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But she wanted to be pushed. She wanted to be wanted so badly that her lover—or lovers plural, though she’d never considered multiples before—was driven to the edge of sani
ty. Did that make her depraved? Or maybe she was just lonely and desperate for something that reminded her of all the living she had left to do and not the death in her past.
The entire weekend she shuffled around her apartment. Her mother seemed to be feeling better, and her spirits had improved too. But Wendy’s mood had been fucked as surely as her—
“Say it, wuss.” She faced the bathroom mirror at work on Monday morning, long before anyone else arrived. She’d shown up early to have it out with Des. He hadn’t called her, hadn’t texted. It wasn’t as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend now, but they had to be something. She’d given him a blowjob.
Then again, so had Cole and they weren’t dating.
Oh God, were they? Was that why Des had never made a move on her? She’d chalked it up to professional ethics or maybe even disinterest. But perhaps he and Cole were a couple, though she’d never gotten that vibe from them.
She screwed up her face and shut her eyes. “Pussy. Pussy. Pussy!” The words burst out of her just as the door swung open. “Aw, hell,” she muttered, a flush creeping up her cheeks.
Great timing, as always.
Van stopped dead in the doorway and blinked. “I know it’s Monday, but it ain’t bad as all that, sugar.”
Wendy sagged against the sink and covered her face with her hand. She couldn’t help grinning. “Sorry. I’m trying something new.”
“Seeing how swear words sound in that sultry accent of yours?” Van stepped up beside her and bumped hips. “I like it. Pu-u-u-sy. All those extra syllables give it more emphasis. So who’s a pussy?”
“No one. I’m just shy, and I’m tired of it.” Wendy glowered at the spotless mirror. The bathroom was always sparkling clean, as if invisible elves snuck in every night with brooms and mops. “I didn’t think I was. But I am.”
“So you’re yelling about pussies first thing Monday morning? Better to get over your shyness with some guy’s mouth on yours.” Van’s eyes gleamed as Wendy bit her lip. “So someone got some action this weekend, huh? Tell me.”
God, no. “It was nothing.”
Van looked genuinely disappointed. “Dud in the sack?”
“Of course not.” Wendy’s mind whirled. What would make this conversation end the fastest? “I think he’s gay. Maybe.” Actually she didn’t think Des or Cole was gay, since they’d both been into her. Clearly they were bisexual. But it seemed as good an excuse as any.
“Damn. Bet he was hot too.” Van patted her arm and leaned toward the mirror to touch up her flawless lipstick.
This she could answer without lying. “Oh yeah.”
“Sucks. Sorry, chica.”
“Me too.” Wendy picked up her purse and smiled at her friend. “Guess we’d better get out there.”
“Yeah, there’s tinsel fucking everywhere. I’m surprised I didn’t pick any out of my ass.” Van shook her head and led the way back to their desks.
So much for catching Des in the office alone.
For most of the day, Wendy didn’t have a chance to think. Between the seriously sinful architects who marched through for an urgent meeting with Des and Cole and a mix-up with their standard housewarming flower delivery to new homeowners, it was a Monday to end all Mondays. But at least there was hardly any time for awkwardness between her and her bosses.
Then she heard Van giggling with Cole.
Stomach sinking to her ankles, Wendy rolled her chair closer to her cubicle partition in time to hear Van mention Wen’s craptastic weekend with a guy who played for the other team. Shit.
She rolled back to her desk and pounded her forehead on her blotter. Hard.
God, she needed to leave. It was five, right? She shot up in her seat and glanced at the time. Three-flipping-thirteen.
But she hadn’t taken a lunch yet. She could sneak out for a sandwich and creep back in when—
Her phone rang and she picked it up, shutting her eyes. She didn’t bother to say hello. “Ms. Stanton, my office please. Now.” Des sounded completely cool and composed. Totally fuckable.
“Yes, sir.” She hung up and stabbed her thumbnail into her palm. Her time of reckoning had come. She’d blown and screwed her way around a firing Friday night, but now she was going to get it.
