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Hands shaking, I answered. “Hello.”
“Ms. Montrose?” a raspy voice said.
“This is she.”
“Hi, this is Janice Toussaint from the Resplendent Theatre production team. We’ve reviewed your application for the junior costume designer position and would like to put you on standby.”
I was getting a call instead of being ghosted. That had to be good, right?Standbydidn’t carry the same joyous ring asyou’re hired.
I steeled my nerves. “What does that mean?”
“There’s a hold on hiring and spending, so technically I can’t offer you a job right now.”
“Butun-technically?” I asked, hope filling me up like a balloon.
“Once the hold is released, and the secret project I’m not allowed to tell you about is approved to begin, we’d like to bring you on as an apprentice. There’ll be a probationary period before you could apply for benefits, and….”
Janice kept talking about details and delays and how unofficial all of this was, but all I could focus on was that my dreams were coming true. I couldn’t believe it. This was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
“Yes,” I said. “However long it takes—I’m so in.”
“That’s wonderful news. We’ll be in touch. Good day Ms. Montrose.”
“Good day,” I replied, keeping it totally cool, and hung up the phone.
I squealed, turned to Oscar, and dove at him like a spider monkey. He caught me easily with a soft chuckle.
“Good news?” he asked.
“I’m getting my dream job. Whenever they work out some business stuff. They actually want me to make costumes for the Resplendent Theatre! I can’t believe it!”
“Of course they do. You’re amazing.”
I kissed him and kissed him, and he took it deeper. I wanted to share my victory with him in every possible way, ride this excitement higher and higher until we shot up into the stratosphere.
He carried me behind the beach ball statue. It was a quiet spot, and we were completely alone because even if someone else entered this area of the park, no one else would dare approach such a grotesque creation or risk nightmares for life.
I was on cloud nine, floating so high, nothing could bring me down. Exhilaration simmering through my veins, I slipped a condom out of my dress pocket and showed it to Oscar.
“Here?” he asked, his brows rising in surprise.
I nodded. “Can’t wait. Need you. Now.”
He set me down slowly, gently.
I clawed at his pants, and he didn’t stop me. Instead, he grabbed my breast and gave me the perfect squeeze, and flipped me around.
I heard the crinkle of foil. His hand slipped up my thigh, pulled my panties to the side, and his fingers nestled between my folds. This was exactly what I craved—connection, celebration, another level of bliss.
And I used one hand to cover my moans, the other to steady myself on the disturbing statue.
I rocked my hips back, as he pressed a finger into me. It felt amazing, but I craved more. I wanted all of him.
“Dick, now,” I begged. “Please.”
Hard and fast, he impaled me. It was pain and pleasure, in perfect unison as my body adjusted to his size.
“You’re so fucking tight, Morgan. So perfect.” He slammed in again.
