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The One with the Red Lipstick

LAYLA: Girl. I felt a disturbance in the Friend Force last night. How many frorgasms did you have? Tell me everything.

ME: Shhhhhh!!!

LAYLA: Did you really just shush me in a text? Really?

ME: I’m in the room with him right now. He’s still sleeping.

LAYLA: Exhausted from banging you? Poor boy.

ME: A lady never tells.

LAYLA: Something tells me you’re not quite the lady you claim to be.

ME: Okay, ninety billion. That’s how many I had. But they weren’t frorgasms. I made him treat me like we aren’t friends.

LAYLA: OMG. You are a sexy evil genius. It was good?

LAYLA: Hello? Did I lose you?

ME: No. I’m just trying to think of a better adjective than “good.”

LAYLA: Fanfuckingtastic?

ME: It was Cannafuckingvaleful.

LAYLA: LOL

ME: It was Cannav-awe-inspiring

LAYLA:

ME: It was totally Edwardian. Nope. Never mind. It was really great.

LAYLA: So you banged it out? Did he break up with that IG dildo?

ME: It seems to be over. He said he’d make the call when we’re in Chicago.

LAYLA: Oh.

ME: I have no reason not to believe him. He said he’s not going to see her.

LAYLA: No, I totally believe him. It’s good. Better than good. You’re one and done, then?

ME: I think so. Well…three and done, technically.

ME: Shhh! I think he’s awake! Gotta go.

ME: Do NOT tell anyone about this!!!

ME: Love you bye.

Eddie is groaning as he stretches, and I think I might be at ninety-billion-and-one orgasms now.

I need tonothave orgasms every time he stretches or makes a noise or looks at me or does or says anything at all.

We are three and done.