“I can’t. I tried already.”
“Get Henley on it.”
“He tried too.”
“Then go to a computer geek person, and get them to do it,” I whisper.
The door bursts open. “Dr. Grayson, you’re needed in room twelve,” Judy tells me.
“Coming.”
She disappears out the door. “Got to go,” I tell Antony.
“Did you get to the part where he eats her out yet?”
“What?” I whisper. “With his fangs?”
“With his nine-inch tongue.”
My eyes widen.
“Seriously . . . fuck. Ing. Hell.”
“Get that fucking link open.” I hang up, then stand up to get back to work.
Jeez ... I need a cold shower.
Rebecca
I sit on the couch and peer through the curtains as I act casual, and by acting casual I mean I’m dressed in normal everyday house clothes as if this is just a normal day and Blake is coming over for a normal dinner. I’m not mentioning the hours-long primping session I had upstairs all afternoon. My hair is done, my makeup natural; I’m shaved and waxed to within an inch of my life, and my vacation spray tan has been well and truly activated.
Suitcase is packed, and my ducks are all in a row ... at least, I hope they are.
I’m ready ... well, as ready as I’ll ever be.
I see headlights pull into the cul-de-sac, and my heart skips a beat. Blake’s home.
My heart begins to thump in my chest ... Blake’s home.
Ahhhhhh.
Fucking Blake’s home.
Suddenly I’m freaking out. I jump from the couch and run upstairs and look at myself in the mirror. “This is fine,” I tell the nervous girl in the mirror. “You’ve got this.” I turn and look at my behind in the mirror. “But do you really?” I reply to her.
I hear the front door open. “Hey,” he calls from downstairs as he walks in.
Shit.
How do I get myself into these situations?
“I got Italian,” he calls, and I hear him walk into the kitchen as he begins to unpack the food. “Where are you?”
I put my head into my hands and take a long, steadying breath.
I want this. More than anything I want this, and I know that I need to push through the nerves and get on with it. I drop my shoulders to prepare myself.
Go.