Page 22 of Going Deep
“Good. And Ginger, one more thing?”
“Yes?”
“When we’re here, in the club, I’d like you to call me Sir. Can you do that?”
Oh boy, oh boy. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he said with a smile that turned her insides to mush. “Come on, let’s go find your friends before they send out a search party.”
CHAPTER THREE
She slept like the dead and woke up anxious. Since anxious was her default, she couldn’t pin that on Michael.
The fact that she woke up horny? That was on him.
She went down to the coffee shop on the corner for a mocha latte, then set off for the clinic Michael had recommended, knowing the walk through the just-waking city streets would help soothe her jangling nerves. Her lifelong struggle with anxiety had taught her to use all the coping methods available to her—and to never miss a dose of her meds.
Exercise and deep breathing and therapy all helped, but SSRIs had saved her life.
By the time she had completed the paperwork and had given up a vial of blood, the sun was going full blast and the sidewalks were steaming, so she walked into her apartment coated in a light sheen of sweat. Deciding she might as well keep sweating, she unrolled her yoga mat and spent an hour in a routine meant to stretch out the muscles and calm the mind. Unfortunately, it didn’t make her less horny.
Giving up on exercise, she wiped down the yoga mat and went to see what the massaging shower head could do for her.
Forty-five minutes later, refreshed and clean and with the leading edge of lust dulled by what she’d decided to call hydrotherapy, she took her morning meds and was pulling a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator when the doorbell rang.
And found it didn’t surprise her at all to see Lola and Anna on her doorstep.
She eyed the paper bags in Lola’s hands. “Tell me that’s a bunch of greasy, revolting, fast-food breakfast sandwiches.”
Lola strode in. “That’s exactly what it is.”
“Bless you.”
Anna followed with a drink carrier holding three coffees. “Dibs on the bacon ones.”
“I told you, we each get one,” Lola called back from the kitchen.
Ginger closed the door and followed them into the kitchen. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”
Lola was pulling down plates and cups. “We brought breakfast.”
“And it’s appreciated,” Ginger said, sniffing at the bags. There was sausage in there, and hash browns. “But again, why?”
“We thought you might want to talk before tonight.”
“And after,” Anna chimed in. “Which is why we’re having brunch here tomorrow.”
“We are?”
Lola began to unpack the bags. “Anna’s making crepes.”
“With lemon crème and fresh blueberries,” Anna said, handing out coffees. “And mimosas.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Lola handed her a plate with a breakfast sandwich and a hash brown. “We want to.”
“Just think of us as your kinky fairy godmothers,” Anna advised.
