by L.H. Cosway
The second thing I noticed was my dog. Rocky stood on his bed, the shoe that was almost bigger than he was still in his mouth. I ran inside, pulled the shoe away, and picked him up.
“Sorry, again. I’ll do my best to keep him away from your stuff.”
Will eyed Rocky. “What’s his breed?”
“He’s a miniature pinscher. They were bred from dachshunds and Italian greyhounds to hunt vermin. That’s why he’s constantly stealing stuff, he has this instinct to be busy. Every month when I clean out his crate I find a whole collection of items from around the house. One time he had a hair comb, a sachet of ketchup, and a tube of lipstick.” I chuckled.
Will gave me a small smile. His smiles were never full, always with something held back. I wondered if it was because he was shy or if he just didn’t possess much warmth.
He stared at me for a long moment, then cleared his throat. “Your room’s this way.”
He led me across the hall to a medium-sized bedroom. It was fully furnished with a big window and a glass door that accessed the roof garden. Nice. I did notice there weren’t any curtains, though they’d probably ruin the chic, modern look.
“This is great. I better make sure I don’t walk around naked. I’ll be giving the neighbors a show,” I joked.
Will frowned, and there was a beat of silence before he said, “I can have blinds fitted.”
I waved him away. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’m a pajama girl. Never slept naked in my life.”
Stop saying the word naked.
More silence. I shifted in place. Will looked out the window, and then to me. “I should still put up blinds. You’ll want to pull them at night. I’ll go grab your suitcase.”
With that he left, and I walked around the room. “Well, what do you think of our new temporary abode, Rocky? I know, it’s much more stylish than Mam and Dad’s. Plus, we’ll get to stay up as late as we like. No more lights out at ten.”
“What was that?” Will asked as he returned with my suitcase.
I flushed. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud. Thank you for bringing that.”
“Do you like steak?”
“I love it.”
Will nodded. “Good. I’ll call when dinner is ready.”
He left again, and I flopped down onto the bed. Rocky crawled up and licked my face. I giggled and pushed him off. Then I spent the next half hour unpacking my clothes and hanging them up in the wardrobe. I’d just finished when there was a light knock on the door.
“Food is ready,” Will called.
I noticed he liked to use as few words as possible. We were definitely opposites.
I went out into the kitchen to find the table set. Will had made steak with roast potatoes and green beans, a nob of garlic butter melting on top. It looked mouthwatering. Nobody had ever made me a dinner like this before, probably because no one in my family could cook. Both my parents thought they could, which was why I grew up eating fancy recipes gone wrong. Burned moussaka and undercooked beef stroganoff. Pasta too much on the crunchy side of al dente.
I took a seat and cut into Will’s perfectly cooked steak with relish. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”
He took the seat opposite mine and I realized my mistake of eating before he even sat down to join me.
“It’s medium rare. That okay?”
“Yes, it’s perfect. Sorry I didn’t wait. It just looked too good.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“Well, you’re a really great cook, and the apartment is amazing. I feel like I won the lottery. Plus, you’ve got one of those huge waterfall showers. I’m so excited to try it out. I’ve never showered in one of those before. Our house was built in the 1920s and the water pressure is awful. I’ve been trying to convince my parents to upgrade the pipes for years, but I guess that’s a non-issue now that they’re selling the place—”
“Josey,” Will interrupted.
I swallowed. “Hmmm?”
He looked between me and my abandoned steak. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
I gave a shy chuckle. “Oh, well, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s more that I don’t realize I’m doing it.”
His expression warmed the tiniest bit. “How about we try something?”
“Something?”
“Let’s eat first and afterwards, over dessert, we can talk. Get to know each other better.”
His suggestion was offered in a way that didn’t seem rude, in fact, there was a kindness in his voice that was unexpected. Like he genuinely wanted to have a conversation, but he also wanted me to enjoy my dinner. It was true that I often talked through an entire meal, then looked down to realize it had gone cold.
“Okay,” I replied.
He gave me another of those closed-mouthed, almost smiles. Then, we ate in quiet and it was…lovely. It felt peaceful to eat and enjoy someone’s company without falling victim to a bout of chatter.
When we were both done, I stood to bring the dishes over to the sink. Will thanked me, and I heard the pitter-patter of Rocky’s little paws on the wood floor. He must’ve just woken up from a nap because he was full of energy and inspecting every corner of the apartment for something fun to amuse himself.
“I’ll get dessert,” Will said as Rocky made a beeline for my handbag. I’d placed it on the floor by the sofa. Before I could warn him to keep his snout out of there, he stuck his nose inside and pulled out the newspaper I bought this morning.
“Rocky, no,” I said in a panic as he marched off, proud of his find.
“What’s he got?” Will asked, glancing over.
Rocky now thought a game was afoot, because he ran around the living room, happy to be chased. I tried to swipe for the paper, but he was too fast. I put on my angry voice, “Rocky, drop it, now!”
