My heart hammers in my chest.
“You, straddle him. Then bend over and lift your ass in the air, and look directly in his eyes while you do it.”
Um. What now?
I blink at Latex Girl for a minute, wondering if I know her from somewhere.
I don’t. I’m just stalling.
I walk slowly over to the table. Dex’s eyes never leave mine. Which is comforting in a way, we can leave whenever we want to and he’s here to keep me safe and—
“Straddle him. Now.”
I climb on top of the table and Dex whispers, “Is this okay?”
“Yes, of course,” I whisper back. “Is it okay with you?” I ask, suddenly scared it’s not.
“God yes, Nash. Come here,” he says, helping me crawl over him.
I cover his body with mine, and the heat from his makes me shiver. I can feel his arousal, hard and thick through his pants, and I squeeze my eyes closed to try to block out the overwhelming sensations of every inch of him beneath me.
“Open those gorgeous eyes of yours,” Madame Latex says. “And you, underneath this exquisite morsel, ride those hands up and lift her dress up, bare her ass to me.”
My eyes fly open. His hands, like pure hot lava now, slide over my skin and lift my dress up around my lower back. I look into his eyes; he’s breathing too heavily and maybe I’m crushing him. “Am I too heavy?”
His arms are around me instantly, his hands fisting into my hair. “You’re fucking perfect, Nash. Fucking perfect.”
“Are you ready? I’m going to spank you five times since this is your first time.”
“Yes,” I hiss.
Dex shudders underneath me, his face now buried into my neck.
“You will count after each one. Out loud.”
The first paddle cracks across my skin without warning, sending sparks of fireworks all over my body. Dex holds me tighter, and I can feel his mouth, and his lips press against the side of my neck.
“One,” I moan.
Madame Latex walks around the table as she did for the last couple and when she reaches a full circle, the second strike comes in the same exact spot as before. “Two,” I say.
Dex is breathing hot against my throat, pressing his lips harder against me.
The third paddle explodes on my other cheek and Dex’s tongue licks out. I can feel it warm and wet, and I don’t know what’s more arousing, being paddled by a complete stranger in a weird sex club or the fact that Dex is so turned on by this he’s tasting my neck.
The last two are fast swats on the same cheek and all I can feel, and hear, and see is Dex. I’m smothered into his chest, my legs hedging both sides of his, and his cock is as hard as steel right where I need one to be.
“Go,” Madame Latex says, “Go take care of her.”
I don’t remember climbing down off the table, or who straightened out my dress. I can’t even explain how we both get back into this dark hallway. But I’m up against the wall, arching my back off it and Dex’s hands are on my throat and tangled into my hair. My lungs are knotted up into throbbing starving organs, my heart burns with heat, and the small space between us aches with emptiness. His mouth is breathing hot and heavy against my skin, but neither of us are taking the extra inch, neither of us willing to be the first to give in.
My body screams for me to move, begs me to run my hands up over his chest to pull him closer, but my head keeps me from making the mistake.
His lips brush over my cheek, the corner of my lip, soft and tempting. Then his head drops back and his voice shakes, “I think you should have enough to start your article, right Nash?”
I shift away. I need distance between us—a whole world between us.
“Yes. Definitely. The whole experience was a very informative one.” My voice trembles in the same way his did.
He doesn’t hold my hand as we walk through the hallway and the rest of the club. Wherever I turn my gaze, people are performing sexual acts, each moving in a lurid liquid slowness, like they know how to take their time and enjoy it all. I envy their freedom.
We’re out on the sidewalk and down the block before Dex stops me. “Nash, let me get you a cab home.”
I look up at him, and his face shows nothing. No signs of being torn in two like me. This is probably a regular weekend thing for him. Maybe he wants to go back inside? “I think I’m going to walk and start outlining my thoughts and words in my head.”
“Nash—”
I don’t want him to say any more. I don’t want him to reject me or tell me anything that will make me feel bad. “This was a fun night. Let’s end on a good note. Thank you. Thank you for taking me, and getting me dressed up and keeping me safe.” And then I wave and walk away. I don’t dare turn around to see if he walks back into the sex club. I don’t care, it’s Dex.
I don’t care at all.
Chapter 22
On Saturdays, the liquor store up the street from me opens at noon, and today I’m their first customer. My plans for the day are quite lofty: drink tons of wine and read the newest psychological thriller to hit the bestsellers list in one sitting. I’ve already hit Strand Bookstore on 12th Street and Broadway and they pointed me to what promises to be an enthralling read. I skimmed the first three pages, like I always do to try a taste of the writing, and I got sucked in big time. It’s been an hour and I’m still wondering what could possible happen to the girl on the first page.
Basically, I’m addicted.
I roam the aisles of the store, browsing all the pretty bottles, reading the names. I like wines with personality. Fat Bastard, Arrogant Frog, Mommy’s Time Out, and of course my very favorite, Ménage à Trois, which I grab two reds of, since this book won’t start reading itself.
