Femme Fatale-ish by Misha Bell

Author:Misha Bell [Bell, Misha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mozaika Publications

When Olive and I get home from the bar, we’re both tipsy. Fabio is a lot bigger than we are, and we made the age-old mistake of keeping up with him on the number of drinks.

“Good night,” I say to Olive.

“Sleep tight,” she says, her speech slightly slurred.

I go to my room and find Machete passed out on the floor.

Huh. The laser pointer is still dancing around the walls. I guess the “tire out” option is meant for an energetic kitten and is too much for this large beast.

Machete is not sleeping. He’s in stealth mode, looking for a victim to shred.

I hide poor Bill in the closet and am reaching up to take off my wig when my phone pings with a text.

It’s Max.

Are you awake?

My heart rate skyrockets. I’d almost accepted the possibility of him ghosting me, so this is an exciting surprise.

Grinning, I type out: Nope. I’m just snoring so loudly my phone spontaneously texts people.

Max’s next text tempers my enthusiasm:

Do you have a minute to talk?

Is this it? Will he tell me we’re over? He does seem like too much of a gentleman to simply stop calling.

Fine. We might as well talk. Hopefully, this will be like ripping off a Band-Aid… from an aroused clit.

Phone or video? I ask.

Video.

So he does do videocalls. Or maybe he’s making an exception for me. That’s not consistent with a breakup—or is it?

Which app? I text back.

He suggests Signal Private Messenger, the app that Snowden believes to be the most safe and secure. Is this a coincidence? Snowden does live in Russia now, so he and Max might’ve had vodka together.

Sure, I reply.

Propping my laptop on my bed, I set everything up. When Max’s face shows up on the screen, I take in a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

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