two || leslie's catcall

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Leslie slept in on Saturday, utterly exhausted from her night of fun, and only woke up when the smoke alarm went off. Her neighbour, a woman in her seventies, was always forgetting how sensitive it was and burning her toast. She rolled over with a groan, her hand falling on her phone. Three missed calls and two messages. Surprisingly, none from Molly or Lucy. An odd relief flooded her as she opened her inbox to find a message from Greg, her (unfortunately) full-time friend.

Hey Les, how was your Valentine’s Day? - Greg

Leslie smiled. Greg was the only person she knew who wrote texts like formal emails.

Amzng. Great wine + great sex. U?

She waited for his response, despite the initial text having been sent at nine o’clock and it was nearly midday. In typical Greg fashion, though, he responded immediately.

Sex? Who?!?!? Tell me now.

And there went his formality. A grin spread over her face and she lay back to respond, holding her phone over her face despite having attained too many injuries doing that.

I like to call him Roger.

Greg’s next reply took a little longer. Leslie jiggled her feet in anticipation.

Ah, I get it. Roger Rabbit? ;)

Leslie let out a laugh, glancing at her bedside drawer as she typed her response in her ancient Nokia.

Hell yeah. U only wish u could be where he was last night.

She stretched, kicking off her duvet.

Roger’s a lucky fellow. Jessica should look out.

If only, Leslie thought as she looked down at her bare chest. While she certainly had breasts, and breasts that she was proud of, she was no competition for the buxom cartoon character.

How was ur night anyway?

I won’t lie, it was pretty much the same as yours.

Leslie couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face. Greg was her rock, the first person she wanted to talk to rather than Molly and Lucy. They were such prudes whereas Greg had no problem with her chronic oversharing. She sent him one last text before getting up to get dressed.

Sounds hot, filthy minx ;)


Lucy rang while she was changing, requesting a ‘girly chat.’ It turned out one of the missed calls had indeed been from her, calling off her husband’s mobile, so Leslie threw on a pair of jeans and a jumper before doing her make-up. Simple, to match her outfit. The buzzer went off as she was taking extra care doing her eyeliner, trying not to stab her eyeball again. Lucy, being Lucy, would wait outside her door for exactly ten seconds before ringing again so Leslie dived for the phone by her door.

“Come up,” she yelled, jabbing the button a little too hard and bending her nail. “Damn fuckity shitting arse!”

Lucy knocked on the door. “I heard that. What on earth are you swearing so much about?”

“Bent my goddamn nail,” Leslie muttered, gripping her finger. Lucy took her hands, inspecting her nails.

“You really should add a bit of colour,” she said. “And cut them. These are dangerous.”

Leslie withdrew her hands and backed into her bedroom. “I like my claws. All the better to ward off perverts with. Anyway, gimme a sec, would you? I didn’t finish my makeup. Make yourself at home.”

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