“Another fiction-filled Saturday night for you, miss? What are you reading this day?” The woman behind the counter asks, like she usually does. She keeps talking about starting a book club in the back of the store on a weeknight, but so far, it’s never happened.
I hold the book up for her to see and she grimaces. “I like the books with the naked men on the covers better. I like to read about all the sex I’m missing out on.”
Anything I respond to that will cause way too much personal information to be told to me. I know for a fact she’s married to the owner and I don’t want to hear anything about their mating habits.
“It’s never the same after children. Do you have kids?” she asks. She always asks. I don’t know why she thinks I’ll change my answer as I seem to still be purchasing alcohol to drink while reading at home, alone.
“No, no kids.”
“Well, you’re lucky. And let me give you advice. Don’t. They ruin your life and your private areas. I haven’t felt anything down there in years. And my husband’s no help—”
I slide two twenties toward her and hurry to the door. “Keep the change, Mina. And good luck with…all that.” I get to the corner and realize she probably does that to me every time to get the extra money I throw at her. Seriously, I just gave her fifteen extra dollars. She’s probably planning some extravagant trip to the Fuji Islands and I’ve paid for a quarter of it.
By nine o’clock at night, I’ve drunk a whole bottle of wine and I’m cradling the book to my chest, feeling the weight of one of the biggest book hangovers ever.
I’m also bug-eyed from reading all-day and bored. Julia texted me last night while I was out at the club that she was out for the weekend. She didn’t ask me about what happened at the club, nor did she ask me to watch her cat, which come to think of it, I’ve yet to actually see.
Maybe her and Nate are spending another romantic, nice getaway in the Hamptons and they took the new pussy. I shelve the new book and walk around my apartment. I don’t feel like watching a movie alone. I could start writing the article I sketched out last night, but the words just kind of flowed out of me then but I’m not really in the mood to work now.
I slump onto the couch and open my laptop and scroll through Face
book, liking and commenting and posting my thoughts. Of course, I pull up Nate’s page. He went to a baseball game today. He posted a few pictures of him and a friend holding up beers. I stare at his gorgeous face in all the images.
I never realized before, but his nose is the slightest bit crooked. I also notice Julia isn’t in any of the photos. She probably didn’t go with him; she’s never one to say no to a picture so I doubt she was there.
I guess they didn’t go the Hamptons together.
Instagram is next. Nate posts more pictures of the game and some piece of artwork he’s working on. I heart everything, of course. Nothing else says I’m secretly crushing on you like a copious amount of hearts and emojis.
I toss my laptop to the side, frustrated, when my phone starts to buzz with an incoming call. I look down at the caller ID. It’s Gail.
I let out a loud sigh. I don’t want to talk to her right now. I let it go to voicemail, but she immediately calls again. And again after that.
“Hello?” I say, curtly.
“Where are you?” Gail demands.
“Excuse me? I’m home, why?”
“Because I just got a call from the South Hampton Hospital, Julia’s been in an accident. They called me because I was the last call she made on Friday to ask for a few days off.”
I guess they did go to the Hamptons. “Is she okay?”
“They wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone, but I can’t even go there. I flew out to LA yesterday. Can you check on her, or at least call her family?”
“Yeah, sure, of course. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
I ring Nate, because even though Julia and I are close, I’ve never met her family. I know they all live in Connecticut but that’s about it.”
“Jane? Hey, what’s up?”
“Nate, hi. Are you with Julia?”
“No, why?”
“Have you spoken to her? Gail just got a call saying she was in an accident and she’s in South Hampton Hospital, but they’re not telling her anything else.”
“What? Is she okay? What happened? Where’s South Hampton? Is that in Connecticut? She went to see her family for a few days, maybe they know something. Do you have their number? Is she answering her phone at all?”
“South Hampton is in South Hampton, Nate. It’s not in Connecticut. And I’ve never met her family.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
I look down at my watch and sigh. “I’m going to catch the eleven fifteen train to Riverhead and get my car from my parents’ house. Do you want to ride with me?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
* * *
It’s the wee hours of the morning when we finally reach the hospital. Nate and I went from nervous chatter to not speaking to one another at all for the entire ride. I was too lost in my own thoughts as I’m sure he was. Why would Julia tell him she was going to Connecticut if she wasn’t? They’ve been spending every minute together, so why would she suddenly be going someplace without him? Maybe they really aren’t as good a couple as they portray. Whatever the case, none of it should be making me this happy.
By the time they let us see her, they will only allow one visitor in at a time. I take that as a really bad sign and push Nate to go. They’re a couple, more than just friends, they’re lovers—I’m sure she would rather see him than me first. I’m sure she would find comfort in his being here.
I watch as Nate speaks quietly with the doctors in front of her room. He looks confused, and for a quick moment I imagine this being all some big misunderstanding. Maybe someone called Gail by mistake or maybe this was a really shitty prank, maybe that’s why Nate has that expression across his face.
My knee bobs nervously as I sit in the small waiting area. I can’t hear anything that’s being said, and for some strange reason, Nate heads into the room on the opposite side of the hallway. My heart picks up speed; there definitely looks like there’s been a miscommunication of some sort. They must have told us the wrong room number.
