Meet Me at Midnight

The ride up in the elevator is quiet. Well, besides Avery’s gabbing, that is.

I don’t know what she’s talking about, my brain too focused on not looking at Beau as we ascend toward our floor to be able to process the words racing out of her mouth like a sprinter out of the gate.

Tonight at the club was…strange. Confusing and anxiety-inducing, all thanks to that witch Bethany and my best friend’s current obliviousness to Beau’s and my relationship. And clearly, the latter is all your fault.

An odd mix of exasperation and guilt settles into my lungs and wants to escape in the form of a sigh, but I swallow it down. I can feel Beau’s eyes on me. It’s something you simply know is happening when you’ve spent half your life in love with a guy.

I steal a glance; I can’t help it, and the secret smile he flashes at me makes my heart pound against my ribs.

From the pit of low to the soaring high I go, and it’s safe to say things are becoming more and more complicated.

The elevator dings its arrival, and all three of us step off the cart. Beau, always the gentleman, making a gesture to go first.

“So Beau, what do you think?” Avery asks, and Beau just chuckles.

“I’ll be honest, Ave, I didn’t hear a fucking word you just said.”

“Excuse me?” she asks, and when she glances at me, my body tenses up. Lord knows I haven’t heard a word she said either.

“Good night, ladies,” Beau says, pulling Avery’s attention back to him—thank goodness—as he steps up to his door and pulls out his keys.

“That’s it?” Avery questions. “What if what I was saying was really important?”

“Was it?” Beau questions with a challenging tilt of his head.

“I guess you’ll never know,” Avery sing-songs and Beau just shrugs.

“Okay.” He unlocks the door to his apartment. “Good night, ladies.”

“God, you’re such an old man!” Avery groans, but Beau just flashes a grin and walks inside his condo and shuts the door.

I unlock the door to our condo, stepping inside, and Avery follows. She heads straight for the kitchen and tosses her purse onto the marble island.

“Gahh, tonight was the best, wasn’t it?” she questions and plops down onto one of the stools. “I swear DJ Andre is so good, he has to be a part of the illuminati.”

“What?” I ask on a shocked laugh.

“You know…sold his soul to the devil for fame and stuff.”

I shake my head as she heads to the fridge and grabs a bottle of Fiji water. She won’t drink any lesser brand, and even at that, she turns up her nose at the cheapness of the bottle. “Ugh. I just don’t understand why they wouldn’t use all glass bottles.”

I shrug. “Probably because of cost.”

“What a stupid reason,” she scoffs, but she takes a drink anyway.

“Avery, honey,” I say through a soft laugh. “You’ve never had to worry about money when it comes to groceries, but other people do.”

“Not you,” she challenges.

“No, not me. My parents have gifted me with all the things money can buy and, still, look at me. Certified proof that money doesn’t buy happiness or love.”

“Screw them,” Avery says to that, setting her bottle on the counter and walking toward me. “Use what they gave you and forget the rest.” She pulls me in for a hug that doesn’t quite make sense when combined with her words. “You are in a position of privilege. You can do what you want with it.”

“Yeah.” I shrug again. “I guess you’re right.”

Seriousness sufficiently spent, she chucks me on the shoulder before picking her bottle back up and heading for her bedroom. “Okay, then. I’m gonna go diddle my doodle to fall asleep. Toodle-oo until tomorrow!”

Goodness, she’s crazy.

I watch her retreat all the way down the hallway, and I don’t stop looking in that direction until I hear her door fall closed. Instantly, as if it’s a premeditated routine—probably because it freaking is—I pull my phone out of my purse and open my Midnight chat with Beau. I hate that we didn’t get to kiss goodbye, but messaging is at least something.

ElizaBeth: Are you still awake over there?

Not even ten seconds later, my phone vibrates in my hands.

ThunderStruck: We just got home. Of course I’m still awake.

ElizaBeth: I hate that we didn’t get to have a real goodbye.

