Page 40 of Going Deep
“Actually, my first time was Jason Watkins, eleventh grade,” Ginger corrected. “In his mother’s Ford Taurus station wagon.”
She paused for a moment, then added, “This was better.”
Lola snorted. “I should fucking hope so.”
“So much so that I’m going to play with him again this weekend,” Ginger continued.
“You didn’t tell us that,” Anna accused.
“I wasn’t sure I was going to,” Ginger admitted. “The playing part, not the telling-you part. Obviously, I’d tell you.”
“Obviously,” Anna said.
“Explain the other part,” Lola urged.
“He mentioned it on Sunday morning when he called. I was a bit shaky,” she recalled. “Kind of, I don’t know, tender, if that makes sense. Not physically, but…”
“I get it,” Anna said.
Lola nodded. “Go on.”
“Anyway, talking to him made me feel better, and as we were winding down, he said he’d like to play again this weekend. Friday night. And it sounded good, but…”
“Shaky.”
Ginger nodded at Lola. “Yeah. Which he seemed to get. So he said if I was interested, to meet him at the bar again, at nine-thirty, and we’d go from there.”
“Did he tell you what he was planning this time?” Anna wanted to know.
“Just that it would be different from last time.”
Anna frowned. “Remind me again what you did last time?”
“Bondage, spanking, fucking.”
“The holy trinity,” Lola said with deep reverence.
“Please.” Ginger winced and held up a hand. “I went to Catholic school. Can we keep the Trinity out of this?”
“Sorry,” Lola snickered.
“Well, that leaves a lot of options,” Anna sipped her wine, then put it down with a clink. “Ooh, we’re going to be there Friday night. Maybe we can watch this time.”
Ginger winced. “Oh, God.”
Anna’s laughter pealed out. “Hey, I almost forgot! I made brownies.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Double fudge.”
“Okay, you can watch me get naked and fucked,” Ginger decided.
They fell on the plate of brownies like starving wolves and cracked open a second bottle of wine.
“They say red wine goes with chocolate,” Anna commented, curled up on the living room rug. “I think they’re right. No, Henry, you can’t have any chocolate.”
“Chocolate goes with everything,” Ginger mumbled around a mouth full of double fudge. On the rug beside Anna, Henry woofed his agreement.
“I’ll eat to that,” Lola enthused and rose to snag another brownie from the plate on the mantle, where they’d put it to keep Henry safe.
“You know what I haven’t done in forever?” Anna mused. “Danced. I haven’t been dancing in forever.”
