A little raunchy R&B for the win.
I moved to his closet and pulled out a white button-up. I slipped my dress and heels off and pulled the oversize shirt over my head. I left several buttons open, exposing the red lace of my bra, and climbed onto his bed, positioning myself in the center.
One leg bent.
I propped myself up on my elbow.
I tugged my hair over one shoulder.
Okay, this would work. But first I needed to pee. I ran to the bathroom, snooped around, and couldn’t find any condoms.
My God. What if Charles didn’t keep condoms at the house?
I didn’t carry them.
I dug through his bathroom drawers and came up empty.
Was I sweating now?
I texted the girls in a panic.
Me: He’s not here yet, but I can’t find condoms.
Montana: Where did you look?
Me: Bathroom.
Blakely: Should you check the garage?
Montana: She needs condoms not a snow shovel.
Me: Focus. I can’t Bang It Out with a man I despise and not have a condom. The jig is up. This isn’t going to happen. What was I thinking?
Blakely: Ahhh ... is this an example of the self-sabotaging?
Montana: Yes, ma’am.
Montana: Try the nightstand.
Me: Oh. Why didn’t I think of that?
Me: Charlie’s room is very tidy. He’s ridiculously clean.
Blakely: And that’s a bad thing?
Me: I’m just saying. The man is uptight. Checking the drawers now.
I set my phone down and pulled open the top drawer.
There was a pair of nail clippers.
ChapStick.
Vaseline.
Hmm ... what have you been up to, Charlie Huxley?
There were a few books about construction and architecture, and I fumbled around beneath the books and gaped at what my hand found.
