Grinding my teeth, I bite back a retort. Instead, I simply say, “Like I said, I bought this with my own money. Is there a problem with that?”
“Just make sure you take it home with you,” Patrick says, turning to go back to his office. “We don’t have a secure place to lock that up and store it. If you leave it here, it’s at your own risk.”
As he slinks back into his office, I flick him off.
“Ms. B, language!” Mitchell says, walking into the center doors behind me. “Well, sort of.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “C’mon, Mitchell. You’ll never guess what’s in this bag!”
“No fuckin’ way!”
Mitchell and I walk to the arts room, while he animatedly talks about which photos he’s going to print first. I dismiss my conversation with Patrick, shoving it to the back of my mind. I cannot handle his piss poor attitude about this place and the kids that I’ve come to care for so deeply.
“What, no video chat tonight?” I teasingly ask Corey over the phone.
It’s been almost a week since he visited me, and while my pussy seems to have recovered from the delicious beating she took, my heart feels like it’s wrapped in a vise. The more days that have passed, the more time I’ve had to reflect on my feelings for Corey and, well, I’m genuinely concerned I’m falling into the “too much, too fast” feeling zone.
Corey chuckles and I feel a little disappointed that I can’t see the accompanying smile. “It’s been a long day, princess. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, a little sarcastically, although it’s taking everything in me to not whine about it a bit. Maybe if I whine about it—”
“Don’t be a brat, Bex,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I promise we’ll video chat tomorrow.”
There’s an awkward silence before I finally say, “Okay.”
He clears his throat and says, “Tell me about your day.”
So, I tell him about the photography class at the youth center, how only a few kids showed up this week, but how engaged they were.
“We didn’t even make it outside to take pictures,” I say. “The kids were so excited about printing some of their favorite pictures they’ve taken already. I think we printed so many pictures today, the printer might already need new ink.” I laugh, but wince internally. The ink cartridges aren’t inexpensive, but it’s worth seeing the excitement and pride on their faces.
“If there’s anything I can do—”
“No! Oh, Corey. No. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply—”
“Bex, baby, shhh.” Corey’s voice calms me into a verbal submission. “I know you weren’t asking me for anything. I want to help, if I can.”
His gentle tone sends a surge of emotion through me and tears prick my eyes. Suddenly, I’m glad we aren’t video chatting.
“Corey—” I say, my voice betraying me and breaking with emotion.
“Bex, talk to me.”
“I just never expected… you.” The words slip out, but it’s the truth. If you had told me a few months ago I would meet a customer in the high limit room who, not only was hot as fuck, but wanted to pursue me? I would have laughed in your face. But we’ve gotten so close over the last several weeks, emotionally and physically; it feels beyond any fantasy I could have had about this man.
Corey sighs and is quiet for a moment before he says, “I feel the same about you.”
A comfortable silence follows, and I place my phone on my chest, hearing his breaths come through my speaker and wishing he were lying on top of me, holding me.
“What about an art show?” Corey says after a while.
“Hmmm?”
“Didn’t Britney mention it the other night? Now that you have a way to print these photos, couldn’t the kids put on, like, a gallery show?”
I grind my teeth at the memory of Britney suggesting this. She means well, completely, but it’s still a far-fetched idea. And it’s certainly not something I want to even suggest to the kids unless I have the ability to pull it off.
“I don’t know,” I say, picking at my nails. “It would be amazing. The kids would absolutely love it, of course. But…”
