5. Did We Take it Too Far?
5
DID WE TAKE IT TOO FAR?
B alancing my bags, I manage to open my apartment door after an interminable day at work. Ginger greets me at the door, but with a glare this time.
Meowww.
“I know, I know. I’m late. But to be fair, you only had to wait an extra—” I check the time on my phone. “—forty-five minutes for dinner. Your water bowl is half-full and, even for a Maine Coone, you’re a few pounds overweight. So, no offense, but you can handle a little delay in your dinner.”
I swear she shoots me a look before walking ahead of me into the kitchen.
“I’m not trying to fat shame you. You know I’m all about body positivity here. I just mean to say that?—”
She turns back to hiss softly at me, her tail swooshing in the air as if to say No more excuses, human. Just feed me.
Heaving a sigh, I dump my things on the floor beside the door after locking it behind me and proceed to feed Ginger before even heading to the bathroom. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been dying to pee for the past three subway stops—I’d rather avoid death by cat at this point.
Once I’m settled, I dig into tonight’s dinner: a bag full of Valentine’s Day candy (it was a long day at work and the pink and red wall of two-for-one candy and chocolate at Walgreen’s seemed way too good to pass up).
It’s not like things have been bad at work, but it’s been a lot, that’s for sure. Lena wasn’t joking around when she warned me the stakes had been raised with the Stevenson deal. Our client’s team had liked the preliminary designs so much that they’d increased their orders from five articles of clothing to nine, with a total of twenty SKUs. This meant we had to develop a full high-end and environmentally friendly collection, rather than the experimental pieces we had agreed to start with. This also means that the client has gained a bit more negotiating power, which they used to press us for deeper discounts and shorter turn-around times. We want to impress them, to keep them as clients for next season, so everything has to go just right.
And while more products and a bigger line might seem like a completely wonderful development, our team wasn’t prepared to take on so much work. Each product requires development, tech pack creations which need to be sent to the factories, sample productions, and quality controls—all things that take time, energy, and money. On top of that, they require us to reserve more factory space than expected, which means having to move around lead times for other clients who don’t have as pressing delivery times as Stevenson. And this is all based only on projections. We haven’t even solidified a collection yet! Again, it’s a beautiful dance, but it takes a lot of coordination, and I just need a shot of dopamine in the form of sugar—and the cheap bottle of wine I splurged on when I stopped by a liquor store on my way home.
The entire thing has been an incredible learning experience, where I’ve been absorbing every possible thing I can from working with Lena. It’s taught me that, despite her abrasive personality, she’s incredible. There’s not a single person who doesn’t listen to her in meetings, who doesn’t follow her every word and expression. Lena is a wealth of knowledge and a true force to be reckoned with. It leaves me wondering why the hell she’s stuck in this upper management role and isn’t killing it at the top. Could it be her less-than-sparkling personality? Or has she been passed up for someone better (which seems highly unlikely)? Either way, I took her words to heart and am now trying to absorb any and every single little thing around me.
I’m on my third Reese’s cup and second glass of wine, when he texts.
Will
Hey, you.
Bridget
Hey back! Haven’t spoken to you in a while.
I check the timestamp from our last text exchange, where we challenged ourselves to say how our last meetings went with just a meme (Michael Scott screaming No. No, no no. No a thousand times for him; Meryl Streep playing Miranda Priestly in Devil Wears Prada giving someone a judgmental once-over for me, because not everyone appreciates a good vintage piece in my office).
Bridget
Well, two and a half hours
Will
Two hours is a lot for us tho, isn’t it? At least lately
Bridget
Yeah. Unless we’re sleeping
Will
Nah, I’m convinced I talk to you in my dreams too
A feeling of warmth that’s grown all too familiar lately spreads through me as I reread his words, teeth biting into my lower lip.
I want to run my fingers over his words, feel them sink deep in my skin.
Bridget
Do you think we’re overdoing it?
Will
What do you mean?
Bridget
I mean, we’re like always talking.
Will
Does it bother you? Bc we can stop if you want.
Though I gotta admit I really don’t want to stop.
Bridget
No! I enjoy talking to you. But maybe it’s too much?
Will
Why would we stop doing something we enjoy doing?
I sigh. Ginger opens one eye to check that I’m fine, but immediately falls back asleep with an even more dramatic, dragon-worthy heave.
Bridget
What are you up to? How was your day?
Will
Well, I’m currently on my third beer and second bowl of Cocoa Puffs. So.
