I laughed as I slipped on my jacket and buttoned the only button there was, exposing the lace on my bra and the enticing cleavage it created. I twisted up my long blonde hair with a clip and turned to Kirsty.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I pictured George Clooney fucking me in order to achieve them.”
She giggled. “You have the most perfect tits. I wish I had tits like you. All I have are these size B cups,” she said as she looked down and pushed them together through her top.
“Get a boob job?” I smiled as I put my feet into my black Jimmy Choo’s with the four-inch heels.
“I just might.”
“Bullshit. You’re too scared,” I said as I left the room and she followed behind.
“True. But then maybe James would notice me more.”
I sighed. “Give it up, Kirsty. He’s too old for you.”
“Only by twelve years. When you’re our age, that doesn’t matter anymore.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bagel and briefcase from Rosa, and headed to the car. James opened the door for me, and I slid in while Kirsty got in on the other side.
“We’re going to be late,” she said.
“We’ll be fine,” I replied as I pulled out my phone. “Hmm. I have a text message from Don. He wants to meet up tonight. Apparently, there’s a new art gallery opening, and he wants me to attend it with him.”
“I don’t like him,” Kirsty said.
“You don’t like any of the guys I know.”
“True. But he creeps me out. He has those creepy eyes. You know; like a child molester.”
I smacked her on the arm. “He does not. He’s a good guy. Rich, successful, and a no-strings type of playboy.”
“Child molester,” she said as she shook her head.
* * *