paused, glancing at her friend and read her expression. “Wait. You’ve...never?”
Emma felt on the spot, suddenly. Did that make her a prude? From the expression on Sarah’s face, the answer was yes. “No. Never.”
“Not even...college? I mean, everyone has one then.” Sarah leaned forward, her shock evident.
“Not me.” Emma took another sip of her mimosa.
“Well, then. You have to do this. You can’t turn thirty without having done this.” Sarah leaned forward. “Look, why don’t we make a deal? You try it for forty-eight hours. Go on one drink date at least. You don’t have to sleep with anybody. But can’t you write about it? If it turns out to be so bad, rant about it online for your magazine.”
“I don’t rant,” Emma corrected. “I discuss issues.”
“Honey, you rant, but that’s okay. It’s one reason why I love you. You’ve got opinions and you’re not afraid to share them.” Sarah leaned forward and patted Emma’s hand. “What have you got to lose? You either get laid or you get the subject of your next article. Win-win.”
Sarah had a point there. And it had been a long time since Devin moved to Seattle.
“So what do I do?” Emma asked, holding up her phone.
“First, you get a better picture than that,” Sarah declared, looking at Emma’s profile and wrinkling her nose in disapproval. She swiped Emma’s phone out of her hand and took her Elvis Costello glasses off in one quick swipe.
“I need those to see!”
“Not now you don’t.” Sarah clicked a few impromptu shots of Emma at the table.
“No! Don’t... I...” Emma laughed a little, as Sarah clicked a few more before stopping.
Sarah swiped through them. “Yes, that one.” She showed her friend the shot: Emma looking away, mid-laugh, blonde hair loose and cascading down one bare shoulder, her peasant top slipping ever so slightly downward revealing the curve of cleavage. “My shirt is practically falling off!” Emma protested.
“That’s the point. News flash: Guys like boobs.” Sarah rolled her eyes as she tapped on Emma’s phone.
Emma sighed. “Sarah...this is just playing into all the stereotypes...”
“Don’t go lecturing me on how you hate being a sex object. This is the picture you use. You look like you’re fun...and you don’t have a stick up your butt.”
“I don’t!” Emma cried, reaching for the phone. Sarah batted her hand away, typing up her profile. “And what are you doing?”
“Making sure you go through with this.” Sarah tapped her screen a few more times, concentrating hard.
“You think all problems can be solved by getting laid.”
“Can’t they, though?” Sarah grinned, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.
Emma giggled and tried to take back her phone. Sarah ducked deftly. Emma gave up and reached for her coffee mug. “Sarah, come on.”
“Fine.” Sarah glanced at her friend, the dare unmistakable in her gaze. “It’s not live until you hit that button.”
Emma glanced at the screen and nearly choked, almost sloshing her coffee. “You called me ‘Kitten’?” Inwardly, Emma groaned.
“The sex part is implied,” Sarah said, signaling the waiter to refill her mimosa. Emma had a feeling she’d need another one, too. “Just hit the ‘get laid’ button, and you’re good to go.” Sarah grinned.
“A ‘get laid’ button? Seriously?” Emma hesitated. Was she really going to do it? This was so unlike her and yet... It’s just research. How bad could it be?
“You don’t like it, you can delete the app whenever you want,” Sarah said. She studied her friend. “You’re not scared are you?”
“Are you seriously peer pressuring me into this?”
“Whatever works.” Sarah shrugged.
“Fine.” Emma tapped the button, sending her profile live out into the universe, telling random strangers in the Chicagoland area she was willing and available. She wasn’t sure quite how she felt about that.
“That’s my girl,” Sarah said, patting her hand. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
“Now what?” Emma glanced at her phone, as if it would suddenly hold all the answers.
“Now you wait.” Sarah took a big swig of her mimosa. “Don’t worry. You probably won’t even hear from anybody for hours—until tonight.”
Emma glanced at her empty plate when her phone dinged. The Nost app lit up her screen with an incoming message.
“Did I say hours?” Sarah put down her champagne glass. “With your hot self, looks like you just had to wait a minute.”
Emma’s phone dinged once more. And then, a third time.
What have I gotten myself into?
Sarah grabbed her phone. She began scrolling through options. “Nope. No. Oh, God...no.” Sarah held up the phone and showed Emma a picture of a man trying to shove a foot-long hot dog in his mouth in one go. Emma wrinkled her nose. Who would want to have sex with...that?
“I feel like I’ve just wandered into an ugly bar, and I’m going to spend the next twenty-four hours being harassed.”
“Maybe.” Sarah flicked through a few more pictures. “Oh my. Here’s the man for you.” She showed Emma another one, this one of a man in a full Spider-Man suit, his face covered.
Emma barked a laugh. “No, it’s not. Look at his... You know.” She pointed to the picture’s groin where his very little bit was fully outlined for nearly all to see.
“Ew!” Sarah cried and dissolved into giggles. “No baby carrots for you!”
Sarah flicked through a few more. “Oh, this guy is nice. Mr. X? Sounds...intriguing.”
“Mr. X? Uh, no.” Emma shook her head.
Sarah kept flipping. Then, she stopped on one. “Ooh...he’s cute.” Sarah showed the screen to Emma and showed a blond, blue-eyed thirty-something in a suit.
“I guess so.” Emma shrugged.
“Guess so? He’s one hundred percent Christian Grey. And even his name is cute... Happy Fun Time! I am setting this up.”
“Sarah!” Emma tried to grab her phone. “Don’t!”
“You’re on for tomorrow night, at the bar in the Ritz-Carlton downtown.”
Emma blew a strand of hair