Just like that, he dropped it and ran off scared. The paper fell to the floor with a swish, and to my dismay, Will came to see what the fuss was about. I hurried to pick it up and hid it behind my back, but when I turned around I knew he already saw.
Mortification set in.
“Will, I’m so, so sorry. I should never have bought it.”
His expression was unreadable and his eyes didn’t meet mine. “You were curious. It’s okay.”
I winced. “Is it?”
He blew out a long breath. “I’d prefer you to come to me if you have questions.”
“Oh.”
A moment passed.
Will rubbed his jaw. “You can ask me anything you like.”
His openness was a relief, and I nodded. “Yes, all right. What’s for dessert?”
“Apple pie.” He almost grinned.
“Really? Did you make it yourself?”
He shook his head. “Store bought, but there’s fresh cream.”
I reclaimed my seat, and a minute later Will set a plate in front of me. He’d warmed the apple pie up in the microwave and it really made all the difference. I took a bite and chewed. Will was obviously waiting for me to ask my questions, but for once I was tongue-tied. I needed to start out with something light before I worked my way up to the hard stuff.
Opening with Do you ever have normal sex? wasn’t an option.
I glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at me, instead focusing on his slice of pie. He was almost finished already. Man, he could put food away quick.
“Do you know how the story got out?” I asked. I felt that was a good place to begin.
He swallowed and seemed to consider his answer. “I think Aideen must’ve told one of her friends about our arrangement, and then the rumors spread from there. I know Kean never would’ve said anything. This type of thing seems to be more embarrassing for a man, having someone look at your wife—"
“Aideen and Kean?”
“The Gallaghers. The couple I used to watch.”
“Oh. Right.” I processed that. A woman and a man, not a woman and a woman, two prostitutes to be exact, like the paper had said. “The newspaper also said yo
u paid sex workers.”
Will’s expression darkened. “Lies. I would never exploit anyone in that way. Aideen and Kean were married and consenting. There was no payment involved, that would have been unethical. We all got what we wanted from the arrangement. The newspapers must’ve caught wind, but it wasn’t salacious enough. I’m guessing that’s why they decided to put the sex worker spin on it.”
Wow. I think that’s the most I ever heard Will speak at once. He was clearly angry, and I didn’t blame him.
“I have to admit, I’m relieved to hear it’s not true.”
Will made a low grunt but didn’t say anything. He was clearly still stewing on the fact that some tabloid was spreading lies about him. If I was him, I’d be livid, too.
“So, is it always couples that you, uh, watch?”
He nodded. “There was just Aideen and Kean, and one other couple before them.”
“Were they married?”
“Yes. I guess an athlete watching married, consenting couples have sex wouldn’t sell very many papers.”
“Oh, I dunno. It’d definitely sell a few,” I teased, and that got a chuckle out of him. I was glad to have lightened the mood.
“I’m not ashamed, but I know it’s not…it’s unusual.” He seemed to be opening up willingly, which I sensed wasn’t something he did very often.
“Who’s to say what’s normal?”
“You’re right, but, well”—a huff of breath, a furrow of his eyebrows— “with Aideen and Kean, it wasn’t like before. It didn’t . . .”
“What?”
“It didn’t help. I’m stopping for good.”
His statement made me curious. “What do you mean by ‘help’?”
“It brought me no relief, no satisfaction. I couldn’t seem to enjoy myself with the Gallaghers.”
“If you didn’t enjoy it, then why did you do it?”
He exhaled slowly, his eyes darkening as they met mine across the table. Something about the way he looked right then revealed hidden layer I found compelling. Compelling and a little bit scary.
“Before I answer, may I ask you something?” His voice was different now, deeper, it held an edge.
A tingle skittered down my spine; the air became heavy, shifted. “You want to ask me something?”
He nodded, his gaze still intense.
My breathing came quicker. “Uh, sure. It’s only fair.”
And then he asked, “Have you had sex?”
Six
@WillthebrickhouseMoore: Signups for @TheDreamFoundation summer programs are coming up. See their webpage for details.
@ECassChoosesPikachu to @WillthebrickhouseMoore: You’re such a good guy, Will.
@WillthebrickhouseMoore to @ECassChoosesPikachu: We’ve been over this before…
WILL
Her eyes widened, looked right, left, and then came back to mine. “Uh, yes.”
I stop myself from laughing at how she whispered her response, like it was a solemn secret. Instead, I asked a follow-up question. “Why do you have sex?”
She made a face, as though she found the question confusing, or as though to ask Isn’t it obvious?
“Because it—sex”—she whispered the word sex—“feels good, right?”
Josey’s stare lost focus, drifting to some point over my shoulder, and then she added conversationally, “Well, sometimes it feels good. It felt good with four of the people I’ve been with, the other four were just disappointing. But really, that’s my own fault. Sex isn’t a cure for boredom—or so I’ve discovered—and it never makes people like you more. In fact, sometimes sex seems to make people like you less.” She sighed lamentably, her gaze shifting back to mine.
Sometimes sex seems to make people like you less. I could certainly relate to that.
