I texted back, You’re a pro at posing for the camera. Asha happy with it?

She is. I may have gotten a lecture about sticking my hands up skirts on a first date, but she pulled those pictures.

I was about to respond when ellipses appeared.

This one is my favorite…

He sent a picture that showed us sitting together with my feet on his lap and his hands rubbing my calf. I looked ready to melt with pleasure, eyes locked on his. I had lady wood all over again just looking at it.

I typed, My body language isn’t giving away that I’m faking it this time…

Oh, it’s giving you away, sweetheart.

I refused to take that bait. I put my phone down and glanced up to find Leigh trying to hand me a glass of scotch.

She looked shrewdly down at my phone. “What are you smiling about?”

“A girl can’t be happy?” I smiled and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“You know what I mean. What’s with…” She waved her hand in a circle indicating my face. “The glowy happy thing. Who are you so busy texting you can’t even figure out what suit we’re bidding?”

“No one special.”

She blinked at me disbelievingly. “Uh-huh…”

I took my drink and we moved through to the living room with the others. We clinked our glasses together, two with scotch and two with iced tea.

“How’s work, Elena?” Jane asked. They all knew what I did and were always eager to hear tidbits from the dungeon.

“Work is good. Busy as always. What’s new with you guys?”

Margo said, “Ellie had the baby and everyone is doing well, so I’m finally a great-grandma. I’ve never felt so inadequate about my inability to knit. Aren’t great-grandmas legally required to knit or something?”

Leigh laughed. “Just buy something on Etsy and they’ll assume you made it. That’s what I do.”

I tried to stay engaged in the conversation, but I kept thinking about Alex’s last text. I grappled for maturity, but couldn’t help retaliating. What was it about him that made me want to misbehave?

I texted back, They were blue.

Would he figure out I was talking about my panties from the night before? My heart raced nervously like I had never sent a boy a naughty message before. Not at all like I was an elite sex worker. There was a minute-long pause before another message appeared: Like my balls.

I smirked, but left it at that. This was going to quickly devolve into sexting and I wasn’t going there. I focused on what Jane was saying.

“It’s our fiftieth anniversary and people keep asking us the secret to staying married that long. No one likes it when my answer is separate bank accounts and lots of sex.”

We all laughed.

Annoyingly, I kept glancing at my phone to see if he’d sent anything else. More annoyingly, my heart skipped a beat when another notification finally appeared onscreen.