“You’re obviously not keeping her busy enough.” I wink at him while he glares. “She was mentioning that you haven’t been, you know.” He puts his hands on his hips, and I know he’s getting aggravated. I put my hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger,” I say. The elevator arrives, and he walks into it and presses the button.

“She did mention that she wants more ass play.” I try not to laugh. “You just have to push through the barrier.” I say the last words loudly as the elevator closes. I laugh at myself, walking to the kitchen and making me a coffee and then carrying it to my bedroom. I am getting undressed when my phone rings, and I run to my purse in the hallway.

“Bonjour,” I say to Karrie when I answer.

“Don’t you Bonjour me,” she says, and I chuckle. “I’m mad at you.”

“Why are you mad at me?” I put the phone on speaker and take off my shirt.

“One, what did you tell Matthew?” she asks me, and I can’t hide my laughter anymore.

“Rien pourquoi?” Nothing why, I answer her in French, taking off my pants. Grabbing the phone, I walk to my walk-in closet and go to my drawer, getting another pair of panties.

“He was all foaming at the mouth, asking me if I’m satisfied sexually,” she says. “He went on and on about what he’s going to do to me tonight.”

“Really?” I say, shocked.

“He even asked me if I wanted ass play.” She finally laughs out loud. “You have to stop poking him.”

“But it’s so much fun. I swear when I told him that, the vein in his head was throbbing. I even saw his heartbeat each time.” I laugh now out loud and so does she. “I mean, tonight you are going to get fucked good, so I don’t know why you would be mad about that. You should be thanking me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, taking a drink of something. “But seriously, where the fuck where you? I called you all day, and I mean, all day—at least twice an hour and sometimes four.”

“I was with a friend.” I grab a pair of yoga pants and slip them on.

“A friend,” she repeats. “Does this friend have a name?” I don’t answer her. Instead, I grab a sweater and slip it on. “Does this friend have a huge penis?”

“Good God, Karrie,” I say, grabbing the phone and coffee and walking to my office.

“Is this the same friend who left your vagina bruised?” she says, and I exhale deeply. “Oh my God, you went back for round two.”

“I think it’s round three.” I close my eyes when she shrieks.

“When was round two?” she asks me, and although we spent four days together, she never really asked, and I never really told her.