Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
The truth is, I'm not good at this relationship thing either.
The truth is, I hurt someone, because I was afraid to share. My history, my failings, my life. Because I wanted to have all the cards. Because I wanted to take the experience and turn it into a story I could tell, a memory, a thing that couldn't hurt me anymore.
I hurt him because I was afraid to fall for him.
But I did anyway.
That's the truth, listeners.
There's no way to connect and protect your heart. It's not possible.
Love and sex are full-contact sports.
There's a high risk of injury.
And I fucked this one.
But enough of my somber story. Back to something a little more fun. After the break. And a preview of next week. We're continuing our series on sex work with a special guest. A professional Domme. You can call her Mistress Pain. Call in with questions. And be nice. She's a friend of a friend.
I pause the podcast and stare down at my phone.
I have to talk to her. Reply. Explain this somehow.
Why I didn’t rush after her.
How foreign these feelings are.
How much I care about her. And want more with her. Want everything with her.
I start to text something, but a knock on the door interrupts me.
Cynthia speaks. "Hey, don't open the door. I know Danny is in there. Hey."
"Hey," he says back.
"I'm scared," she says.
"Don't be. You'll do great," he says.
"I’ve never worn a dress like this," she says.
"I bet you look beautiful," he says.
"Thanks." She runs her fingers over the door. "Sorry, I actually came for Rome. Ivy is here. And she wants to talk.”
My body fills with nervous energy. It’s a good sign, if she came all this way, but I’m not ready to assume it means she wants everything. I want it too much. I’ll be too crushed if it’s not the case.
“Did you see that episode drop? Have you listened yet? What does it say? Oh my god, that will take my mind off things. Good thinking. Well, hop on it, kid. Danny, close your eyes, so you don't see anything."
He shoots me that same knowing look first. "You better go get your girl."
"You better… close your eyes," I say.
"Good one." He laughs and puts his hand over his eyes.
I slip out the door.
Cynthia is already in her dress, and she looks beautiful. Radiant. She throws her arms around me. "I'm glad she made it."
"Me too."
"Don't fuck it up." She kisses me on the cheek and returns to her room.
I move down the stairs. Into the living room, where Ivy is waiting in the foyer.
The space is already set up for the reception. Right now, it's quiet. All the guests are in the backyard. Not that it's a lot of people.
Mom. A few friends. Some relatives. Cynthia's parents.
Ivy stands under a Congratulations banner.
She looks beautiful and perfect and nervous.
The sight of her soothes something in me. Some place that’s afraid. No, not just the sight. The smell, the sound, the feeling of her presence.
I like being around her.
It’s really that simple.
"Hey." Her voice is nervous. Like she doesn’t know how to say all the right things.
"Hey." Mine is too. I barely recognize it. After all, I don’t get nervous. I don’t put my heart on the line enough to risk anything. Or I didn’t.
"I'm not sure I got the timing quite right. I was too nervous to tell you about the episode. And I wanted to ask how you’d like to handle your identity. I can decline to share more details. Or I can share some incorrect ones. I can even find another escort willing to go on record as my mystery man. So no one will know it’s you.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“You don’t?” Confusion streaks her eyes.
She’s right to be confused. I do care about that. I don’t want someone else to take my place as the man who rocked her world. Even if it risks more people finding the truth.
I don’t want to lie anymore.
“Don’t,” I say. “Tell people the truth.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Ivy smooths her teal midi dress. It's perfect. Exactly how I imagine her on formal occasions, yet completely different. A soft silk that drapes over her curves and falls just past her knee. Smooth enough to touch. Formal yet casual.
"You look beautiful."
"Thanks. I was jealous of how Cynthia looked in this in purple, so I figured, hey, if she doesn't like it, why let the cut go to waste?" She takes another step towards me. "You do too."
"Beautiful?"
She nods. "Handsome too. And maybe a little ragged."
"Hey."
She smiles. "I'm trying something. Honesty."
"Brutality is more like it."
"Still handsome though," she says.
"Better." I take another step towards her.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the podcast," she says. "I didn't want you to go and listen to every episode and get this idea of me. The wrong idea. Because it wasn’t me. It was Meredith. And I wasn’t ready to share that part of me, yet. I didn’t know you. And, well, I didn't want you to say no. I was desperate for some content. I was desperate to make it work. To finally succeed at something."