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I toss the canister of cheddar Pringles to the side and it tips over, spilling orange goodness out of the top and all over the table, and I roll my eyes at myself.
Fine. So I’m still fairly confident Eric wants me, but maybe I’m feeling a little bit of nerves about us actually getting right down to it. I’m not exactly all that experienced when it comes to sex. Two partners my entire life does not scream freak in the sheets, even though I talk a good game. And really, I’m only counting one of those, since the second one was Cindy’s ex-husband during an extreme moment of weakness that I will never stop regretting. I watch a lot of porn, okay? Porn has taught me everything I need to know about sex. I know I want him. I know his kisses make every inch of my body feel like it’s on fire, and I can only imagine what else that man could do to me. I know he likes the sassy side of me, but what if he expects that during sex? Do I even know how to be sassy during sex? Should I be watching dominatrix porn? Is he going to want me to curse at him and smack his face when he’s climaxing?
Son of a bitch, why is this so confusing?
“Honey, I’m home!” Eric announces as he comes down the steps of my boat with Derrick Alfredo in his arms.
A normal woman would probably jump up from the table guiltily and make up some ridiculous story about how robbers came in and flung junk food all over the table like a bunch of animals, but I’m not a normal woman. I’ve also got orange cheese dust on my blue tank top, right over my tits, where I wiped my hands, so the jig is up.
Instead, I grab a huge stack of spilled Pringles, tear off another giant chunk of bagel, and shovel everything into my mouth at once.
Eric looks at me with concern, setting Derrick onto the couch before walking over to stand next to my chair, resting his hand on the back of it.
“Alight carps,” I say around a mouthful of food, looking up at him as I chew, smacking my hand around blindly on the table until I find a random powdered sugar donut hole and jam that thing into my mouth as well.
“Noted,” Eric says with a twitch at the corner of his mouth as I reach for something else on the table. “As long as you said I like carbs and you aren’t talking about setting fish on fire.”
“I’m not giving up carbs for any man, ever again,” I inform him, powdered sugar puffing out of my mouth as I speak, stressing my point by waving a stick of butter at him.
Okay, I might have taken this a little too far.
“Well, that’s good,” Eric states, taking the stick of butter out of my hand and placing it on the table then grabbing a donut hole for himself and popping it into his mouth. “Carbs are delicious. But can we maybe stick to one carb at a time so I don’t have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on you?”
I finish chewing the bagel-Pringle-donut mixture and finally swallow, giving him a nod.
“I can live with that.”
He finally bends down and presses his lips to mine, pulling back to give me a smile.
“You okay?”
“I’m super!” I say a little too loudly.
All the sugar and carbs have suddenly made me a little hyper.
“Good, because I have a favor to ask.”
He stands back up and removes his dark-blue suit coat, tossing it over the back of the chair next to me. Next, he pulls the knot out of his tie and tugs it from around his neck, laying that on top of the coat before unbuttoning the top two buttons on his white dress shirt.
Holy shit, is this it? Are we going to have sex now?
“PJ has been tossing around the idea of doing an all-male revue at Charming’s once a month, for the ladies,” he explains, holding on to the back of my chair with one hand as he brings his foot up and removes his shoe with the other.
What in the hell does this have to do with us having sex?
He shifts to lift his other foot and remove that shoe as well, and I start to panic, wondering if I remembered to put on good underwear this morning.
“Anyway, he’s thinking about having auditions at the club in a few weeks for male dancers.”
Does he want to bring a male dancer home for me? Is that the kind of kink he’s into?
“That’s . . . nice,” I tell him, having no fucking clue what else I’m supposed to say to that.
“You’re going to dance for the Naughty Princess Club, right?” he asks, grabbing both of my hands and pulling me up from my chair.
