Page 62 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
But my phone buzzed with a text from him, saying simply,“ . . .”
Then,And?
Before I could stop myself, feeling the thrill of excitement of something new, I took out my fingers and hurriedly texted at light speed,Now I’m wet. And not just on my nipples.
I’d never sexted anyone before. My ex had no interest.
Mikey, however, was in charge now, and he clearly did not mind sexting. His next text commanded,Take off your panties.
I’m at work!
Now.
I knew I could fight him on this. I could say no, but I didn’t want to. I’d never felt more turned on in my life. I could barely control my actions, my finger itching to go back in my bra. I sat there, staring at my phone, wondering if I should really do it.
My phone vibrated.
They off?
No.
Hang on.
Not really believing that I was actually doing it, but wanting to do it at the same time, I pulled up my pencil skirt and shimmied out of my panties.
Hussy in the office.
I stood there for a moment, the total pervert, wearing nothing underneath. In my law firm.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Holy fuck, what was I turning into?
Someone who swore and took off her underwear when a hot guy told her to.
I shimmied my skirt back down.
But then he texted,Take a picture of your panties. I want to see them.
My stomach plummeted. He wanted proof.
I folded up my panties so that they looked smaller than they really were, and then artfully put them on my keyboard.
I took a picture with my phone.
No, that was no good. Deleted.
Another picture.
No.
Another picture.
No.
Another.
I added a washed-out filter.
