Page 7 of Sexting the Boss
Dani: Send the outfit. For science.
I roll my eyes, but my mouth lifts.
Me: I’m literally in my apartment eating pasta.
Jo: Exactly. That’s the scandal. Free the nipple.
I huff a laugh, and the wine makes it feel like a good idea.
Not a nude. Not even close. Just a picture that saysYes, I’m hot, and yes, I’m still broke.
I adjust my blouse, and I angle the camera to catch cleavage without catching too much. I’m not ashamed of my body, and I’m not going to act like my chest is a weapon.
It’s just part of me.
I snap the photo and look at it. My cheeks turn red, because I look good, and I know it.
Then the stupid, reckless thought hits.If I leaned into it, if I used what I’ve got, could I fix my life?
The fantasy is easy when you’re tired and broke and you spend your days watching men with money make decisions that change everyone else’s life.
I type a caption with my thumb.
Me: Should I seduce a rich man or should I just eat pasta forever.
Priya: Seduce.
Jo: Seduce.
Dani: Seduce and then steal his wallet.
I laugh, exit the chat for a moment and take another sip. The buzz in my head turns warm and reckless. I could send the photo to them. They know how to hype me up. So I open the chat again and hit send.
The photo goes through.
For one second, everything is normal. Then my phone shifts in my hand, and the screen refreshes, and the chat header isn’t the girls’ group anymore.
It’s a single name on the top of my screen.
Ethan Cross
My throat closes. “No,” I whisper, and my voice sounds thin in my own kitchen.
I stare at the photo sitting in the thread, my cleavage and my stupid caption hanging there. Panicked, I jab at the screen, because I’m trying to unsend it, but it’s a text, not a miracle. This means I need to do damage control.
Me:Oh my god. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t for you.
My hands shake as I watch the screen. Nothing.
Then it changes.
Read.
I make a sound that isn’t a word as I stare, waiting for the universe to take pity on me, but the universe is busy. A second later, a message comes through, and it’s from my boss.
His reply appears on my screen, and I can’t breathe as I read it.
If you’re going to beg, baby girl…do it properly.
