ALICE Ch 318

Riley’s relationship with Annette has taken some turns over the years. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that Riley likes her, but she has **** but to acknowledge that without Annette, Riley would never have met her wife. And as dumb and insulting as that camp was, it was also unquestionably the greatest adventure of Riley’s life. That’s worth something.

On the other hand, Riley does like Viv. For all her awfulness, Viv lives more authentically than most. Adella says that’s ironic, but Riley’s never been clear on how irony works. She’s not much of a reader, and she only went to college to play soccer. Adella, meanwhile, reads a lot when she’s not staring at breasts.

Annette is tired and she isn’t getting any younger; she’s not a beauty like Viv, although she takes good care of herself. Deep down, Riley and Adella are very alike.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Annette says, and she doesn’t do anything as obvious as sniffle, but her shoulders are sort of slumped and she turns to go.

“Hang on,” Riley says, pulling free of Viv. She yanks Adella over. “Annette, hang on.” Riley pulls Adella down and whispers in her ear.

Viv looks on curiously, and perhaps with a little apprehension, as one corner of Adella’s mouth turns upward.

It’s never difficult to convince Adella to do dumb, horny things. The dumber and hornier, the easier it is to get her onboard.

Riley musters her nerves and crosses the room to Annette. She places her hands on Annette’s waist and comes in very close. Her whole life has been a battle between her insecurity and reality. Even after everything, she still gets nervous despite all the evidence that she is, in fact, hot. Her butt is so cute that Adella Salazar, apex tomcat of the world, became monogamous for it. And still, Riley doubts herself. Kayla calls this imposter syndrome, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“Annette, even though you were a dick about the Orlova thing, is there actually anything you wouldn’t do if I asked you to? Really nicely?” Riley looks straight into the blonde’s eyes.

Annette swallows nervously. “Probably not,” she says finally, and her voice cracks a little.

“Good,” Riley says. Annette wears cute little slacks and a blouse that’s probably silk. Professional and flattering. Her belt is braided leather. Annette does not breathe, but the color in her cheeks intensifies as Riley’s fingers unbuckle her belt and remove it.

“Then sit your ass down,” Riley says, pushing her into the armchair.

Viv looks equal parts fascinated and alarmed. Riley tosses the belt to Adella.

“You aren’t going to pussy out, are you?” Adella asks Viv, and it’s been a while since Riley’s heard her use that voice. That is the voice that used to effortlessly pick up Ibiza nines who had arrived at the club on the arms of movie stars.

“Pussy out of what?” Viv replies. Even Adella doesn’t have more stage presence than a movie star. Viv holds her own.

“Does it matter?” Riley asks.

Viv’s eyes light up. “Nope,” she replies.