Bridget
Oh man. That bad, huh?
Will
Whatever. Could’ve been better; could’ve been worse.
Bridget
That’s the spirit
Will
I just need to stick it out for a few more months and I’m done.
Bridget
What do you mean?
Will
What about you? You out at a fancy happy hour with a bunch of fashionistas? Are you friends with your entire office already?
I snort, the simple image of me out to drinks with Lena almost leading me into hysterical laughter. I don’t miss how he avoids my question, but I answer his instead of pressing him again. Our friendship is relatively new and I don’t want to mess it up by being too pushy.
Bridget
I’m currently in bed drinking wine and eating an industrial amount of Valentine’s Day candy. Definitely not in the partying mood.
Will
So we’re basically in the same boat then.
Bridget
LOL
Will
If you’re eating all the candy tonight, what are your plans for day of, then?
For Valentine’s, I mean.
Bridget
Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking whether I’m seeing someone?
Will
Haha I guess it is
I giggle alone into my wine glass, a thrill coursing through me. It’s honestly so odd we haven’t even touched upon the subject of significant others. I guess, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been too scared to ask.
Bridget
Wouldn’t it be kind of inappropriate for us to talk this much if I was in a relationship?
Will
What do you mean?
Bridget
Well, you’re a dude. And we text each other all day. I wouldn’t be happy if my partner were texting someone from the opposite sex all the time. It just isn’t appropriate.
Unless they were gay. Are you gay?
OMG I’m so sorry that’s not appropriate to ask.
Will
Jfc you need to calm down. LOL
I’m not offended at all by your question.
And I think you know I’m not gay, Bridget
Bridget
What is that supposed to mean?
Will
I am very much straight and single.
Bridget
And ready to mingle? Haha
Will
Maybe.
Bridget
Um, ok.
Will
Do you date much?
I take a beat because this feels like we’re entering dangerous territory. I may have been lying to myself before, but I’m not anymore. I absolutely do have a crush on this man, so this topic of discussion? Probably not something I want to get into. Still, I reply:
Bridget
Not really. Tbh, my dating life has been a notorious nightmare. Despite all the disastrous men I’ve dated, though, I’m still looking for the right guy. But I’ll admit I’m still too much of a romantic for the current dating scene. I blame it on all bad experiences and the old movies and romcoms I grew up watching. That’s kinda the love I’m looking for.
Watching those movies were my favorite hobby to keep myself busy during the long periods of time my Mom was MIA on one of her downward spirals. This was all before Gran knew exactly how bad things were, before Mom died, and before I moved in with the woman who changed my life. I still watch romcoms and old romantic movies, but now it’s because I want to and not because I need someone to keep me company while I’m all alone at home. And that feels better than anyone will ever know.
Will
Oh, yeah? Which movies?
Bridget
IDK. Anything Audrey Hepburn or Nora Ephron.
Will
So movies that are anywhere between 70 to 20 years old?
Bridget
God, SEVENTY???
Will
Yeah, I think. Definitely not about modern love.
Bridget
Yeah, I guess I’m not a fan of modern love. The eighties song, yes. The current state of our dating world, no.
Will
Preach. It’s a nightmare. Nowadays, it’s all about apps.
Bridget
OMG. I can’t deal with apps.
Will
I feel like there’s a fun story there.
Bridget
Doesn’t everyone have one with dating apps?
Will
Yeah, but I only wanna hear yours.
Bridget
*sigh* fine.
Will
Wow. You caved easily haha
Bridget
I mean, it is pretty bananas. So buckle up buttercup.
Will
*clicks seatbelt*
I snort as I fluff my pillows, getting cozier before I hit him with my first and last app dating story:
Bridget
I swiped right on this one guy my very first time using the app. Seemed innocent enough—very guy next door, nothing threatening about the way he looked in his pictures. Five seconds into our conversation, he asked to see a picture of my pussy.
Will
Jesus. I’m opening my fourth bottle of beer after that. I’m sorry on behalf of all men.
What did you do?
Bridget
I sent him a picture of Ginger, just like he asked. LOL. He called me a bitch and a tease even though it was literally our first time talking and I never hinted at anything sexual. Then he blocked me. Needless to say I haven’t been on another dating app since.
Will
Jesus. I don’t blame you.
Bridget
Tho I feel like dating apps have nothing to do with my luck with guys, honestly. I met my most recent ex organically through friends we had in common and he turned out to be a grifter who ruined my life
So
Will
Fantastic. We’re gonna have to circle back to that whole “grifter who ruined my life thing,” tho
Bridget
Wow, ok. I can’t believe you used “circle back” in one of our conversations. You really did have a long day at the office, didn’t you? Too much corporate lingo for one day?
