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I love being a top, it’s like performing on my very own private stage, I get high off the breathless compliments I receive alone. I couldn’t care less about their gender as long as they worship me.
Prisha’s body starts to shake under my own and I quickly pull out, chasing her orgasm with my tongue flat on her clit, needing to taste her one last time. One last hit.
But I can already feel myself crashing. She needs to leave.
Besides, I have shit to do today. A business to run.
She lets out a small satisfied hum. “You’re amazing,” she sighs and I can tell she could go for another round but I’ve lost interest. I smile against her skin, kissing her thigh softly trying not to be atotalbitch, while my hand is patting around the bed for her shorts. When I finally find what I’m looking for I drag them next to her and stand up from the bed, stark naked aside from the strap-on.
“You were great,” I tell her with a wink while I unclasp the harness, climbing out of it and throwing it back on the rumpled duvet to deal with later.
First things first: kick Prisha out as gently as possible so she doesn’t end up hating me.
“I’m sorry to rush this,” I say with a small pout. “But I have a meeting in about an hour and I need to shower first and…” I trail off hoping she gets the message. There’s a flicker of hurt in her eyes before she blinks it away, forcing a smile on her still-flushed face.
“Of course,” she says shyly, quickly gathering her clothes and hopping into her shorts, her top now halfway on. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
While she gets dressed, I reach for the back of my bedroom door and slide my short pink satin robe over my shoulders, not even bothering to cinch it closed. Finally, I walk her to the front door, a wide open smile slapped on my face but inside I’m resisting the urge to shove her out of here.
“I’ll call you,” I chirp as she gives me a sheepish wave from the outside hallway. Closing the door, I quickly bolt it behind me. I let out a deep sigh, flipping my long black hair off one shoulder and head to the shower.
I wasn’t lying about that meeting.
“I’m here!” I yell out to Sunny from the hall, trying to overcompensate for my tardiness. I bite back a smile as I suck in a much needed breath, my heels echoing across the hall. Turning a sharp corner, I practically skid into our joint office. I know such a dramatic entrance isn’t needed but that’s just who I am around my best friend, especially when I know damn well that I’ll find her glaring at me from her messy desk. And oh, how surprising, there she is throwing daggers at me as I make my way to my own desk facing hers.
“Morning babes,” I sing-song, pretending I don’t notice her sour mood. She’s lucky I didn’t call her my gloomy baby. A nickname I appointed her due to her constant morose attitude—to put it lightly—for the first few years of our friendship. She hates it.
“You’re late,” she says with annoyance.
“Am I?” Mocking innocence and raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
Before sitting down, I readjust my leopard print pencil skirt and power up my desktop, my long acrylic nails tapping on the keyboard as I enter my password. The nails on my index and middle finger are noticeably shorter on my right hand, which leaves the straights very perplexed.
“Lenix,” she deadpans, her eyes dangerously close to an eye roll.
“Sunny?” I wrestle my wide grin into a small smirk and finally look directly at her. She doesn’t say anything more, just stares at me with big hazel eyes and finally, I crack.
“Ok fine, I’msor-ry.” I over pronounce the two last syllables just to annoy her further and give her a small exasperated eye roll of my own. “I got caught up with something,” I say slyly, looking her up and down, knowing full well she’s picking up on my insinuation. After all, we’ve been best friends for years now.
“Let me guess,” she answers dryly.
“No need.” I flash her a smile, wiggling my shoulders. “I can give you all the juicy details instead.”
Sunny finally breaks her scowl and laughs. “I’ll pass thanks. But I’m serious Len, you need to stop pulling this shit. I can’t always pick up the slack, you know.”
I can’t help but to feel guilty but Ialsocan’t help but to whine a little. “But you’re so good at this. You can’t deny that my strengths are not here in the office, but out there,” I say, pointing in a random general direction. “I’m the party and you’re the planning. Tell me I’m wrong.”
We met nearly five years ago, both working at a bar near Old Town called Sammies. I was the resident party girl, and I quickly took Sunny under my wing. We hooked up a few times at the very beginning but our relationship quickly turned into a steadfast friendship and she’s been my person ever since. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I’m so proud of how far she’s come.
Sunny groans loudly, dropping her face into her open palms, her messy auburn bun flopping atop her head with the sudden movement.
She knows I’m right.
We started our own event planning business last year and naturally fell into the roles that made the most sense for our dynamic. I’m the face of the business while she takes care of things behind the scenes. My special talent is schmoozing potential clients into giving us their money. It’s basically a business casual version of flirting, which happens to be my favorite pastime.
Besides, she’s being taught by the best. Her boyfriend Byzantine has at least a decade of experience cooking the books for the Sin Eaters and owns more than half of the bars and clubs across town. Which is a lot considering how big the city is. The beaches might be beautiful but Noxport has a dark underbelly like any major metropolis. His specific skills sort of translate—I suppose? Not that I’ve really asked.
Our business has been steadily growing ever since so we must be doing something right.
