Page 89 of Pucking Sweet

“Poppy, honey, I’m so sorry,” cries Vicki. “They started working on those dang generators, and then they blew a fuse, and it all went to hell in a hand basket.”

I step out from behind Colton, a fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, it’s about time y’all rescued us,” I chime. “If I had to play ‘I Spy’ with this guy for one more minute, I was gonna lose my dang mind.”

They all laugh, including Colton. It’s rich and deep and warms me through like sinking into a hot bath. He makes the rounds, shaking the firefighters’ hands as Vicki hurries over to me, her dark eyes wide with worry. “Poppy, honey, is everything alright?”

Oh god, how bad do I look? First stop: bathroom mirror.

“I may have had a teensy little panic attack,” I admit. “But Colton helped calm me down.”

“I’m so sorry,” Vicki repeats. “I’m glad you weren’t stuck in there all alone.”

“She was a difficult patient, but I had her relaxed by the end,” Colton teases.

I just smile. How the heck are we getting away with this? Surely there must be a large flashing sign over our heads that reads: “WE JUST HAD SEX.”

But Vicki is still chattering about broken generators, and the quartet of firefighters is moving off, their job here done. Colton inches closer, filling my already-swimming senses with his woodsy scent and the heat of his now-familiar body.

I have to get out of here. “Well, the day doesn’t end just because you get stuck in an elevator. Back to work I go.”

Vicki steps over to the elevator and presses the “up” button. “You heading back up to four, honey?”

I watch the doors open and shake my head. “Sorry, Vic. For the foreseeable future, I think I’ll be taking the stairs.”

Colton chuckles. I cast him one more parting glance and the smooth devil winks. Only he and I will ever know that I walked into that elevator wearing panties, and I just walked out with those panties in his pocket, his cum now sticky between my legs.

29

“Wait, what are we doing?” I glance around at all the stuff Wednesday Addams and the social media interns have set out for us. Word to the wise: never say “nothing” when someone asks you what you’re doing until you’veone hundred percentconfirmed their identity. I walked right into this and have no one to blame but myself.

“It’s called the tortilla slap challenge,” Wednesday says again.

“That tells us nothing,” says Karlsson.

She glares at him. He doesn’t take offense; she just doesn’t have another way she looks at people. “You each take a large drink of water and hold it in your mouth,” she explains again. “Don’t swallow. Then you pick up a tortilla. Then you take turns slapping each other in the face with it. What’s hard to understand?”

Sully glances from the bottles of water to the stack of tortillas. “Yeah, but…why?”

“Because it’s funny and it’s trending. Now, Karlsson and Sully, you’re up first.”

“Why do we need the water?” asks Karlsson.

“Just put the water in your mouth and don’t swallow it,” she says. “When Sully hits you with the tortilla, try not to spit it out.”

“Hear that, Hen?” I elbow Karlsson. “In this game, you don’t get to spit or swallow. You just gotta hold that shit in your mouth. Gargle it. Really give it a good soak.”

He mutters something in Swedish as Sully says, “This sounds so dumb.”

“Itisdumb,” Wednesday replies. “But it’s trending and you all volunteered. So, pick up the tortillas and get slapping. Come on, I want to post this content within the hour.”

Woody raises his hand like he’s twelve and this is class.

Wednesday looks at him. “What, Woodson?”

“Yeah, uhh, I think I’d like to change my previous answer to ‘I’m busy.’ Can I do that? Can I go?”

Wednesday just stares him down until he lowers his hand.

“How ’bout I just watch the first round?” he offers.

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