Josey started, a little flinch, like she was surprised to find me there, and then added on a rush, “But I feel like fifty percent is a solid number.” She shoved a forkful of pie into her mouth, her cheeks burning red, giving me the impression she was shutting herself up with pie.
At first, I struggled against a smile. Her candor was charming.
Yet, as the full meaning of her words were made clear, this initial instinct was eclipsed by grim resolve. She’d been intimate with four unworthy men. Four.
She deserved better, just like I’d deserved better with my ex, Eve.
But Josey had no reason to be embarrassed. Her answer—more or less—was expected, if not disheartening.
“That’s why I watch,” I answered plainly. “Because, in the moment, it makes—it used to make—me feel good.”
Josey openly studied me while she chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of her water, her outward expression much less timid as she asked, “Let me see if I have this right, you watched people because it felt good?”
“Yes.”
“And then you stopped because it didn’t feel good anymore?”
“Yes.” More precisely, it stopped feeling good because Aideen had stopped respecting my boundaries, and then Aideen had made things impossible for everyone.
“So . . . do you not like voyeurism anymore? I mean, why did it stop feeling good?” Her earlier shyness was now apparently gone, replaced with a curiosity that felt academic.
I hemmed and hawed, looking for a way to explain without getting into the nitty-gritty. “It only feels good if everyone involved is on the same page. The woman, she wanted something different from the arrangement, so I had to end things.”
Josey bit her lip, giving me the sense she was trying to stem a flood of questions. Eventually, she blurted, “What did the woman do? What did she want? I understand if you don’t want to answer. Sorry.”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind discussing it.” With you. Which was strange, but true. My oldest brother was the only person who knew all the details, and I felt a similar level of comfort with Josey. Nevertheless, I didn’t immediately elaborate, not sure where to start.
She must’ve sensed my reluctance, because her expression seemed to grow tender. “Hey. I’m the most unjudging person on the planet. I’m here to help you. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”
“She told me she was in love with me.”
Josey’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes bugged out.
I sighed. “Aideen—that’s the wife—came alone to my apartment and told me she wanted to leave her husband. For me.”
“What did you say? What happened? What did you do?” She looked like she was sitting on the edge of her seat.
“I told her no, obviously.” An echo of the resentment and frustration I’d felt on that day spiked anew. “She had no right to come here, to say those things to me.”
“No right?” Josey looked at me like she thought I was a little nuts. “She had no right to fall in love with you?”
“No. She didn’t. I’d been very clear about my expectations and boundaries, and she ignored them. I didn’t feel anything for her, not like that. I mean, we’d never even spoken in person, that’s not how things work.”
“How do things work?”
I glanced out the glass patio doors behind Josey. “The whole point is, we were supposed to be strangers. I worked out the details with Kean and Aideen over email ahead of time, a schedule, rules, consent—”
“Rules?”
“Yes. Rules. Rules must be followed, to establish clear expectations and boundaries, to keep people safe.” I considered rules—in all matters—to be the solid foundation upon which my existence had been built. Respect and rules. If I was one thing, it was a rule follower. Always. “Then, every week, they showed up at my place.”
“Here?” Josey looked around.
“Yes, here. They came here at the agreed upon time. I let them in. After that, they were supposed to ignore me, not acknowledge me. That’s what I preferred, as though I wasn’t there, or they couldn’t see me.”
“Where did they—”
“Have sex?” I looked to her, cutting her off before she could whis
per sex again.
She nodded, and I was amazed to find her features curious instead of disapproving.
“They used the old bed in the guest room, usually.”
She sat up straighter. “My room?”
“Yes, the room you’re in now. But I replaced the bed.”
“Oh.”
I watched her closely as I added, “Once, they had sex in the kitchen, here, on the table. And one other time they did it on the couch.”
She blinked, leaning away from the table, and I could see she was fighting against a grimace and mostly won.
Eventually, Josey cleared her throat and said, “I see.”
I shook my head, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “I guess I should get a new couch.”
“Honestly, I’m more concerned about the table. We just ate here.” Her tone held a teasing edge and when I looked to her, I found her lips pressed together like she was hiding a smile.
I couldn’t believe she was taking this so well. Josey was right, she was the least judgmental person in the world.
“So all that—the voyeur stuff—was fine and dandy until she showed up alone and told you—told you she had feelings for you?”
I shook my head. “No. I knew something was off before that. She’d started looking right at me while she was with her husband. I’d emailed them both and said I didn’t want that. I said it needed to stop. But she kept doing it. I was planning to call it off, find a different couple, and that’s when she showed up.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I asked her to leave. I then sent an email to them both and called the arrangement off for good.”
“Did you tell her husband? What happened?”
A sense of shame spread its claws into my chest. “No.”
I’d wrestled with what to do, and had asked my brother for advice. He told me to sever all ties and not tell her husband, saying it—their marriage—was between the two of them. If I’d told Kean, I’d be inserting myself into their problems.
Josey stared at me, but I got the sense she didn’t really see me. Her stare seemed to be focused inward.