Strangely, Nate walks between the two rooms a few times.
I drum my fingers on the armrests of the chair.
I sit there for an hour going out of my damn mind.
Every time he walks out of one room, I stand up then sit back down as he walks right into another. I start to wonder if he’s forgotten about me.
I’m playing solitaire on my phone when he collapses in the sit next to me. My stomach has been in knots for the last few hours and I needed to take my mind off of Julia being so tragically maimed she can’t walk again or talk, just horrible images that flashed over and over in my head.
The phone fumbles out of my hands. “What happened? Is she okay? What’s going on?”
“Go ahead. Go inside and see her.” His voice was harsh, angry.
I run.
Inside the room, Julia is propped up on fluffy pillows and her arms are folded over her chest. She looks bruised and swollen. There are scratches on her face and arms. An IV juts out of one of her hands, and under the hospital sheets one of her legs looks to be in a cast.
“I can’t believe you did this to me,” she says.
I stop in front of her bed, confused. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I must have heard her wrong.
“I can’t believe you brought him here. That you called him and told him where I was.”
“Nate? Why wouldn’t I? Gail called me and told me you were in an accident and they wouldn’t give her any information. I called him because I thought you were together or he knew what happened—”
“I was with Pierre Auden Luc,” she says.
Pierre Auden Luc, her ex? The prince of…somewhere. I stare at her, blankly.
“I didn’t know who you were with, Julia I—”
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, averting her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re cheating on Nate?” I want to scream at her and shake her by the shoulders. Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is to have someone, someone like him?
“Pierre Auden Luc is like your Kiss Cam guy, Jane. He’s the one you find that stays in your heart and on your mind and no one else is ever as good.”
“But Jules—”
“Forget it,” she says harshly. “Just leave me alone, okay. Just go.”
I want to remind her of every time Pierre Auden Luc broke her heart. How he would swoop in and mesmerize her with gifts and trips and then disappear months at a time right after. How he leaves her stranded or alone every time.
But I don’t. I don’t say any of those things because she already knows them, and this is her choice to make even if it’s a poor one.
I back out of her private hospital room and walk out in to the hallway. From where I stand, I can see into the room across the hall, the prince’s room. There is a guard standing near the window and I’m certain if I walk in, there’ll be a few more stationed around his private room. So that’s why Nate walked back and forth.
I walk back to the row of chairs I left Nate in and sit down next to him.
“Everyone told me to watch out for her. Everyone warned me. But she was so beautiful, too beautiful that I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen.” He pulls at a string on the cuff of his shirt, fraying the threads.
I’m not sure what to say, so I nod and listen. It kills me, it hurts me so much to sit here and listen to how beautiful Julia is to him even after she’s hurt him. I want to reach out to him, but I’m too afraid.
“This is fucking hell,” he says leaning his elbows on his knees and hanging his head in his hands. “I should have just stayed sitting at that fucking baseball game. I should have just stayed and talked to you instead of running away to chase after Julia. I could have just secretly admired her from afar. Then none of this would have happened.”
Chapter 23
At first, I was blindingly happy with what Nate had said to me in the waiting area. I can admit that. I can also admit that it isn’t until later on, during the l
ong three-hour ride back home that it occurs to me that what he said wasn’t all that nice.
Even though I thought our kiss was something epic love stories were made from, to him I was the second, safer choice.
Pathetically, I am so infatuated with him I’m not sure I’m truly upset enough by what he’s said.
Rationally, it sucks. I’m well aware of the total suckage that his words emit. However, I can’t help but think about the facts in the situation. Fact number one: Julia is and forever will be more beautiful, glamorous, and sexier than I could ever imagine myself to be. I mean, she’s done modeling jobs, and she’s slept with probably a hundred times more men than I have.
I can count on one hand how many men I’ve slept with.
So I get why all men would choose her, she’s unattainable to them. She’s the girl who looks like the girl postered up on the walls of their teenage bedrooms.
I am not.
Fact number two: Maybe Nate is enchanted by her, but maybe he’d be enchanted by my wit and charm if he got to know me better—or, if his perfect, flawless model-esk girlfriend cheated on him with a prince.
It’s all so very confusing. He’s mentioned our kiss many times. He says things that make me think there actually could be something between us.
These are all the things I think about while at work, writing a column titled, How to Decode Male Flirting: My Sudden Descent into Madness. I even get Dex involved in the column, and we laugh at each other loudly over all the cubicle walls that stand between us. Julia is still in the hospital, and I haven’t seen Nate all morning. I also tell Dex every little detail of what happened on Nate’s and my emergency road trip. The only advice he gives me is to be careful. I hate him for a brief moment, but we work on the first draft of the article and I eventually forget why I’m angry with him.
It’s time to face the facts: Men and women are rarely on the same page. We just think and act so differently, yet we spend so much time struggling to understand each other. At least women do.
Are You There, Karma? It’s Me, Jane.: A laugh out loud romantic comedy Page 14