Next thing you know you’re going to tell me we should “sidebar” this conversation before “double-clicking into it” further.
Will
Fuck, I can’t even control myself anymore. I need to get out of this hellhole.
If I ever use the word “synergy” in a sentence, please shoot me. That would be the last straw. It would make things official: I’d be a corporate robot.
The logical part of me knows this would be a great opportunity to ask why he hates work so much. Or why he keeps dodging the question of how he needs to stick it out a little longer and can’t leave now. But there’s a louder part of my brain (or maybe it’s my heart?) that needs to have this conversation:
Bridget
What about you?
Will
What about me?
Bridget
Come on. You know what I mean. Your dating life.
Will
*Sigh*
I’d need to have time for a life at all in order to have the sub-genre of dating.
Bridget
Hahaha good one.
Will
Glad I made you laugh. Tbh, it feels like I fill half my day wondering what it sounds like when you do.
I suck in a breath, my phone shaking in my hands. Did he really just?—?
Will
Most of the time, I’m at work. When I’m not, I’m at the gym. Which means I don’t have the time to take anyone out.
I swallow the lump in my throat, convinced he only meant the thing about my laughter as a passing comment. It had to have been, right?
Bridget
You can multitask. Find someone at work or the gym. You can take her on lunch dates in the office or take a work out class as a date.
Will
Nah. Not interested.
Bridget
So what, you’re just celibate?
Will
I didn’t say that
Bridget
Oh wow. Forget I asked. I thought we were in the same boat.
Will
You’re celibate?
Bridget
I mean, not by choice??
A wildfire spreads across my cheeks. Mortified, I slip beneath my comforter, covering myself as if it could protect me from the embarrassment of admitting that I clearly have not had sex in ages.
Bridget
God why are we even talking about this? I’m mortified. Byeeee.
Will
Stop, don’t be ridiculous. We can talk about anything. You know that.
This is a safe space.
LOL
I snort, feeling a bit more relaxed. And that’s the thing about Will: no matter what, he manages to appease me, keep me calm. It’s not the words he uses but something about how well we understand each other.
But I won’t deny the wine is playing a part in this whole thing, though.
Bridget
Nope. We’re not talking about this.
Will
Fine.
Bridget
Fine.
Will
Fine.
…
But don’t you miss it, though?
Bridget
Miss what?
Will
Sex.
Something about seeing the word on the screen, it finally popping up in our conversations, sends a current of electricity up and down my spine.
My breathing quickens, pulse races. I feel the blush creeping up my neck once again as I consider what to reply. Normal Bridget would play it cool, but two-and-a-half-glasses-of-cheap-wine Bridget just… doesn’t. She’s over this unspoken tension between us.
Bridget
Yes. I do.
More so lately.
Especially since you came blazing into my life out of nowhere.
Will
I could help with that.
Scorching heat sears my skin, an ache so deep and low in my stomach I can barely breathe. Is he…? Am I…? Are we about to…?
“Fuck it,” I whisper, telling myself I’ll blame it on the alcohol in the morning. I knock back the rest of my wine and place the glass on my nightstand.
Bridget
Oh, yeah? How would you help when we’re in completely different places?
But I’m obviously not an idiot and just playing coy.
Will
I’d can start by telling you I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day.
That I haven’t stopped imagining what you look like naked. How you’d taste on my tongue.
Would that help?
I struggle to pull oxygen in my lungs, half-gasping with each breath. Unable to take the heat, I throw the covers off onto the floor and scoot farther down the bed. I let the fingers of my left hand travel with a delicate touch up and down my chest while I hold my phone and type with the right.
Will
Would it help to say that I’ve come to the thought of your pretty lips around my cock every morning this week? It’s the first thing I think about when I wake up.
Bridget
You’ve never even seen me in real life. How do you know what my lips look like?
Will
Because I just do. And it’s all I fucking want. To feel the inside of your mouth with my cock.
Now
Bridget
How is you admitting all this supposed to help ME?
Of course I know what he’s doing, but I want him to know that I need the direction, that I want him to tell me what to do.
Will
Take two fingers and put them in your mouth. I want you to pretend they’re my cock.
“Oh my god.”
