Page 55 of Champagne Fizz

“We didn’t—”

“Yes, I know that,” Simon says, turning to me kindly. “But you just came like we did.”

Lust shoots through my body at the fact that he knows what my body feels like orgasming against him. That knowledge flushes through me with a hot intimacy I don’t know how to hold. Suddenly, all those naughty images I’d imagined the other night on my couch come crashing through my subconscious, images of us naked and actually—

“Kendall, you look like you’re about to pass out again!” Simon clutches my elbow as he walks me inside the door he opened. It leads to a tiny bathroom with peacock green walls and gold trim.

“I’ll—I’ll be fine,” I lie, reaching for a towel and dousing it with water. When I dare to look at him, I can see his brain whirring. This happened before. I didn’t orgasm, but I did pass out. He’s putting the pieces together.

“Do you need ice?”

“No, no, I—” I shake my head and press the cloth to my neck.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, take a few minutes.” He looks toward the main room. “You freshen up and cool down, and I’ll—”

High-heeled footsteps clap in the distance. He shoots around me and back out of the bathroom, adjusting his trousers uncomfortably, which is when I realize—

A new wave of heat steams through my legs.

Simon catches me looking and blushes. “You’re not the only one who got excited.”

“You can’t go out there—”

The voices get louder.

“Are you inviting me in there to finish the job?” he asks pointedly, his eyes tracing over the red blotches on my shoulders and neck.

“I—I—” My mouth is dry as a bone, and still some inconceivable part of me wants to grab him by his belt and pull him in.

“Sorry, I—” he apologizes, shaking his head, realizing that was a little brash. “I didn’t mean you owe me or—”

“It’s fine, Simon,” I manage to get out. “If anyone understands the awkwardness of all of this, it’s me.”

“Okay,” he says weakly, smoothing out his clothes so he looks presentable. “Come out when you’re ready, alright?”

I nod.

“And Kendall—” Simon’s eyes catch me with a seriousness that makes me still. “We’re not done with this conversation.”

I bite my lip, unsure if he means my lame explanation of my condition, or the fact that I admitted to having done a lot less than date. Or maybe by conversation, he’s just using a euphemism for wanting to bend me over the desk in his office so he can work out—

Definitely not that last one! That’s just my brain misfiring.

I nod anyway.

“Oh my God!” I hear Olivia exclaim through the walls. She must be in the dining room. “It’s gorgeous!”

Simon tilts his head and gives me a knowing smile like he knew that’s exactly what she would say.

“Don’t be too long,” he says, closing the door with a click.

I turn to look in the mirror and Simon’s right, I’m flushed fluorescent. I look like a blinking Nude-Girls sign outside a gentlemen’s club, promising all sorts of surprises for a couple of dollars tucked into my panties. Fiddlesticks! I bet I looked exactly like this the other day when I nearly passed out in front of the coffee shop.

This condition isn’t just an inconvenience, it’s a sickness.

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