Page 9 of Afternoon Delight

Meg

“I made my first sale!” I bragged to Georgia when she called that evening. “A clit stimulator.”

Ali had come back after her shift. By then, she’d done some research, and I had too.

We compared notes and, after a little more browsing, she settled on a model that attached to her finger.

It cost less than thirty dollars. I was proud as punch, and she looked like a kid who’d gotten exactly what she wanted for Christmas.

“Doesn’t it feel great to make the world a better place, one orgasm at a time?” Georgia teased.

“Can I paint that on the wall? Live, Love, Orgasm? Oh, hey—Mom came by and has some great ideas for the window. I’ll send you a photo tomorrow, and you can let us know if we’re on the right track with your vision.”

I heard a small hitch in her breath.

“George? Am I overstepping?” Shit. “You’re right about the two of us being way too keen when we’ve got a project. I won’t do anything you don’t like.”

“It’s not that. I appreciate the enthusiasm, I do, but I’m having a shitty day. They’re delaying my surgery because they want another specialist to weigh in.”

“Nooo. For how long?”

“I don’t know, but I had wrapped my head around it happening soon, and now I have to wait and...” She sniffed. “What if they find something else? What if they say I have to live like this? What if they cancel everything and tell me to put my affairs in order?”

I gripped the phone harder. “Have they said any of that?”

“No,” she admitted sullenly. “They’re hoping they can use a different procedure that’ll be less invasive. They say I’ll recover faster, but my paranoid brain is convinced I shouldn’t buy any green bananas.”

My chin crinkled under a pained smile. I loved that she always kept her sense of humor, but my heart had sunk into my churning stomach. I resisted the urge to tell her not to worry. Everything about what she was going through was terrifying.

“You’re trying to brace for all possibilities. I get that,” I said gently.

“Yeah. And I don’t have the bandwidth to care about what happens at the store, which makes me so sad. I read the posts you sent me. They’re fine. I won’t rewrite anything.” She took another shaky breath. “Make it clear that you’re running things—and run it. Is that okay?”

“Of course. But...” I wished I could do more for her. “Do you want me to keep sending photos and updates? Or is that too much for you right now?”

“You can send stuff. I’ll answer when I can, but don’t expect too much. I need to let go of the store for now.”

“Okay.” The weight of my role settled crushingly on my shoulders, even as I promised, “Don’t worry at all. Focus on yourself. The shop will be here when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Meg.” I heard her swallow.

“Thank you . I’m having fun with it.” I sipped the wine I’d brought to my room after dinner. It burned behind my aching heart.

“Which one was it?” she asked, her voice a little steadier.

“Which what?”

“The clit stimulator.”

“Oh.” I told her the brand.

“That’s a popular one. It’s good, too. Reliable.”

“Is it creepy that I asked her to report back on whether it works for her?” I hadn’t, but I’d wanted to.

“Yes,” Georgia sputtered. “Respect a customer’s privacy, Meg! But also tell me what she says.”

We both laughed.