“That’s okay. You’ve known her since you were Maddy’s age. But I still know more about you than anyone else, including Wren.”
“You think so?” I taunted.
“Yeah. I mean, I know everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“You’re gonna have to prove it,” I said.
“And you’re gonna have to wait.” She grinned, rolled to her feet, and disappeared into the bathroom.
* * *
The bathroom door opened, and I realized that my feet were vulnerable. I was lying on my back with my head on the pillow and my fingers laced behind my head. I resisted the urge to squirm, but Allie wasn’t in the mood for mischief.
“Oh, my,” she drawled, “aren’t you a sight.”
I chuckled at her delivery but then smiled, almost a leer. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”
“I’m not usually the jealous type, but… mmm-mmm!”
“I know what you mean.”
“You’re jealous of Christy too?”
“Ha! No, I was always jealous of Ken.”
Allie snorted in derision. Then she moved out of the shadow of the doorway and into the light from the window. She paused to look through the blinds, but it was really an excuse to let me admire her.
She must have done some modeling in the past, because she knew to keep her chin up and shoulders back, which made her chest stand out. She even managed to look seductive when she crawled onto the bed, although her expression dissolved into a grimace.
“How am I supposed to sit? Never mind. You’ve seen everything anyway, and you’re still here, so…” She sat cross-legged but frowned again.
“What? I can’t really see anything. Not unless…”
I raised my head to see over her crossed legs. Her outer labia parted enough to show her thin inner lips, but nothing more. They were still slightly pink, although it looked like her natural color instead of arousal. The rest of her bikini area was so pale that the difference was more obvious.
“No, not that,” she said. “I don’t care about being modest. I meant they never show this part in books. After the afterglow, sitting awkwardly, wondering what to talk about.” She paused. “Wondering if we made a mistake.”
I rolled to face her and propped my head on my fist. “I don’t think we did. Do you?”
“No,” she said quickly. “But… I thought you might’ve. Especially now that…” She sighed. “Okay, maybe I am worried about the way I look.”
“I think you look great.”
“Even if my ass is too wide and tits aren’t where they’re supposed to be?”
I knew what she meant, but I played dumb anyway.
“You mean… in bed with me?” I reached out and caressed her nipple. She didn’t bat me away, so I pinched gently. She replied with a low sigh of pleasure. “See? Everything’s right where it’s s’posed to be.”
“Thank you.”
Time to change the subject, the little head said. He was fairly perceptive when he wasn’t horny.
Allie read my distraction but not its source. “What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that you have bigger things to worry about.”
“Bigger? Like what?”
“You made some pretty outrageous claims before you ran away—”
“‘Ran away’? I didn’t run away! I had to pee!”
“Yeah, whatever,” I teased.
“I did! What? You want me to prove it? How much I know? Okay, how’s this…? You like getting your dick sucked.”
“That’s easy!” I laughed.
“You like women who swallow.”
Duh. Who doesn’t?
“You like things smooth, down below, no matter how much it hurts.”
“At least I’m not a chauvinist about it. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
I’d switched from shaving to waxing several years earlier. Christy liked the results better, and Leah agreed, so my wishes didn’t really matter. Happy wife, happy life, right? (I don’t have a snappy saying for “Happy lover who’s practically a second wife.” I’ll work on that. But later, hmm?)
“Besides,” I added to Allie, “it gets easier the more you do it. Well, less painful.”
“I hope so. At least I can do something about the situation down there. I can’t do anything about these… poor things. Unless I get surgery.”
I shivered theatrically and shook my head. “They’re perfect. I mean, I can touch ’em.” I suited action to words, and Allie suffered my groping with a half-tolerant, half-amused smile.
“Well, you’re a breast man,” she said. “Obviously.”
“I like women. The whole package.”
“Maybe, but only a certain type.”
“Oh?”
“Bisexual.”
I raised my eyebrow, but she ignored the question.
“You like them submissive, too. Maybe not damsels in distress, but not bossy types.”
“I don’t mind bossy women, but—”
“Not in bed.”
“Guilty as charged, I suppose.”
“You like piercings, obviously, but not tattoos.”
“I like yours,” I said quickly. She had a heart-shaped ink bottle and a fountain pen on her left ankle.
“Thank you.” She paused and thought back with a frown.
“What’s the matter?”
“I learned most of that from you. Christy added details, but most are things you told me. Well, ‘told’ is the wrong word, but I learned them from flirting with you.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m sure you—”
“You like bondage.”
My eyebrows shot up. I normally didn’t flirt about that.
“But only because Christy does,” she confirmed. “She likes discipline, and she likes being choked.”
My stunned silence was a confirmation of sorts, and Allie warmed to her revelations.
“She doesn’t like anal, which is a little surprising when you think about it.” Her lips compressed in a wry smile. She had me hooked, and she knew it. “Because she likes pain, even though you don’t. Well, not really, but you do it because she does. It’s okay, you can admit it. I told you, we talk about everything.”
“Evidently.”
“She doesn’t sleep with other people, but that’s her code word for ‘having sex.’”
“Penis in vagina,” I confirmed, and Allie nodded.
“You do, though.” She glanced around at the room, down at the bed, and then at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Let’s see,” she mused in a singsong, “what else do I know? You don’t mind a friendly blowjob, but you don’t sleep around, and you won’t sleep with anyone you work with.”
“No.”
“You sound so firm when you say it, so… determined.” Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “But you’re willing to bend the rules. Oh, I know all about it. Or should I say her.”
I cocked my head with feigned curiosity. “Her?”
“The intern?”
“Which one? We have—”
“Tiffanie.”
I sighed. I didn’t see any reason to keep up the evasions, especially when she knew her name, but I wanted to set the record straight.
“Former intern.”
“But current girlfriend.”
“Friend-friend,” I countered.
“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you? Still?”
We’d hired Tiffanie the year before as one of the company’s first summer interns. She’d been a fourth-year at Tech, cute and kind of geeky, with a cheerleader’s personality more than an artist’s.
At first I thought she was style over substance, but the rest of the interview changed my mind. She had the spark, all right, and she was our top choice, along with a third-year from UGA. They worked for us for ten weeks, and Tiffanie impressed everyone, from CAD operators to department heads.
I enjoyed working with her, but our relationship had been strictly professional, even when she started flirting when we were alone. Her outfits changed too, tighter tops and shorter skirts. She didn’t do anything so obvious that Shari or the other women would notice, but she always found a way to remind me that she had a nice body. She even started dropping hints about “personal mentoring,” after hours, of course.