Page 57 of The Winning Ticket

Little B

I was thinking you’d fuck me while I bend over the back of the couch, but if you’d rather shop with the boys, I guess I’ll just have to entertain myself.

I almost choke on the mouthful of beer I’ve just taken.

I stare at her text for a few moments before hitting the call button next to her name. She answers on the first ring.

“Was it something I said?” she asks, her voice a little husky.

“Well, you’ve given me all sorts of visuals now, Little B. Just how badly do you want me to bend you over that couch when I get there?” I ask, settling back into the couch.

“Why, Jake, are you trying to get me to have phone sex with you right now? How scandalous.”

I can hear the excitement in her voice while we begin discussing exactly what I plan to do to her once she gets home from work on Friday.

24

THERE IS JUST SO MUCH CHEMISTRY THERE

BRIANNA

Kylie

Dinner tonight?

Brianna

Depends… Are you cooking?

Kylie

Pfft, lord no. Tara is.

Brianna

Well, in that case, I accept. You haven't said anything to anyone about Saturday, have you?

Kylie

No. But you best believe I want details, lady.

I let out a sigh of relief at Kylie's confirmation that she hadn’t told anyone about what she saw on Saturday. I'm surprised she hasn't told Tara, at the very least, but I'm grateful that she's kept her word.

Sliding my phone into my handbag, I log back on to my computer after lunch and stare at the campaign I was working on. I had hoped taking a break from it would inspire me for the best marketing strategy for the latest ugly but sought-after handbag.

No such luck, though. My heart just isn't in luxury brands anymore. I have slowly realised that I had only fallen into that world while I was with Richard. Still, the further I move away from his influence, the more I notice that I don't care about handbags that cost thousands of dollars and clothes that half my friends wouldn't even fit into. That the version of me from four years ago wouldn't have fit into or even cared about fitting into.

The beauty of hindsight was that looking back, I have realised that I had become nothing more than Richard's little doll, dressing up in the clothes that he thought I should wear and eating only enough to survive so that I could fit into the clothes that all the models he photographed wore. I already don't fit half the clothes in my wardrobe, and yet, I am happier than I'd ever been when I was hungry all the time.

"How's the launch coming?" Cynthia appears out of nowhere to peer over my shoulder and stare at my screen. "You've not even started it yet?" Her face says it all.

She is pissed.

"I'm just trying to find some inspiration," I say, attempting to muster up even a little enthusiasm, but it's not coming easily.

"You've been working on this all week… I think we need to have a conversation about your work since you've been here," Cynthia says, her tone haughty while she looks down at me with pursed lips.

Ever since I started at the Brisbane office, she has micromanaged me to death, and I know, with absolute certainty, that she has just been waiting for the chance to performance-manage me out of the company.

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