I wash my face, blow out a long breath, and shove my hair into a messy bun on top of my head, then put on sweatpants and an Oversized Navy Pier t-shirt.
Comfortable. Ordinary.
Totally miles away from the woman who just got finger-fucked in a dark room by a masked stranger.
The train ride backto campus is a blur.
When I get home, the girls are sprawled across our hideous Goodwill floral couch, half a pizza sitting like a sad centerpiece on the rattan coffee table. I grab a slice, shove half of it into my mouth, and flop down next to Rylee.
“Where were you?” she asks. “Luke just slept with Verona, then ran to tell Alexis he’s in love with her.”
I glance at the TV. Sure enough, Luke is whispering sweet nothings to Alexis while Verona is probably somewhere crying into her ring light.
Poor Alexis.
Poor Verona.
Poor, clueless, average, emotionally constipated Luke.
He’s got nothing compared to my stranger.
I’m not ashamed, not really. What I’ve done with my stranger made me feel good. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
I felt powerful. Desired. Free.
Uninhibited in a way I’ve never been before.
And this time, Vasiliy handed me two thousand dollars before I walked out the door.
Cash.
Down the rabbit hole I go.
What would my friends say if I told them the truth?
That I danced for a stranger behind a locked door.
That I let himtouchme.
Would they call it gross? Dangerous? Slutty? Creepy?
WouldI?
Was I being reckless?
But… he didn’t feel like a creep.
He didn’t act like one.
He was fit. Well-dressed. Clean.
He smelled incredible, like pine trees after rain and sin.
And he’s very controlled, controlled enough to keep himself from coming, even as I ground myself against him.
And he seems…powerful. He reminds me of a caged panther, elegant and dangerous.
And I should find that off-putting.
