She reached for her phone. It was a habit by now, a…routine and her way of claiming her morning before it claimed her.
The screen lit up her face.
New Appointment.
Client:Debra Allen.
Requested Service:TheFull Service.
Date:Saturday, 11 a.m.
Billie stared at the notification, her jaw clenching to the point that it almost hurt. Of course Debra had booked again—why wouldn’t she? And Billie, the complete fool that she was, felt the smallest flicker of hope in her chest before she crushed it flat.
She set her phone down on the bedside table and rubbed her hands over her face. She had forty-eight hours to figure out how to pull this back into something resembling professionalism. She had to scale it down and rein it in. She had to remind Debra—and herself—what the boundaries were.
Except she didn’t know how.
Since when do you have boundaries in the fitting room?
Billie had plenty of boundaries when it came to herself, but her clients could take as much or as little as they wanted from her. That’s how it had always been, and that’s how it wouldalwaysremain.
She exhaled slowly and leaned back against the headboard. Every inch of her wanted to pull up Debra’s booking form and cancel the service entirely, or at least reschedule her for a standard fitting. Perhaps even pretend that yesterday had been a momentary lapse of judgement, but she couldn’t do that. Not when Debra had looked Billie in the eye and trusted her.
Trust.
That word landed hard this morning.
She closed her eyes, and she was right back there again. The memory she’d spent years starving out of existence was as vivid as ever before.
The old apartment. The ex. Laughter as sharp as the broken glass she’d walked through barefoot the night she’d left for the final time. A hand around her wrist, too tight and too familiar. The apologies that came soaked in whiskey…the threats that came dripping in need.
Her ex had known exactly how to make affection feel like a trap, and Billie had walked into it willingly, mistaking hunger for devotion. Mistaking jealousy for care and violence for passion. Because back then, she hadn’t known that love should never require you to disappear in order to keep someone else whole.
You make me crazy,her ex used to whisper, her fingers tracing the bruises she’d caused.You make me love you too much.
Billie’s stomach tensed.
That was the last time she’d let anyone close enough to rewrite the rules of her body or her mind. After that, she’d rebuilt from the rubble. She’d learned control. She’d turned intimacy into craft, desire into skill, and women into clients she could please without ever being touched in return.
Control was her protection and distance was her oxygen. But touch? That was something she gave,neversomething she allowed herself to want.
Until Debra.
Until yesterday.
Billie pressed her thumb to the bridge of her nose, willing the memory to fade. Debra’s soft aggression and that gentle, unexpected way she’d pulled Billie in. God, even now, she could feel the imprint of Debra’s hands on her waist, guiding her back and forth until Billie forgot which one of them was supposed to be in control.
That was the problem.
It wasn’t about the sex or the desire. It was the loss of control, and it was the way Debra made her feel like a person instead of a fortress.
Billie swung her legs out of bed and stood, needing movement and needing distance from her own thoughts. She strolled across her apartment, the chill of the hardwood floor grounding her. Coffee first, then a plan. She would figure out how to look Debra Allen in the eye in two days’ time without giving away the storm gathering under her skin.
The coffee machine hummed to life as Billie braced her hands on the counter.
Shehadto pull back. There was no two ways about it. If she didn’t, she would lose the version of herself that kept her safe. But as the memory of Debra moaning against her mouth surfaced, Billie’s resolve faltered. For a heartbeat, she let herself imagine it. A life that didn’t require steel ribs and barbed edges. A life where she let someone in again.
Then she shut the thought down.
