3. Nasty Texts… At Night
THREE
NASTY TEXTS… AT NIGHT
LYLAH
I’m mid-bite of the sweet and sour chicken I picked up on the way home, when my phone buzzes beside me. I told myself I deserved a treat after how well the interview with Tatum went.
Speaking of the devil.
Tatum
I hope it’s not weird texting you already…
But it was so great getting to meet you today, and I truly can’t put into words how thankful I am that you applied!
Oh my god … she’s texting me.
What do I say back to that? I’m staring at my phone like a fool and chanting to no one but myself, “Play it cool, bitch, play it cool.”
Me
Not weird at all!
I’m so glad I applied.
The read receipt is almost immediate, and the three dots start to load right away.
Tatum
Did you make it home safe?
Me
Yes, and with goodies secured!
I snap a picture of my Chinese food and hit send before I can overthink it.
Tatum
Oh yum!
Then I get an immediate picture response, and it’s of her cookie on a napkin sitting on her lap. I’m quick to type out my response.
Me
Now, all you need is some milk
Why am I this giddy over texting? It’s been years since I’ve been enamored with my phone because of who’s on the other end of it. Now here I am, waiting for a text like a goddamn teenager. And add to it, it’s with my soon-to-be boss… or hot-as- fuck boss, I might add.
Tatum
Don’t worry, I’ve got the milk covered
Hahaha just kidding… maybe
Oh my god, her fucking breast milk… the cherry emoji? Is she flirting with me?
She is, isn’t she?!
What do I do…? How do I play this cool? This is the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, and she’s flirting with me!
Cue the screaming and running around my apartment.
I can’t leave her waiting too long; she’s going to think she’s scared me off, and that’s the last thing she’s done.
Me
You do, don’t you
I don’t know what demon has taken over my body, but they’re steering the ship that is me in this moment. And immediately, my phone vibrates with another text. I look down, but it’s not just a text—it’s a picture—of her tits.
Tatum
Yep. And I do need to pump real quick to relieve some pressure… I’m an overproducer.
Me
So plenty of milk for cookies AND sharing.
I hope I didn’t overstep there, but I’m quick to release the breath I didn’t know I was holding when the next message pops up.
Tatum
Sharing is caring! Gotta run, my client is waiting on me. See you bright and early tomorrow.
I’m sitting here staring at my quickly cooling food, wondering what this woman does for work, having clients this late at night.
But I’ll be figuring that out while living under the same roof.
That thought alone has my pussy practically vibrating with anticipation.
Under no circumstances can I be thinking like this about Tatum, but honestly, she’s the one who started the flirty text, so I shouldn’t feel that bad about it, right?
I’m not even sure if the job is mine yet.
What if she ends up hating me when I move in, or I can’t take care of her child the way she wants me to?
There are so many what-ifs that swirl in my mind as I’m getting undressed and turning the knob on the shower, letting it warm up, then stepping in and relaxing under the water. Before I know it, I’m climbing into my bed and dozing off, hoping I get to dream of my soon-to-be boss.
Pulling into Tatum’s driveway—and hopefully my new driveway for the foreseeable future—I can barely contain my excitement. I’m grabbing my oversized lime green cup, while slinging my purse across my chest, and up the steps to the cute pink door that is so Tatum, knocking on it.
When she opens the door, I’m greeted with a smiling Josie on her Mama’s hip.
I grab Josie’s tiny hand and coo, “Hi, Josie girl, it’s so nice to finally meet the gal of the house.”
She gives me the sweetest giggle, and my gaze is on Tatum now—well, my eyes immediately land on her chest.
Fuck, I’m no better than a man…
She’s in that same black tube top she was wearing last night in the picture she sent me, and her tits look like they’re ready to explode.
Even more than in the picture I still shamelessly have on my phone.
The deep blue veins running through the swollen swells of her breasts have me practically gasping for air.
But she almost looks in pain, so I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, totally fine. I need to feed her, though. We just woke up…” Tatum shyly responds while looking down at her feet. She looks ungodly beautiful to have just rolled out of bed. I would’ve sent her running for the hills if she had seen me this morning fresh from the sheets.
I’m pulled out of my daydream by the loud smacks of Josie hitting the top of Tatum’s boob, babbling, “Bo, bo, bo.”
“That’s my cue,” Tatum jokes. “Come on in. I’m going to feed her real quick.”
She sits down in the reclining chair, which appears to have been made for her, with nursing in mind.
I take up the couch on the opposite side of the spacious living room.
Even trying my hardest not to watch her like a fucking pig, what do I do right as I get settled in?
Direct my attention right to where she’s nursing Josie.
I’ve been around feeding moms more times than I can count, with being a speech pathologist, and not one of those times has anything ever come of it.
But as my eyes lock on Tatum’s, I see the glee in them when she realizes what’s happening and the internal battle I’m so clearly fighting. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring more of your things. Is that an overnight bag?”
“I didn’t want to assume Josie would like me… It’s more of a…weekend bag?”
“I knew she would within the first minute of talking to you yesterday.” Tatum smirks at me and gives me a panty-melting wink .
And what does my whore body do? React by biting my lip.
I’m quick to hide it with a smile, but I can’t deny the pull that Tatum has on me.
Am I worried about moving in and being able to refrain from touching her, or carrying on whatever you want to call this?
Hell yes.
Is it going to stop me from what very well could be my dream job?
Nope—not one bit.