Eddie Wilder
Undercover Blonde Ch. 12
Evie spooned through her bowl of yogurt, creating a small swirl of berries and granola. The motion was automatic, her mind elsewhere as she sat at the kitchen island of her Shoreline Towers apartment. Outside, Miami sprawled beneath a cloudless sky, but she barely registered the view that had so impressed her days earlier.
The spoon moved from bowl to mouth without conscious direction. The clock on the microwave blinked noon, marking another day half gone. She’d slept poorly as usual, her dreams populated by disjointed images of Senator Williams’ face contorted in pleasure, Michael’s perceptive gaze, Joe’s wounded expression, and worst of all, her father’s disappointed face, all merging and separating in nauseating sequence.
Last night she’d given a sitting United States Senator a handjob. The thought landed flatly, a fact rather than the emotional catastrophe it should have been. When Michael had brought her to orgasm weeks earlier, she’d broken down crying, overwhelmed by guilt and shame. Last night, she’d scrubbed her hands raw in the bathroom sink, but the tears hadn’t come. Not in the club bathroom, not during the drive home, not lying awake in her luxury prison. The absence of that emotional response disturbed her more than the act itself.
Evie set down her spoon, staring into the half-empty bowl. What kind of person was she becoming? The natural progression of boundaries being crossed had begun to feel inevitable rather than shocking. Each line crossed had made the next one easier to step over.
