Page 59 of Maxim
Nat
“Hey, get your sexiest shit on, we’re going dancing this evening!”
Jane walks in looking like a pint-sized catwalk model. I have no clue how she’s not completely wrecked after a full week at work plus several hot dates with her mysterious guy.
I look like shit. My sleep is fucked up. I haven’t had a decent night of shut-eye since I slept in Max’s cloud bed after my apartment was trashed. Part of me thinks I should just give in to his requests and stay with him, but the stubborn side of me refuses to get more involved with him than I already am.
Until Mickey sends me some conclusive proof of who Max really is and what he’s involved in, I am determined to stay away.
Not that he’s got the message. He sends me text messages every day and insists on calling me each evening for a “chat”.
Jane thinks it’s hilarious. Amanda too, although she’s been pretty quiet the last couple of weeks. We reckon she’s met a new guy but despite us asking, she refuses to ‘fess up. No doubt we’ll hear all about it eventually, but at least she seems happy.
For now, anyway.
“I’m exhausted, Jane. Can we not just watch Netflix?” I managed to get out of the afternoon editorial meeting because of a dentist appointment, and instead of returning to work, I came back here and took a long, hot bath.
It was supposed to relax me, but unfortunately, now I’m a bit too relaxed.
Jane eyes my hedgehog PJs with distaste even though they’re cute. “No Netflix. We’re not staying in on a Friday night.”
“Don’t you have a hot date with the new man?”
“Nope, he has a work thing on, no partners allowed.”
My ears prick up. “Ooh, so you’re partners now?”
Jane rolls her eyes and ignores my obnoxious air quotes. “I’m not putting a label on it. We’re just fucking.”
Typical Jane. The woman hates being tied down. Kudos to her. I wish I was more free-spirited and I really wish my vag was not infatuated with Max’s dick. It’s an unhealthy relationship for sure. One guaranteed to leave me a broken wreck in the not-too-distant future.
Jane disappears into the bathroom for a shower while I flick through rom-coms on Netflix. I figure she might lose interest in the idea of going clubbing if I find a great movie to watch.
But no, just as I queue up one I haven’t seen yet, she reappears and drops a slinky red dress on my lap.
“Put this on, I’ve booked an Uber for 8 PM.”
“Jane, seriously? I can’t wear this, it’s … indecent!”
“Pfft, you have a great body and it will fit you much better than me.”
I’m not at all convinced but I can tell she’s not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.
***
By 10 PM I reluctantly concede that Jane was right, I needed this. It’s been ages since we went clubbing. Mostly we end up in Leo’s Bar shaking our booties on the small dance floor there.
It’s fun, but not nearly as enjoyable as hitting a proper club with an actual DJ and different music zones.
The red dress Jane insisted I wear barely covers my ass. Or boobs. Frankly, it’s obscene. She claimed to have bought it in an online sale at PrettyLittleThing and couldn’t be bothered sending it back when it didn’t fit well.
I’m not convinced. I suspect she bought it specifically for me, to ensure I wore something she deemed sexy enough for our night out. Jane’s like that. She’s generous, fun-loving, and not inclined to give me space when I’m feeling down.
From the many interested looks I get as we walk toward the bar for another drink, the girl did good. Being ogled isn’t something I’m altogether comfortable with, but it’s nice to know I look hot tonight.
Not that I have any plans to pick up a guy.
Max has taken up all the prime real estate in my head.