But still, I moan, bringing my fingers to my mouth as I wait for his next message to arrive. Something in the back of my mind screams, warns me I’m being crazy, but my brain is covered in a fog of lust and want and need and can’t listen to reason. I need release.
Will
You there?
Bridget
Yes. Fingers. Mouth.
Will
Good. I just pulled out my cock and am imagining my hand is your mouth as I fuck my fist.
I do as he asks, but I take it one step further: I imagine being in front of him on my knees, taking him as he guides his cock into my mouth. My hands are on his hips, his fingers tangled in my hair as he sets the rhythm, his taste on my tongue. The need to bring my fingers to where I’m pulsating between my legs is nearly painful, but I hold back, waiting for his instructions. Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait much longer.
Will
Now I want you to be a good girl, take those two fingers, and drag them over your body all the way down to that pretty little clit. I want you to start rubbing circles outside of it. You’re not going to do anything more than that now, are you? You’re gonna be a good girl and listen to me. I don’t want you to come yet.
Bridget
Yes. I promise.
Following his orders, I slowly drag my wet fingers down my body, down my neck, over my seventies silk blouse in between my breasts, and over my stomach. When I reach my hips, I unbutton my high-waisted jeans and slip a hand beneath my underwear, doing exactly as he says. Wetness has pooled between my thighs and, for a moment, I almost panic. I’m sexting with a man I’ve never met before and escalated so quickly, and am I fucking insane , and what if?—
Will
You have my permission to touch it now, Bridge. But don’t come yet. You understand?
The relief is almost immediate, but all too soon I’m on the verge of coming, so I pull away. Even though I know he would never know whether I came or not, I do as he says. Panting, I pull my hand away while I settle down before letting myself play again, feeling the wetness on my lips, my underwear completely soaked.
Will
In my head, I have you on all fours, face down, Bridge. I’m eating you from behind and you taste so fucking sweet.
I lose my mind thinking about it every day
Space out in meetings thinking about this and you and doing it in real life.
I arch off the mattress on a moan, eyes rolling to the back of my head as I try to keep myself together or risk exploding into a million pieces. He hasn’t given me permission to come yet and I’m way too close. When I open my eyes, I see my freckled chest is flushed red and covered in a sheen of sweat, glittering beneath the overhead lighting of the apartment. I imagine feeling him moving on top of me, running my hands up and down his back, feeling his skin beneath my finger tips.
Will
What’s wrong? Can’t type back? Too busy?
Come on. Tell me what you’re doing. How you feel.
Bridget
Wet
Will
Yeah you fucking are
Bridget
I’m frustrated
Will
Why
Bridget
Because I want that. I want your cock and your mouth and your hands and you aren’t the only one who thinks about it.
And I want to come to your voice and feel you above me. I want you to surround me. I want you to pin me down.
I want you to do whatever you want with me
Will
Oh, I will, Bridget. One of these days I fucking will. You can count on that.
Another swipe of my fingers over my clit and I nearly explode, having to squeeze my eyes shut to keep my release. I grit my teeth, every muscle in my body as tense as a bowstring.
Bridget
I need to come.
Please let me come
Will
Normally I’d make you wait, but I’m so fucking hard, so close to coming just thinking about you like this, alone in bed, getting off to thoughts of me
Fuck, baby. Come. Come all over your hand but pretend it’s my face.
“Oh my god! Will!” I cry out into my apartment, breaking into a million little pieces and being put back together in the same second. I come harder than I’ve ever come by myself, writhing alone on my mattress as thoughts of Will—this faceless, incredible man—fill every corner and crevice of my mind. An electric current travels through my body, every nerve on my skin a live wire aching to be touched. I’m sticky with sweat and come, and gasping for breath as I try to recover.
Will
I need you to fucking tell me what you taste like
I’m gonna dream about this for months, Bridget. For fucking months.
And suddenly it’s like a bucket of cold water is thrown over my overheated, sweaty body.
What the hell did I just do ?
The fall from the high comes just as quickly as it arrived, crashing me into reality as I become aware of the magnitude of what just happened: I just sexted the person I’ve grown closest to, and potentially ruined what’s felt like the most honest and dependable friendship I’ve ever had. Except he’s also a complete stranger.
I am a fucking idiot.
With a groan, I roll over onto my side, my jeans open and just below my hips, and cry quiet tears into my pillow. I throw my phone onto the floor, ignoring it as a symphony of incessant vibrations coming from my phone fills the room.
Gripping my pillow with both hands, I whisper four words I never thought I’d ever say in relation to Will: “Please, stop texting me.”