Page 38 of WASP

Shit.

She reached into her pocket, ready to text Jack an SOS to give his dad a head’s up about Willis’s impending call, only to see a message from Annie.

Annie 12:48 PM

Good luck with your presentation today! You’re going to absolutely nail it, and everyone at Mcallum-Windsor will continue to enjoy your unparalleled wine experiential services. I believe in you!

Her heart did a weird little flutter/flop in her chest as she read and reread Annie’s text, forming her response.

Max 1:36 PM

Thanks. Things took a weird turn, and I ended up quitting on the spot. I’ll fill you in later.

Instantly, three dots appeared, followed by another message.

Annie 1:37 PM

Fuck them. Spoon Me in twenty?

Max grinned, both at the fact that Annie immediately was on her side without having any context to what had led to her impulsive self-termination, and also her invitation.

Annie 1:37 PM

Spoon Me the frozen yogurt place.

Not that I wouldn’t want you to physically spoon me.

Rage yogurt tastes better in my opinion

Annie 1:38 PM

I’m going to stop now. See you soon?

Max laughed out loud, enjoying the way Annie’s chaotic texts instantly made her forget how angry she was.

Max 1:39 PM

I’d love that. Going to Spoon Me and spooning you at some point...you know…just so we’re on the same page. But I do have to warn you I’m a firm little spoon.

She hit send. Sighing deeply, running her fingers through her hair once more before getting to her feet as the security guard, a woman in her late forties named Helen that Max had a fairly good rapport with, entered the small conference room to escort her off the premises.

NINE

ANNIE

The women on her ceiling were mocking her.

Annie blinked. Faint February light filtering in through the windows on the wall to her left gave everything a cool tint. She checked her phone—it was eight thirty. Too early for her to want to get up, but too late for her to try and go back to sleep. She groaned, sinking back into her pillow, eyes once again meeting the collage of women cut out from magazines on the ceiling, reminding her that yes. She was still, unfortunately, living with her parents. Correction—she was almost thirty, unemployed, and living with her parents.

She strained her ears, listening hard for footsteps moving through the lower level of the house but didn’t hear anything. It was Saturday, which meant Pilates class for her mom, racquetball for her dad, and an empty house without anyone asking Annie intrusive questions about when she planned to get her life together. She found herself extremely grateful for the latter, considering she still had no idea.

Having the house to herself was a rarity, one Annie planned on taking full advantage of. She shifted onto her side, reaching with one arm over the edge of her mattress, feeling around for the little zip pouch she kept under the bed. The one she kept her vibrator in. See, the thing was, Annie was fucking horny. Not like I’m bored with nothing better to do horny, but I’m about to crawl out of my skin unless I have an orgasm horny. The problem was, that kind of horny could only really be solved with one thing—and unfortunately for her, it was not the little pink vibrator currently clutched in her hands.

She listened once more for any sounds of movement, sliding the vibrator under the covers, fingers hooking into the waistband of her sleepshorts and pushing them down over her hips, just enough for her to be able to press the vibrator to her most sensitive area. With nimble fingers, Annie pressed the power button as the device hummed to life in her hands. She moaned softly, pressing the head of the vibrator lightly against her clit, hips twitching with the sensation as she moved it in unhurried circles. Her eyes fluttered closed, the darkness of her mind taking over as she tried to focus on the feeling she was chasing.

One pass, and then another. Again and again she circled her clit, each time the pulsing feeling shooting through her but always falling short in a way that left her unsatisfied and incredibly frustrated.

“C’mon,” she groaned, her frustration audible. Maybe she should watch some porn, or dive back into some spicy fanfics of her favorite TV shows. But a pair of clear, pale blue eyes framed by dark hair and freckles so numerous she couldn’t even begin to imagine counting them all came to the front of her mind.