No. It can't be.
Impossible.
But that voice is unmistakable.
Faith Easton isLuna?
It’s undeniable. Her voice is damn near identical to Luna’s from last night. I flash back to Easton’s Eatery last week when she waited on our table while my heart hammers in my chest.
No. It’s not ‘damn near’ identical.
Itisidentical.
The only thing that kept me from recognizing her voice last night is, it was too far out of context for me to piece together.
My mind races through every detail I remember from last night. The mask made her face and eyes impossible to see, but some things are obvious. Her curvy build in the jean shorts she was wearing. The dark blonde hair.
Faith fucking Easton went to the sex club? She’s ‘Luna?’
I want to ask her if Daddy knows where she was last night.
All of this realization hits me within the second that I’m holding Faith’s hand.
I search for her eyes, but she doesn’t make eye contact.
Typical sub behavior, some voice inside me says. I think Alexandria at the club last night told me that subs often won’t want to make eye contact.
I actually feel my dick twitch, and even though I am not super-religious, the amount of turned on I am getting inside these four walls feels incredibly wrong.
And hot.
Where my eyes were flitting back and forth, now it’s all I can think about.
I let go of her hand.
I let my eyes linger on her a little longer than I probably should. Mr. Easton is probably going to notice I’m checking out his daughter.
And guess what? I don’t give a fuck.
Yes, Faith is the same height, and build as Luna.
It’s too crazy to be true though. Faith is the goodest of the good girls. She has a rock on her damn finger this morning. We went tobible camptogether. Keith is herhigh school boyfriend. I never even had a shot to try and date her.
And she was flirting with me last night, whileengaged?
I realize it’s a good thing I don’t say ‘peace be with you’ back to her, because she’d then likely know that Hunter was Thor and Thor was Hunter, by the sound of my voice.
IfFaith is indeed Luna. This seems too crazy to be true, so there’s something I have to do:
I have to test my theory.
I sit down, hunched over, pretending like I’m saying a prayer…or reflecting on the sermon, or something.
What I’m really doing is sending “Luna” a text, a definite no-no in church.
Hey there. I needed to tell you I had the most amazing time talking to you last night. You have incredible eyes. They’re like little blue moons. I can’t stop thinking about how dilated they’d get if you…you know. Never mind, it’s Sunday morning. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. I blame you. Luna.
I hit send, and my heart races when I hear the faintest buzzing coming from the handbagright behind Faith.
