Kiss A Ginger Day: Chapter 9

Alice stared at her phone screen.

<<In the words of Taylor Swift, are you ready for it?>>

God please don’t let him be a Swiftie. I mean, the woman rocks but still… Alice wanted hard core Outlander throw-me-into-the-heather-and-shed-your-kilt sexting, not love song lyrics.

<<Define “it”>> She might as well get the terms straight right off the bat.

<<Worshipping from a respectable distance. Do you know the first order of business?>>

<<Asking me what I’m wearing?>>

<<Love, I’d never be that pedestrian. Clothes are the last thing on my mind.>>

Hers, too. She jogged to her bedroom, threw the phone so hard it bounced off them mattress to the floor and yanked off her coat. Within seconds the rest of her clothes joined it on the floor.  Theodore seemed to make her do that—rip her clothes off her like a wild animal, like he’d said.

Another cheery chime went off on her now-abandoned phone. She grabbed it from the floor.

<<Besides, I know you’re nude.>>

She gasped, looked around. As if she’d find him here? <<how do you know?>>

<<Even from here I can scent your skin.>>

Oh, feral. A deep thudding began between her legs. She hadn’t had a lot of experience in sexting, but she already knew this guy knew what he was doing. Proper punctuation and everything.

What could she say that would be scintillating? A deep buzzing in her ears kept her from coming up with anything.

More dots started to float across her screen. She stared at them as if they were the Holy Grail.

<<Location is first. It’s International Bathtub Day. Give you any ideas?>>

<<Into water sports?>>

<<If it involves you nude, I’m into anything.>>

Hmmm, sexting in the tub. Not a bad idea.

Her phone pinged again. <<Don’t leave me standing here in my birthday suit too long, Alice. Mrs. Peterson next door loves to peek at my goods through my curtains.>>

She was moving to her bathroom before she even finished reading the message. She furiously typed. <<You’re off limits to Mrs. Peterson. Your goods are mine.>> Proverbially speaking, of course. She didn’t know where she got the cajones to write that. But no one could ever accuse her of not being 100% into whatever job was at hand.

<<Meet your spectacular breasts and ass in the tub.>>

They were going to do this.

She glanced down at her tub, began to inspect it. Nothing will get you examining a tub’s surface faster than having to fill it with hot water and sink your whole naked body into it to maybe have text-sex with a hot ginger who believes you have spectacular breasts and ass.

Her phone pinged. <<Unless you’d rather celebrate Yodel For Your Neighbors Day.>>

If he thought he could get out of what he started, he had another thing coming. <<Does yodeling turn you on?>>  Please type no.

<<Only if we do it together, naked, in the tub.>>

<<I like my water hot>>

<<Like your men.>>

His ego certainly was intact. <<one sec>>

She opened up the cabinet under the sink and pulled out her cleaning supplies—gloves, scrubber, bleach. With a loud slap, she had her gloves on in a second.

Her screen lit up again from a text from him. <<Gotta clean it first, eh?>>

Damn him. If he’d hidden a camera, she’d sue his very fine ass. She yanked off the gloves.

<<I’ll have you know, Theodore Gaston, the fourth, I am assessing how much water I should fill it. I mean if there’s going to be sloshing water around or not.>>  Liar, liar, rubber gloves on fire.

<<Maximum sloshing.>>

Game on.

But first, a clean tub was necessary. She’d never attacked a job so fast, making big circles with the cleaner and a touch of bleach. She might be in this tub for a while.

Within minutes, her body was slick with water that had splashed across her skin. It wasn’t probably her smartest idea to be doing that naked. Bleach burned. But the way her breasts slapped against the cold tile, she found it oddly refreshing. When did she ever just hang out nude? How about never?

Another sound ping sounded and echoed off the bathroom tile. <<Two minutes and the water will cover your favorite part of me.>> Didn’t all men say their penis was their favorite?

She quickly rinsed off the tub, basically soaking her arms, chest, thighs and floor but who cared. She was about to get wet. And with any luck, wet everywhere. She abandoned her gloves and began to fill the tub.

She typed as she watched the water rise—too slowly.

