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Kelsey: Oh my God . . . you’re going to be murdered. Lottie: No way. The dude is meeting me at Chipotle. He’s not going to murder me at a place where you have to pay extra for guac.
“If I found the right woman, I’d be far more interested in fucking her against every surface of my house rather than answering monotonous emails or buying a business partner a drink.”
She swallows hard. “Fine, but I’m going to need to know your dick size before you leave.” “Why do you need to know that?” I ask. “Because,” she says with a smile, “I need to know if I have to act like a happy fiancée, or a truly satisfied fiancée.”
