Page 17 of With a Cherry On Top

She remembers me. I mean—it’s only been twenty-four hours, but she must talk to loads of men in that timeframe, and she remembersme.

I really am a loser, because the awareness warms me up instantly.

Ugh. Now I sound like Kyle.

“H-hey.”

“Let me guess.” She leans forward and the black minidress she’s wearing inches up her thigh. “Another feline setup?”

I adjust the volume to make sure I won’t wake Sadie up, then remind myself that I’ve locked the door so she won’t accidentally stumble into whatever is about to happen.

“Actually, I’ve abandoned the cat at the closest dumpster.”

Cherry’s smile falls.

“Just—just a joke. The cat’s fine. Sleeping, at least until I go to sleep. Then she’ll start playing whack-a-mole with my face.”

She giggles. “I’m happy you called back.”

“Yeah?” I ask. She likely tells that to everyone, but I don’t care. My almost-ex-wife doesn’t want to talk to me—or her daughter. Sadie is hurting and there’s nothing I can do about it. But for the next ten minutes, I can pretend this woman was waiting for my call. I can pretendsomeonewas.

“Absolutely. You left in such a rush yesterday. I didn’t even get to hear your voice do all those fun things we talked about.”

I breathe out, her words sinking deep into my stomach and taking hold of my common sense. “So how...how does this work?”

“It works however you want it to.” She rises to her knees, then takes a box and drags it to the center of the bed. “You want me to play with toys? I’ll even let you choose the size. You want me to deny myself orgasms? I’ll wither for you. I’ll dance for you, or talk you through the best handjob of your life. I’ll tell you every single thing I’d let you do to me if you were here.”

I shift on the white sheets, my erection straining against my jeans. Most of that seems...too complicated. Too rehearsed, even, when all I truly want right now is for this to feel real.

When all I want is to feel like someone out there wants me to give them pleasure.

“Could we just . . .”

She tilts her head. “Yes, baby?”

“Could you . . . come? For me?”

She blinks and for a second seems taken aback. Maybe it’s a weird thing to ask, but before I can take it back, she plasters the usual flirty smile on her face. “How would you like me to do that?”

I open my mouth, then close it. It’s my personal experience that a woman knows exactly what’s going to make her come. “Any way thatactuallymakes you come.”

Her bottom lip disappears under the top one. “That’s it? You just want me to orgasm?”

“Yeah.”

“No show?”

“No show.”

She laughs for a brief moment. “I gotta tell you, Cole. It’s not going to be all that interesting.”

Seeing a woman as beautiful as Cherry bring herself to climax? Agree to disagree.

“But, hey, it’s your money.” She pulls at the sides of her dress and drops it beside her. She’s not wearing a bra, only see-through black underwear. “Can I take these off?” she continues as she fits a thumb under the side of her panties.

“Y-yes. Of course.”

Underwear out of the way, she spreads her legs and looks straight at the camera. I don’t know what to focus on first. Her eyes, green and staring straight into mine, or her tightly pebbled nipples. Maybe her pussy. Shaven, pink, freckled.