Boys and Toys

His response was lightning fast: You will be Friday.

His words made her shiver just a little. You’re serious about Friday? Really?

Better believe it. And I want the most thorough party possible. Full demonstrations on everything.

Liv couldn’t help but grin. That’ll cost you extra.

Liv had just hit Send when her phone lit up with an incoming call from her dad, which nearly gave her a heart attack. She fumbled with the phone, quickly grabbing her hands-free Bluetooth and answering it, as if somehow her dad could read her naughty texts from the other end of the line.

“H-hello?” she stammered, sounding guilty, just as she always did when she was caught red-handed.

“Everything all right, Olivia?”

“Uh...yeah...” Liv cinched the belt on her robe and pulled her legs up under her on her bed. She sat up straighter, even though he couldn’t see her slouch through the phone.

“Sorry to bother you at work,” her dad’s voice rumbled through the receiver. Work? Liv thought, confused. Then it hit her: of course, her fake job, the one her parents thought she went to every weekday from eight ’til six, in the far-flung burbs in a small company no one’s heard of.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve got a minute. What’s up?” Liv slapped her laptop shut, too, as if her dad could miraculously read her online job listings, too.

“Uncle Robert is in town this weekend. We’re going to have a few people over at the house, maybe even grill some steaks or something. We want to make sure you can make it.”

Liv’s phone dinged again. She glanced at it.

I’ll pay whatever it takes.

She swallowed, hard, feeling hot and cold all at once. What was she doing? She was flirting with Porter, while her dad was on the line, and probably only a few office walls separated them. Nothing a good shout couldn’t get through.

“Olivia?” Her dad was still waiting for an answer.

“Sorry, it’s...uh...a bit hectic here. But, yeah, I can come. Sure.”

“Great. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Ok.” Liv was already trying to figure out what to text Porter next.

“Oh, and Liv...” Her dad cleared his throat on the other end. “Just wanted to tell you that we’re proud of you. With this new job, and making that first big step with your marketing career. I know your mother prayed for this to happen every day, and we’re both so happy that it came to pass. It just proves that God has big things in store for you.”

Liv felt as if someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water from Lake Michigan. She was completely sure that God’s plan for her did not involve battery-operated vibrators.

“Uh...thanks, Dad.” Liv hated lying to her parents, but she also couldn’t see how she could be honest with them, either. Aside from her secret college boyfriend, she’d never lied on this scale to her parents before. This was her first big rebellion, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

Liv hung up and opened her laptop again. She’d never intended to lie to her parents this long, but she also had drastically underestimated how bad the job market was at the moment. Her phone dinged with another message from Porter.

Come to my place. 2622 N. Orchard. Come hungry. I’m serving dinner.

Dinner? That threw her. This was sounding like more of a date than a sex party. Was Porter interested in more than a casual hookup? Liv shook her head.

She thought about texting right then and there and calling the whole thing off. Why was she even seriously considering going? Jordan was wrong. Porter wouldn’t tell her dad, not if he valued his place at the firm. But what if that wasn’t true? Even worse, what if she went through with the party, but then Porter found out just how little she knew about the sex that went along with her toys?

She’d have to stall. Put him off. But could she do it? She thought about how little her willpower had mattered in the elevator.

As her fingers hovered near her phone, she remembered what Jordan had said, about Porter getting mad and telling her dad everything.

She couldn’t risk even a remote chance that Porter would do that.

She still remembered the look of pure anger on her father’s face when he’d found that Cosmo magazine she’d hidden under her mattress in her room when she was in eighth grade, the one that blatantly offered tips on blow jobs right on the cover. It wasn’t her fault, exactly. They’d never even dreamed of sitting her down and explaining the birds and the bees. She had to get what she could from fifth-grade sex ed and magazines.

No, she had to do it. She couldn’t risk calling Porter’s bluff. She’d have to go through with the party, but she certainly didn’t have to sleep with him. Unless she wanted to, a little annoying voice whispered in her head. She texted back before she lost her nerve:

I’ll be there.

Chapter Four (#ulink_14c283ef-d04b-5cac-b3b1-f4d5647abed6)

“This is a bad idea,” Liv told her reflection as she stared at her long, shiny hair, which hung past her shoulders, and her almond-shaped eyes lined with smoky eyeliner that accentuated the corners. She wore her most modest hostess outfit: a just-above-the-knee knit black dress, long-sleeved, with a scoop neckline. But she couldn’t decide on shoes: sky-high silver strappy stilettos, sensible black pumps, or full-on dominatrix lace-up knee-high black stiletto boots?

“The boots!” cried Jordan, popping her blond head in, her neon green headphones hanging around her neck.

“Are you trying to get me into trouble?” Liv demanded, hands on hips.

Jordan shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe if you show him the whips ’n’ chains first, he’ll get all scared and cut the party short.”

“Oh, great, and then he’ll go back and tell my dad I’m not just into sex toys, but I’m into S&M? That’s all I need.” Liv reached down to the pile of shoes at the bottom of her open closet. “Sensible pumps it is.”

“You look like you’re going to a funeral.” Jordan leaned against the door frame of Liv’s room as she chomped gum.

“I am—my funeral if my parents find out what I’m doing.”

Liv slipped into her second shoe and studied herself in the mirror. She hated the frumpy rounded-toe pumps. She kicked them off and went for the flashy silver strappy stilettos. There, she thought. Not quite dominatrix, but not Sunday school, either.

“I hate to be the one to bring this up,” Jordan said. “But what happens if he wants a sex party every weekend?”

“It’s a sex toy party.”

“Right.” Jordan rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure sex party is going to be more accurate.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Liv’s mouth before she wrestled it under control. “It’s going to be purely professional.”

“Do you need my extra can of pepper spray?” Jordan offered it from the back pocket of her jeans. It was decorated with a pink skull and crossbones.

“No,” Liv scoffed, and was surprised that she meant it. She trusted Porter. “He’s a nice guy.”

Jordan let out a disgusted snort. “Right, because all blackmailers are nice guys. It’s just a cheap trick to get into your panties, Liv. Period.”

“He’s not like that. He’s buying me dinner.” Liv was surprised at how quickly she rose to his defense. She tried to put into words the pull between them, the surprisingly strong current in their first kiss.

“Dinner? Oh, that changes everything,” Jordan said, skepticism clear in her face. “Well, when he answers the door in a fuzzy leopard-print man-thong holding a strap-on, don’t come crying to me. I’ll say I told you so.”

* * *