrase. Do you know what DP stands for?
Maybe: Double Pleasure.
A laugh escapes my throat, and everyone sitting at the conference table turns their eyes toward me.
“Sorry,” I mutter and nod toward Emily. “Please, continue.”
She gets back to the meeting, and I discreetly type out another text message to Maybe.
Me: Double Penetration.
Maybe: Huh?
Me: That’s what DP stands for. Double Penetration.
Maybe: I don’t get it.
Me: In most cases, it requires three people, two of whom have dicks.
When she doesn’t respond, I keep going.
Me: Two men.
Me: One woman.
Me: Two cocks.
It’s not until that final text that she chimes back into the conversation.
Maybe: IT’S THAT???
Me: Yes, it’s that.
Maybe: Oh my God. I thought it was like two orgasms or something! I’ve never been penetrated by one penis, much less two at the same time! Gah!
Me: Sounds like you’re changing your tune on DP…
Maybe: Have you ever done it?
