Page 13 of About the Green

I immediately stand up and excuse myself from the table with Redd. He gives me a look, but I just wave him off as I head off to the nearest hallway.

Enunciating every word, I ask, “The fuck do you think you're doin’? I was in a meetin’.”

A hollow tinging sound that I can hear her tongue ring making over her teeth. “You're such a tease, you know that?"

"Me? Why are you callin’ me like this? What the fuck do you—"

"You know how wet you make me? Just one time, please. That's all I need. And then we'll be able to work together amicably, and you can stop pretending like you don't want to know what I feel like."

“Ha,” I can’t believe the nerve of this brat. “I—even if that were true, this is not the way to go about it."

Why did I say that?

Fuck.

I shouldn’t be encouraging her.

"But I'm bored, and I have nothing to do. And I thought about how strong your arms look, even through your hoodies. It's kind of insane,” she hums for a moment and then there’s a pause. “It's your workout routine. Tell me about what makes you all sweaty…”

"Nah. Not doin’ that. I need you to get off my phone. Go find someone else to play around with.”

"But I don't want to call someone else. I want to call you. I love how your voice sounds when you're getting all flustered and annoyed."

“Not flustered, but I am fucking annoyed." Why am I still entertaining this call?

She pants some more. “I know. I can tell. Tell me to stop, and I will."

"I want you to hang up the phone."

"But you don't want me to stop touching myself to the thought of you."

"You ever heard of professionalism?"

"Me? But I'm not a professional. I'm just a girl." Her words trail off to just a whisper by the end of her statement.

“So you’ve said. You're a grown woman, and you know it."

"But I'm just a girl," she sing-songs. It's breathy and long as I can hear a hint of what I imagine is her wetness.

"Fingers or toys?”

“Oh,” her breath hitches. “I should have brought toys. It's just my fingers. Listen, can you hear—" There's only a little bit of shifting before I can hear very clearly how wet she truly is.

I'm almost tempted to give in to what she's forced on me, especially when my pants tighten. "Nah. Don't wanna hear. Get off my phone, Nina."

"Oh, I like when you say my name like that.” She pants a little harder. The whine in her voice is almost too much to resist. “Say it again, please...”

"No," I say, firm but still I’m holding the phone to my ear.

She stops panting, the rustling coming to a halt. I think that she’s done with—whatever this is—then she asks, “Do you want me to video call so you can see?" Too much mischief dripping from her voice.

"No. I'm in public.” I look around, making sure no one is coming down this hallway when the warehouse we work out of is always busy. I’m grateful that no one is a witness to the half chub I’m certain could become a problem if I let it. Just like Nina. I don’t bother adjusting right now because I don’t know if my dick will care that it’s not encouragement to continue bricking up. “How are we supposed to work together when you're doin’ this?"

"I think it would be a lot easier to work together if you just relaxed a little bit. Let some of that stress go…”

“Not stressed,” I correct.

"You don't have to lie to me." Her playing has picked up again. This time faster before she asks, "You know what I like?”