Page 205 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
By the time we pulled up to the building, I was lying flat across the seat, enjoying the ass prints of New Yorkers from all over the city. Quickly, I paid, got out of the cab with some tricky finessing, holding my breath so I didn’t pop anything open, and jogged to the elevator.
The short trip from the taxi to the elevator seemed like a mile as I held on to the side of the metal rail and enjoyed the twenty-two-floor ride up. Damn kid was sucking in all of my oxygen, leaving nothing for me.
As the elevator approached the designated floor, I straightened up and fiddled with my hair, using the reflection of the metal to gauge my look.
It wasn’t helpful at all.
The elevator doors opened to a room full of executives and partygoers, dressed in black suits and colorful dresses. They all had drinks in their hands and were animatedly talking to each other. The room was decorated simply with white and black flowers. Waiters in black button-up dress shirts and black ties milled about the room, offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres. My mouth watered as a tray full of shrimp passed by me. I would be getting my fingers on one of those bad boys in a bit.
In the sea of black, it was hard to locate Henry. It wasn’t until I scooted farther into the room that I found him talking to his boss, Eric, and of course . . . Tasha. From a distance, I observed them together. She was incredibly gorgeous in a red turtleneck dress that clung to every part of her thin body. Her arms were perfectly toned, and surprisingly, her boobs were covered, except for the keyhole in her dress that just so happened to fall over the line of her cleavage.
She conversed easily with Henry and Eric, touching Henry’s arm occasionally while she laughed. It took everything in me not to shove my heel through her eye socket.
Their interactions almost seemed so incredibly natural, as if they were made for each other, and at that moment, I no longer felt sexy. I felt like the frumpy girlfriend who was too big to fit in her dress. Tears started to well in my eyes, and before they could fall over and ruin my makeup, I dashed off to the bathroom, where I locked myself in a stall and took deep breaths.
Needing some encouragement, I dialed Delaney on my phone and prayed she picked up.
On the second ring, she answered, “Hello?”
“Delaney, I can’t do this. She’s so pretty and I barely fit in my dress. What was I thinking when I chose this outfit? I look like a stuffed sausage trying to expand out of its casing.”
“Are you insane?” Delaney said before I could say anything else. “You look gorgeous, Rosie. You look sexy as hell, and the minute Henry sees you, he will fall at your feet. Now, have you put the balls in yet?”
“No,” I replied quietly.
A long, drawn-out breath sounded over the phone. “Rosie, I am going to cancel my bachelorette party tomorrow and blame everything on you if you do not put those balls in your vagina. I’m telling you, the minute you whisper into Henry’s ear about clenching his cock, he’ll take you home immediately. It will be Boner City and his dick will name you mayor.”
“Men really like that?”
“You tell me? What do your books say?”
“You always say they’re fiction and don’t count as real life,” I countered.
“They are fiction, but men’s responses in those books are mostly spot on. Are you going to be adventurous and turn up the heat in your relationship or just sit back and watch Tasha talk to your man?”
I pulled out the Ben Wa balls and stared at them. I could do this. “I’m going to be adventurous.”
“That’s my girl,” Delaney cheered. “Call me later. Love you.”
She hung up before I could ask her any questions, most likely because she was in the middle of her own sexual adventures.
Mustering courage, I grabbed the lube, pulled down my underpants and lifted my dress up around my waist.
Being a lube virgin, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the thin liquid, so, I popped the top open, squatted ever so slightly with my legs spread as much as they could go, thanks to my underwear, and I pressed the lube up near my vagina. Taking a deep breath, I squeezed hard and shot the lube straight up into Virginia.
A cold wave of thin liquid coated my inner walls right before gravity took hold of it and brought it back down, straight into my underwear, my now appointed lube net.
“Crap,” I muttered, looking at the pile of liquid in the crotch of my panties.
Bottle and balls in my hands, I stared at the mess and tried to decide what to do. The heaviness of the lube weighed down my underwear, so I shimmied them down my legs and toed them to the side to pick up after.Commando was sexy, I told myself.
Still eyeing the balls, I convinced myself I could do this. How hard could it really be? Taking a deep breath, I prayed there was enough lube still coating Virginia and slipped the first ball in. Easily I pushed it up and was pleased with the way it fit. With a little more confidence, I thumbed the second one inside and clenched. A small vibration rang through me . . . Well, wasn’t expectingthat.
“Isn’t that delightful?” I said to myself.
Standing there, I felt comfortable; I could totally do this. More confident, I deposited my underwear and the empty lube bottle in the sanitary napkins trash can—sorry, cleaning service—and wiped my hands with some toilet paper so I didn’t slick down the door handle.
Flushing the toilet, I exited, walking very slowly to the sink. With every step, my confidence wavered. I had to really think about each push forward, clenching as tight as I could, praying I didn’t strain my damn cervix.
