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Giselle shuddered as the pinprick of pleasure grew stronger and stronger. She was on the very edge of climax, picturing the powerful hand of a stranger stroking her to ecstasy.
Just as she was about to come, there was a loud ringing noise. The fantasy instantly dispelled and her eyes flew open. With a sigh, she reached to dry her hand on a towel and grabbed her phone, hastily answering the call.
“Hey, Jimmy.” She yawned.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Jimmy said.
“Not yet. But I might fall asleep before the end of this conversation, so what’s up?”
“You’re gonna need your sleep, because we’re going to Hot House tomorrow,” he began.
“Oh good. I can sleep during the meeting,” she joked.
Blowing past her sarcasm, Jimmy went on, “Bruce wants to discuss the creative direction of our new album.”
Giselle raised an eyebrow. “Direction? It’s our third album. We know the way.”
“He sounded serious, Giselle.”
“Relax, okay? Bruce is all bark, no bite. He just wants to check our homework like always. And we’ll pass, like always,” she assured him. “We’re a killer band, Jimmy.”
“I hope Bruce feels that way.”
“Bruce knows we have a winning formula. No reason to mess with perfection,” she quipped, idly popping bubbles in the bathwater.
“So you’ll be there? Nine o’clock at Hot House?” Jimmy pressed.
“Nine? Freakin’ early birds,” she muttered. “Yeah. I’ll see you there.”
“Okay, good. I’m gonna call Matt, pass on the info,” he said.
“G’night, J. See you tomorrow,” she said, and hung up.
For a moment, she considered doing the responsible thing: getting out of the bath, drying off, going straight to bed. Instead, she decided to top off with more hot water, more bubbles, and a little longer visit to the mysterious world of her fantasies. She sank down under the soapy bubbles and let her mind wander to the darkest, most delicious desires her mind could conjure.
She could always be a good girl tomorrow.
Tonight, she wanted to be bad.
