Page 11 of About That One Night
MaxMc: Yep. I can do a lot of things, including eating your pussy. I bet you’re tasty.
Zoe: STOP.
MaxMc: I like it when you blush.
Zoe: You’re a terrible friend.
MaxMc: Why?
Zoe: This isn’t the kind of conversation friends have with each other.
MaxMc: Yes, I can tell you how I like to have my cock sucked—and my fucking amazing mouth. Itdoes wonders.
Zoe: Turning off the phone—now.
After I turn off the phone, I excuse myself. Never in my life have I felt so flustered—and during a meeting no less. I freshen up and when I arrive at my office, the phone rings.
“It’s for you,” Anna, my assistant, says.
“Can you tell them I will call in a few?”
She is about to say that when whoever is on the other line says it’s urgent. I groan, but go into my office, shut the door, and take the call.
“Zoe Harper speaking,” I say, trying to maintain my professional tone.
“Sorry,” Max’s voice comes from the other side.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I snap. “We have to set boundaries. You can’t tease me like that while I’m in a meeting.”
“A meeting you were hating, by the way,” Max responds with a smirk evident in his tone.
“Not the point,” I retort sharply. “You can’t just text me . . . I mean, that’s very inappropriate.”
“What exactly are you calling inappropriate?” His voice is guarded and somehow I feel like if I don’t give him the right answer, he’s going to be teasing me about this conversation for the rest of my natural life.
“The texts you were sending while I was busy,” I say, hoping that the right wording will convey my frustration.
“But if you weren’t busy, they would’ve beenokay?” he asks, probably or at least hopefully trying to find some kind of boundary.
“I don’t know. Why would I want to talk about my sex life with you?” I question defensively.
“We’re friends, why not? Don’t you talk about that with your girlfriends and sisters?” he challenges. “It’s the twenty-first century, Zoe. The elders won’t punish you for liking sex.”
“I’m not a prude, if that’s what you’re saying,” I bark, feeling my face flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
“Then did he?”
I stare at the phone, confused. “What are you asking?”
“Did Tom ever say he was going to lick your vagina?” His bluntness knows no boundaries.
“I refuse to respond.”
“So you two never had oral?” He sounds actually concerned about it.
“That is none of your business.”
“It is. I’m worried about your health, Zoe. This guy refused to give you the basics—unless he did and he talked very, very dirty while doing so,” he says, his voice low, gravelly, and undeniably sexual.
