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Glenda waves away Cami’s objection. “Nonsense. Run over to her apartment. And hurry. Bring her back in time for the meeting.”
She floats away to find someone else who needs her.
Cami squeezes her eyes shut. “I hate it when she sneaks up like that.”
“I heard that!” Glenda sings.
Ugh.
“Hey, does Lana really have cramps?” I whisper as we stop by Cami’s cube on the way out.
She grabs her bag and scoffs. The very nice and very expensive Louis Vuitton bag her husband bought her as an apology for leaving his socks on the floor. “I doubt it. She’s probably doing what she always is when she’s AWOL.”
Which means we not only shouldnotshow up at her door, we should stay far, far away. Instead, we press her doorbell long and loud when we arrive.
It takes only a millisecond to realize Cami’s right. Standing there before us, with a white bath towel slung low on his hips, is our favorite club’s bartender, a tall, dark Italian guy Lana’s had her eye on for weeks.
“Buongiorno, mie bellezze,” he says, his dark brown eyes dilating as he looks us up and down like a hungry lion.
“Um. Hi. Is Lana, um, here?” I fumble.
Shoulders back, chest out. Be not afraid of this sex god.
“Darlings! I’m in here!” Lana calls from deep inside her apartment.
The Italian hottie steps aside and ushers us in with a deep flourish, nearly dislodging his towel.
Which very nicely outlines his goodies.
We wander back to Lana’s room, where she’s splayed, only partially covered, with the best ‘freshly fucked’ look I think I’ve ever seen.
“Hey Lana, get dressed,” Cami says, pulling off the sheet to reveal Lana wearing a strap-on with a giant dildo. “What. The. Fuck,” she chokes.
Otherwise naked, Lana gets up and starts unbuckling what looks to be a very complicated contraption. “Guys, don’t you know,” she sighs, “it’s all about pegging now. You know, giving it to straight guys in the butt.”
Really?
I plop on the edge of the bed and look away while Lana dresses, my head spinning. Dammit, I’m going to have to cover this in my column now. I just know it.
Pegging! The new joy of sex!
Cami leans over the strap-on like if she gets too close, it will bite. “Damn. I if came near Steve with that, he’d probably divorce me.” Studying it where Lana tossed it on the floor, she rubs her chin in confusion, then looks up at us in a panic. “Oh my god. Maybe that’s why he’s cheating on me. He found someone who’ll give it to him in the bum.”
I can’t. I just can’t.
Sighing, Lana pulls a short, tight dress on and glances in the direction of Italian guy, who excuses himself for the shower. “Ladies. I think I have broken my all-time record for number of fucks in one night—”
I jump to my feet. “Guys, we have got to get back to the office. The meeting is in fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah, Lana,” Cami adds. “Glenda sent us to check on you. I lied and said you have cramps. She gave us a twenty to get you chicken soup, which I should get to keep since I covered your ass.” Cami crinkles the bill between her fingers.
Lana’s brows rise with interest, and she snatches the money out of Cami’s hand. “It’s mine, honey.” She looks my way. “Hey, Ava, you gotta do a write-up on pegging. It’s all the rage. You should have seen how hard Mario came—”
“Ok, ladies,” I shrill, heading for the door. “I’ll be out front hailing a cab. Please get a move on. I, personally, do not like to be late for Glenda’s meetings. The woman deserves more respect than that.”
Lana’s and Cami’s eyes widen at my outburst. Yeah, it might have been bitchy, but I really don’t want to hear any more about Lana’s butt-fucking conquests.
For cripes sake, I read and write about sex all day long. Isn’t that commitment enough?
