Gritting her teeth, Jay filled the cup again, bracing herselfagainst the counter. The alcohol was making her too hot, so she stepped out of her pants, kicking them beneath the card table as she walked the dozen or so steps it took to get to her sleeping area.
The strap of her bra slid down her shoulder when she dropped down on her bed. Jay started to adjust it automatically and then froze, glancing at her phone, remembering—
(quid pro quo)
She set her cup of wine on the stack of hardcovers that served as her nightstand and nearly fell off the bed. Breathing a little harder, not letting herself think too hard about what she was doing, she began undoing the buttons of her blouse.
The dim orange lighting in the room was soft, shadows fuzzing the farthest corners and leaving dusky shadows on her skin. She could see herself in the cheap IKEA mirror propped up against her closet, shirt hanging open around the fancy French underwear Nicholas had bought for her and the body she had never let herself love.
She touched herself experimentally, running a hand over her torso, closing her hand briefly over her own neck before sliding her fingers down her front, all the way to her waistband.
Feeling ashamed (but not ashamed enough tostop), she clumsily opened her lock screen and swiped through the photos until she came to the one that she had saved. Nicholas, and his swimmer’s body, with those too-broad shoulders and those lean washboard abs.
She had dreamed of him—before. God, she had hated it, because she hadn’t hated it enough. Dreams where he’d sneak into her room and tie her to her bed, torturing her with his hands and tongue—you really thought I’d let you get away?—before impaling her roughly on his swollen cock. She would wake upfeeling as achy as if he had fucked her, with arousal clinging to her thighs, and she would turn and gasp to her boyfriend, “Danny, I need you,please.”
He'd thought that was so cute, that she called him that. He thought she was sweet. What would he have thought of her if he knew that she was picturing another man on top of her during those sweaty, feverish sessions where they were both still sleepy enough thatDaddycould still sound like Danny, and maybe he wouldn’t notice if she lifted her hips and took himdeeper, urging him to a more forceful cadence that still left her so unsatisfied that she wanted to scream.
But she had stayed with him, because she was a good girl, and he was a nice boy, and she wasn’t supposed to crave the things that would rip her apart.
(Not if that’s what you want)
Her nipples had grown painfully stiff. She plucked at one through the lace, arching into her own hand, and as she closed her eyes, she imagined it was his stern mouth against her skin. His hands dipping into her panties, rolling over the slickness of her clit—you beautiful little whore.
She shuddered violently.
Sex with Nicholas had always had the faint sting of punishment. She remembered being so surprised the first time that she had been with another man, just how little she felt afterwards.
She wanted to feel. She wanted it to hurt.
Who hurt you, Jay?
A slow, drunken smile tilted up the bitter corners of her mouth as she watched her own hand move on the screen. Watching herself fuck herself.
You did.
Nicholas never seemed to know what to do with her when she was the one in control. Just because he was 6’4” and had more money than any one person could possibly need in a single lifetime, he thought he could do whatever he pleased.
A drink and a fuck, thought Jay, pushing her hair out of her face. This time, when her bra strap slid down her shoulder, she didn’t bother to fix it.How’s that for quid pro quo?
She wondered if any of the women he’d hooked up with had ever sent him photos.
Had he ever looked at them and anticipated the long night ahead? Or was he cold and indifferent, the way he was in his business meetings?
She thrust two fingers inside herself and gasped.
He wouldn’t be cold for me.
She didn’t recognize the woman framed by her phone screen. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder in a heavy fall, hitting just above her heaving breasts, where the balconette bra was doing wonders for her cleavage. Even her round stomach and dimpled waist, which she normally couldn’t look at, seemed soft and pleasingly feminine.
She cupped herself between her legs and pushed out her chest, tilting her head down and to the side.Lift up on your thighs, Justine, her mother used to tell her.You have child-bearing hips and they make you look fat sitting down.She gave the camera lens a defiant look as she sat on her folded legs, deciding not to give a fuck if it made her stupid ass look big.
Click.
Her heart pounded as she typed out an accompanying message, one that would hit him well below the belt. She nearlydropped the phone, her hands were shaking so hard.
Oh my god, a panicky part of her brain whispered as she hit ‘send.’What did you just do?
I don’t care,said that stupid, defiant part of her brain.Fuck consequences.