<<And what is my favorite part doing now?>>

<<Drowning. Care to launch a rescue?>>

<<Need a little mouth to mouth?>>

<<He’s waking up at your offer. But you should just in case he needs help.>>

She swallowed, which did little to keep her mouth from craving him—and his favorite part. Many women declared they hated oral sex—giving it, not receiving it. Not her. She loved it all.

She dipped her foot into the water and hissed. Too hot. But she had a rescue to start. She cranked the cold to even out the temperature. Somehow she managed to lower herself to the two inches of water that pooled around her and hold on to her phone at the same time.

Typing was challenging with just her thumb but a certain man part needed her.  <<Now are YOU ready for it?>>

The screen lit up again with another of Theodore’s messages. <<How’s that glorious bottom feeling?>>


<<Enjoying the heat?>>

A rush of how he felt inside her—hot, long, full—cascaded into her mind.      <<I’d enjoy it more if something hot was inside me>>

<<Well now you’ve done it. He’s fully alive. Touch yourself.>>

Going straight to it. Her fingers slipped to between her legs. A deep sigh rumbled up from her chest and out her lips.

<<Small circles, love.>>

<<Bossy>> Her thumb began to ache from the awkward texting. So did another part of her anatomy.

<<If you’d like.>>

<<I lidg>> Shit, she couldn’t do this one handed.

<<Lidg’s not my favorite move.>>

Making fun of her? <<You try texting one handed>>

<<I am.>>

Oh. He was handling himself. At least her imagination went there. <<Long strokes or short?>>

<<Both. How’s the sloshing?>>

The water had risen at this point and wasn’t threatened to slosh anywhere. At least not yet. <<Tub is holding.>>

<<Can’t say the same.>>

The mental picture of him fisting himself, hard and fast, sped her own hand up.<<How hard?>> She somehow managed to type words.

<<Steel. Imaging myself inside you right now is fucking fantastic.>>

She dipped on finger inside herself. Imagined him there. <<Clenching down on you hard>>

<<You want me to fuck you harder, don’t you?>>

Her clit began to throb, and her legs ached to spread even further apart than the tub allowed. <<Yes>> She reached over and shut off the water. Then swung one leg over the edge and pushed her finger inside herself, deeper. The move was a poor substitute for Theodore.

<<I’d also make you get on all fours so I could thrust inside you behind while working that tight ass with my finger,>>

Oh, he really was good at this whole sexting thing. Her forehead pricked from the heated water, and her mouth fell open as a flood of sensation cascaded down her legs. Her clit began to throb and she’d give anything to have a second set of hands. She wanted to touch herself—everywhere, imagine it was Theodore doing exactly what he wrote.

Somewhere along the way all her inhibitions had fled. As if she could hang on to them with Theodore around. He brought things out in her she didn’t know she had. The man turned downright feral during sex.  Her body was so on board with it.

<<More>> She then dropped her phone to the bathroom rug and sped up her hand.

Her phone began to ping like crazy. The little chirping sounds bounced in the tile and mixed with the water splashes. Theodore was texting her like a man possessed and she channeled every bit of that thought into imagining him thrusting into her so fast and hard, the tub was nearly empty of water.

Her climax was long and she milked it for a long minute.

It took a while to reclaim her breath, open her eyes. Water has definitely breached the side of the tub now. She wiped her hand on a nearby towel and picked up her phone.

<<Fucking you… hard.>>
<<Alice! Red alert. Our office was broken into.>>
<<Jesus, you’re tight. Hot. Wet.>>
<<Roger is on the warpath. Tricia called. So I planted the story, too. But call me?>>
<<Pumping into you deeper now.>>
<<Alice, where are you? Tried calling. Is your phone on silent again?>>
<<Comig so hardd. wrjht.>>

Her mind didn’t know where to go first. Thoughts buzzed around her head like a bumble bee.

Theodore masturbating in the tub to images of her.

The office being broken into.

Theodore getting off so hard he mistyped.

The fact she’d unwisely ignored her phone ringing earlier when she saw it was the office.

Theodore—hot, hot Theodore.

Patty successfully planting the counter story.


Finally, her phone stopped making any noise at all. An endless minute stretched out. What was important in this very second? She texted Theodore back. <<Me too.>> Then dialed Patty’s number.

Watch for the  next News From Elizabeth newsletter for another installment!