Scissor Link by Georgette Kaplan (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

No, no, she’d taken the picture; she would send it. Her relationship with Janet would be based on honesty and communication.

As quickly as possible, Wendy pulled up her panties, pulled down her skirt, and left the bathroom. Regan was where she’d left her. Half of her wine was not.

“I’m fine with Keith being the breadwinner,” Regan was saying, as if there had been a conversation to resume. “But breadwinning is just one job! I cook. I clean. I babysit. Laundry! He does one job, I do five. And I delivered the baby! You think there are UPS drivers who have to build their own trucks before they go to work?”

“No,” Wendy said, sensing an opportunity to agree.

“Hell no!” Regan agreed with her own agreement.

Wendy sat down beside her and tried her wine. Like most wine, it wasn’t to her taste, but at least it wasn’t beer. “I totally get you. People call me lazy, but not only do I work, I clean up this place. I shop, I cook, I take care of Godzilla—he’s an outdoor cat, but he’s very needy.”

Regan stopped her, snorting on her wine. “Are you comparing us?”

“Yeah, we’ve got the same—”

“We really don’t.”

“We have loved ones who depend on us.”

“You have a cat!”

Wendy’s phone buzzed. She quickly swallowed her wine—mindful of the possibility of spit-takes—and checked it off to the side.

That was nice. Now can I see what it’ll look like when you hold it open for me to eat?

Okay, that was disturbingly hot, since Wendy couldn’t exactly imagine Janet saying that, so her imagination ran wild. Would she say it in the same cool tone as everything else? Would she make eye contact as she planted the thought in Wendy’s head? Would she lick her lips? She had to lick her lips at some point, right? Everyone’s lips got dry.

Then again, without so much as dinner, Wendy had given her full frontal. Maybe that was how they did in high school these days, but this wasn’t high school, not even college! She shouldn’t just allow Janet to run roughshod on her, even if the thought prompted a mental moan of ‘Mmmm…run roughshod.’

Wendy texted back hurriedly:

Maybe you should show me something first.

Regan scrunched up over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Wendy hid the phone behind her back. “Pokémon.”

“What?”

“It’s a new Pokémon app.”

“Can I see it?”

“No. It’s private.”

“It’s not some hentai thing, is it?”

“No! How do you even know what hentai is? You’re a mom!”

“Moms can use the internet,” Regan reasoned.

Wendy furrowed her brow. “Okay, now you’re making me picture Mom using the internet.”

“Just as well she can’t work an internet browser to save her life. She’d go Wyatt Earp on the place. Make everyone look at pictures of her knitting instead of naked people.”

“Maybe they could compromise and she’d knit naked people.”

Wendy’s phone buzzed and Wendy felt the most curiously dualisticsensation. She was both going ‘oh shit’ at the top of her mental lungs, and was also breathlessly excited to see what Janet had sent at the same time.

Grabbing hold of her bed’s post, she worked her way to her feet.

“Oh no, I have not finished venting about my husband yet!” Regan cried. “You were my maid of honor, you have to hear this.”

“I’ll be right back,” Wendy promised. “I just have to—” Possibly masturbate.

She walked for the bathroom instead of saying that.

“While you’re up, get me some more wine!” Regan called after her.

Wendy closed the bathroom door behind her. Locked it. Braced her body against the door just in case Regan tried to break it down.

Shit. Holy shit. It was Janet. Smiling.

Not just smiling, of course, Wendy wasn’t that easy a lay…even if Janet had dimples, holy shit, who knew?

The smile was at the top of the picture. The picture went down. Down Janet’s chin. Down her throat. Down to a vertical bar pendant, finely wrought silver worn tight to her neck, giving unneeded accessory to the expanse of flawless flesh below the graceful hollow of her throat.

And then there were her boobs. They took up most of the screen of Wendy’s phone, bursting out from an unbuttoned blouse and a demi-cup bra, the cleavage that James Bond’s latest conquest would show rightbefore they lost the PG-13 rating. Holy shit, Wendy could see the division between the orbs, the entire curvature, and a mole. It was a feat of engineering for a bra to be able to cover all of thatand still be revealing all of THAT. It was a cute bra, too. Surprisingly lacy and frilly and wait, no, no way Janet wore that at the office. That was a fun-time bra. What did it mean when someone sent you fun-time bra over the phone? Better or worse than just showing nipples?

Her phone buzzed and Wendy nearly dropped it. Shit, Janet wasn’t even giving her time to process! Just two minutes was not enough time to take her boobs in, there were two of them!

Janet’s text read, remorselessly:

I’ve shown you mine. Now why don’t you show me something else that’s mine?

Holy fucking shit, she was dating Catwoman all of a sudden. This was exactly what Batman went through every time Catwoman showed up. But he had dead parents to think of to kill his boner. Wendy was too damn small and too damn gay for this. Fuck,what if Janet called Wendy hers in person?No one was gay enough to handle that!

“Hey, Wendy, can I use the bathroom?” Regan pounded on the door behind her. “You’re not smoking a doobie, are you? We’re not thirteen anymore!”

“Just a second!” Wendy replied, automatically, since she was still kind of thirteen still. She pulled down skirt, panties, and sat on the toilet. Tried to spread her legs. Skirt and panties in the way. I knew I should’ve worn shorts to the office.

“Wendy, c’mon, I drank more wine, I need the toilet more!”

“Go in the sink then!” Wendy kicked off her panties, kicked off her skirt—skirt didn’t want to go, clung to her ankle like a shed skin that