Trust me, I know there’s a host of other things I should be thinking about right now, very serious things I should be focused on—like how I’m going to tell Avery the truth about Beau and me—but my Beau-craving body has something else in mind.

ThunderStruck: Oh yeah? What would you have done if Avery hadn’t been with us?

My answer is immediate.

ElizaBeth: Kissed you.

ThunderStruck: And then?

ElizaBeth: I’m not sure I would have been in charge.

ThunderStruck: Why not? You in charge sounds sexy. In fact, maybe you should be in charge right now. Go into your bedroom and get on your bed, and we can put each other to sleep with a little sexy messaging.

Oh boy. I’m already walking to my bedroom and shutting the door behind me.

ElizaBeth: It’s a damn shame you can’t undress me right now.

ThunderStruck: Fuck. What’s your underwear look like?

ElizaBeth: What underwear?

ThunderStruck: Fuuuck, June. You know what? I think we should scrap the message idea and you come over here instead.

ElizaBeth: No way. I’m already excited about touching myself while you tell me what to do.

ThunderStruck: You’re a danger to society saying shit like that. Fuck. I might burn this building down just so you have to go outside.

I giggle. But my body also burns with anticipation as I take off my clothes and slide under the covers of my bed.

ElizaBeth: Tell me what to do, Beau.

ThunderStruck: You’re naked?

ElizaBeth: Yes.

ThunderStruck: Wait, give me a minute to join you.

I listen to him moving on the other side of my wall until the noise stops, and I know he’s there, on his bed. My mind instantly envisions him with his hard dick in his hand and, at the visual, a deliciously deep throb pulses between my thighs.

ElizaBeth: Are you hard?

ThunderStruck: It should be illegal to be this hard.

My cheeks heat and my body hums, and I fist my comforter with my left hand while I send him another message with my right.

ElizaBeth: Tell me where to touch myself.

ThunderStruck: Start with your thighs. Just barely touch yourself, enough to tickle, sliding your fingertips up until you get to the center. Don’t touch too much, though. Just a tease.

I do as he says, my head falling back with a thud against the wall I know he has to hear.

ThunderStruck: Are you wet, baby?

I touch myself, right there, just barely, my index finger sliding lightly through my arousal.

ElizaBeth: Yes.

ThunderStruck: Good. Add a little pressure, then rub your clit in a slow circle. Let me hear you.

I do as he says, moaning when the pleasure from the touch to my clit runs up my spine and down to my toes.

ElizaBeth: It feels too good.

ThunderStruck: My cock is so fucking hard for you.

As if that message wasn’t enough to push me closer to the edge, the second one seals the deal.

ThunderStruck: Put your phone down and stick two fingers in your wet pussy. And rub yourself faster while you use your fingers as a replacement for my cock. I’ll stroke and listen, I promise.

Exhaling a deep breath, I set the phone down like he says and concentrate on touching myself. Two fingers of my right hand inside, I stroke at the inner wall while circling my clit with the fingers of my left. I thought it’d be a cheap excuse for Beau’s real touch, for Beau’s perfect cock, but I’m so fucking turned on, it doesn’t even matter.

I groan as my pleasure builds, and I hear Beau curse on the other side of the wall. I imagine his strokes moving faster up and down the hard length of his cock, and I have to lick my lips to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head.

“Beau,” I moan softly, keeping my voice at a level that I know Avery won’t hear from her bedroom, and the sound of him groaning spurs me further.

Faster and faster, I spin my fingers around my clit and stroke myself inside, my head rocking against the wall as I climb toward my climax. It feels almost impossibly good.

I come with a small shout, and he follows shortly after, the sound of his muffled, “Fuck,” vibrating all the way through my chest. I lie there for a long moment catching my breath, and from the lack of movement on the other side of the wall, I suspect he’s doing the same.

I pick up my phone and type out a message.

ElizaBeth: Holy hell.

ThunderStruck: Yeah. Tomorrow night, I’m going to need the real thing.

ElizaBeth: Me too.

I know we’re headed for a train wreck, but there’s no stopping this now.