Page 36 of Smooth Talk

Chapter 14

Poppy

Sara: He fucking fired me!

The text comes in early Saturday morning, waking me from the most realistic dream. Goodness Gray-cious! The man has me tied in knots. Literally tied up in that dream. I didn’t think that was my particular brand of kink, but I think he could probably talk me into trying a few new things in the bedroom. The blush creeping across my cheeks threatens to overtake my whole body as I remember just how good Mr. Maxwell’s tongue was at convincing me to do things. Whew. I fan my face and lick my lips. I was so close. We’ve barely kissed; this little crush of mine is out of control.

Me: Sweetie, it’s 7:30 am on Saturday and miraculously I have the day off and Harp hasn’t woken me yet. Why are you working?

Sara: Well, I’m not anymore… unless you missed the part about me getting FIRED

Sara: I have a stomach bug, so I’d taken a few days off for R&R and turned off my tablet and phone.

Me: As you do

Sara: Apparently 2 days of incommunicado is grounds for termination in Mr. Atwater’s world

Me: Who?

Sara: The pompous Charleston asshat I’ve been busting my butt for, you know, the Dadzilla for the wedding of the century, which apparently isn’t even going to happen now as the happy couple decided to postpone their nuptials

Me: Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?

Sara: No, apparently the groom needs time to heal and recover… He’s kinda in a coma

Me: A COMA?!

Sara: Yeah; he was in an accident while I was sick, and they couldn’t reach me. And because they aren’t sticking to the original timeline, ‘my services are no longer required’

Me: I’m sorry hun, I know you were counting on this wedding

Sara: I haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet

Me: There’s more to the saga?

Sara: He propositioned me! His exact words were, ‘now that you’re no longer in my employ, we’re free to do what we’ve both been thinking about doing since we met.’ When I asked what exactly he meant, he told me he doesn’t play games and if I wanted to, maybe he was wrong about me. I mean he is gorgeous, and I have fantasized a bit, but I want dinner or drinks first, maybe a weekend in the Hamptons… I’m not that easy.

Sara: I mean, it’s awful presumptuous of him to think I’d just jump in his bed without some kind of understanding. I was already feeling nauseous before texting him, it only helped relieve my stomach of its contents. And I was so proud of the crackers and ginger ale I’d managed to keep down for a whole hour.

Me: I’m sorry you’re sick hun, do you want me to order some soup for you? And 99% of the time, I would say douchebags are the kind of men that expect something for nothing, but are you interested in dating him?

Sara: Thanks sweetie, but my doorman dropped some off for me last night, and I’m feeling a little better now

Sara: Of course, I’m not interested in dating him. I’m not even thirty yet; I have years to sow my wild oats. My profession gives men the wrong idea. They think I was born ready to get married. Most are stand offish once they hear what I do for a living. The ones that stick around long enough to realize it’s only a bit of fun that I want, still at least try to give the illusion of being decent. I know the majority of men I meet are assholes. I just wanted him to act like he wanted more than to get in my lace La Perlas. I guess he’s right and I’m not over the whole ‘playing games’ phase in life. The last time I saw him, he made it noticeably clear that he’s only interested in my body. His eyes practically devoured me. It had me imagining all the ways we could create a chocolate, caramel swirl, despite his crass-holiness

Sara: Yes, he’s gorgeous and sexy and demanding and if he would shut his fucking mouth, I wouldn’t mind letting him help me out of the dry spell I’ve been in lately. And let me tell you, I am the opposite of dry around that man. Winky face emoji

Me: LOL, you’re crazy

I slip downstairs to get breakfast started. Harper’s watching tv in the living room, and I probably only have a couple minutes before she starts complaining that she’s starving. I kiss her on the head, go to the kitchen and rummage around the fridge. I find eggs, cheese, spinach and mushrooms. I grab everything and throw some omelets together. My phone sets off a series of dings. Sara’s on a rant.

Sara: I was actually planning to let him bang my brains out… after the wedding. TBH, I’ve had several fantasies. There’s this stone wall covered in moss and white flowers at the venue that would be perfect for… Speak-No-Evil-Monkey emoji

Sara: I digress… This wedding meant more to me than matrimonial bliss and a hot FOTBILF.

Sara: It was going to pave the way to my independence. Our second location. One I’d be in charge of. With zero oversight from my mother (well, minimal). Situated in a gloriously balmy southern climate where romantic outdoor weddings happen from March through November. The NY season lasts six months. Tops. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve planned some gorgeous indoor winter weddings, but it’s not the same

Sara: Sorry. I’m rambling. I know it’s early, but I really need to vent.

---