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I chew harder on my pen. I don’t want to rain too much on Amy’s parade her first night back. I watch her unpack her carbon monoxide detector.
“I packed the darn and didn’t even plug it in once in Phuket,” Amy remarks as she puts it in the wall. “My mom gets fixated on the smallest things. She keeps reminding me to get batteries as a backup for the detector.”
My phone’s message alert pings, and I look over to see two texts from Darren:
There in ten minutes.
No underwear.
I hop off the bed. “I should get ready.”
“For what?” Amy asks.
“Darren’s picking me up.”
“I suggested to JD that we hang out at the club tonight because my body is so wired. It’s, like, middle of the day in Phuket. But JD says he didn’t sleep well on the plane, so he’s going to pop some melatonin and crash.”
Amy pulls out her toiletry bag and goes to put it in the bathroom.
Going commando is not my preferred state of dress, but it’s not the biggest deal either. I decide on jeans and a knit sweater top. I have the option of my infamous chunky sweater or my hooded sweatshirt to keep me extra warm. Maybe I can just skip the outer layer since I’m getting a lift into the city.
“Simone says I missed your fried chicken,” Amy tells me when she’s back in the bedroom.
“We saved some for you.”
After running the brush through my hair a few times, I grab my chunky sweater and drape it over my arm.
“Say ‘hi’ to Darren,” Amy says before I go.
Darren is double-parked outside the building.
“Hey,” I greet him as I get in his car.
“You get my last text?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
Though his car windows are tinted, I look around anyway. Seeing no one nearby, I unzip my jeans. It’s hard to show much when I’m sitting. He reaches a hand down my pants. My body warms almost immediately, and I wonder that I will ever get tired of his touch.
“Good,” he says, then opens the arm console and takes out a velvet pouch. “Put that in.”
I pull from the pouch something egg-shaped and purple. “This goes inside me?”
“There’s lube in the console if you need it.”
“So we’re jumping right into this,” I comment. “No ‘how was your day’ first?”
“We can talk after the vibrator’s inside.”
After applying the lubricant, I manage to cram my hand into my jeans and press the vibrator into me. Darren’s gaze is on me the whole time.
“Now what?” I ask.
“You can zip up,” he replies, fishing out a remote control from the console.
As soon as I button my jeans, he presses the remote control. I jump at the vibrations. Setting down the controller, he takes the gear out of park and pulls the vehicle from the curb.
