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“Holy shit! Did you see the photo of them in a tuxedo?”
“Trust me, I did.”
“They’re tall?”
“I’d say six-one to six-three.”
“Nice!” She nods. “And those blue eyes… how can you stare at them without losing yourself?”
“I managed.” Barely.
“Those dazzling smiles should be on billboards across the country.”
“God didn’t skimp the day they were born,” I say. That’s for sure.
“Imagine what they’re hiding under the suit or tux.”
My cheeks burst into flames.
“Oh, someone has been having some naughty thoughts at work,” she says.
“You’re blowing this way out of proportion. They weren’t naughty thoughts. They were curious ones.”
“Which one makes your pussy flutter the most?”
“Phoebe! That’s a horrible word.”
“Okay. Quiver, pulsate, palpitate, convulse, tremor, shatter. Pick the word you prefer and pick a guy,” she says.
“All of those words are over-the-top.”
“You want to play it like that?” She continues before I can answer. “Which one of those two will you fantasize about tonight while you play with yourself?”
“Phoebe!” I’m sure my cheeks are ten shades redder.
“You may have given up on cock—because it’s attached to a man—but orgasms? Come on, Ari. A girl needs two to three of those per day.” Unbelievable.
“Two to three?”
“I hit the jackpot with Oscar.”
“Evidently.”
“Until you meet your Oscar, I suggest you take matters into your own hands. How long has it been?”
“Why do I tell you so much?” I shake my head.
“Because I’m your best friend.”
“Well, listen here, best friend, there will be no fluttering or quivering pussy,” I tell her. “The same goes for fantasizing about the men who will be signing my paychecks.”
“You say that now, but I’m sure in time, you’ll change your mind.” She seems so certain of herself.
I hesitate, weighing if I should give her more ammunition or not.
She squints at me. “Are you holding back on me? Did you already have a hot make-out session with one of them?”
“I just started today! What do you take me for?”
