Page 27 of Savage in the Sheets
Forcing a smile, I say, “Hey, what can I do ya for?”
“I was just wondering if you know why Jenna canceled our date?”
My brow draws inward in mock surprise. “Jenna? Canceled? I had no idea.”
His shoulders slump, and guilt needles my gut. Barry’s a good guy, and I never intended to cock block him, but my ‘tutoring’ session with Jenna is not something I could pass up.
“Well, if ya hear anything, please pass it along.”
Barry walks off, and I return my attention to the text, bursting into laughter when I realize that I’ve been worried about sounding crass when Jenna herself was as blunt as a sailor.
My phone vibrates with a new text.
Jenna:I’ve only done it to two men before.
I swallow hard, unsure of what she’s getting at, and not wanting to say the wrong thing and ruin my chance of being her third.
Weston:okay…
Jenna:Just don’t be mad at me if I bite the head off or something.
I wince at her words.
Weston:Bite the head off? Like, has that happened before? Do I need to make sure my insurance is up to date?
Jenna:No. I’m just really nervous.
Weston:Don’t get yourself worked up over it. We’ll see where Friday leads.
Friday. How the hell am I going to last until Friday?
My mind recalls the soft curves of her body. Her tangle of red hair. Her breathy sighs.
Hopefully, Friday will lead to levels of pleasure normally unachievable to mankind…and not to the ER.
Jenna
For the fifth time since getting off work, I check to make sure I have the day right.
Thursday. Fuck!
Friday can’t come quick enough. In just twenty-four hours, I’ll be throat-deep in my next tutoring session—see what I did there?
God, I’m so lame.
Seven outfits are spread out on my bed, waiting for the next round of elimination. I’ve already axed a pair of jeans, a long skirt, shorts, a spring romper, and my never-trendy overalls. I’m left with various skirts and dresses that sit anywhere from dangerously high, which Angela forced upon me, to down to my knee. Some are skin tight; others are flowing. Most are flirty; a few are downright scandalous.
Go with flirty. This isn’t the main course, and you don’t want to look too desperate.
Usually, when I’m in doubt about an outfit, I’ll slip it on and send a picture to Angela and Weston, asking for their opinions. But Angela would just tell me to answer the door in crotchless panties, and sending one to Weston is out of the question.
Who says you can’t ask Weston? He is your tutor, after all.
It shouldn’t take some act of bravery to ask Weston what he thinks about my outfit. It never seemed to before.
Maybe it’s time I challenge myself since I’m trying to break out of my ‘Rosie Jetson’ mold.
I go to my drawer and pull out something that was not on the menu—a full-coverage black bra and a long-sleeved fishnet shirt that lands just under my breasts. Then I slip into a pair of denim cut-offs and finish off the outfit with thigh-high black leather boots.
