But I do want it. Every pain he inflicts, every act of dominance only heightens my desire for him.
He picks up after two rings. “How’d it go?” he asks without saying hello.
My heart skips a beat.He remembered.Gina would have needed reminding.
“Great! At least I think it went great. It’s hard to tell because they just sit and stare at you and make notes on their notepads. But I did as well as I could have. I felt good. I felt confident.”
“Congratulations! Are you headed home? Why don’t I pick you up there in an hour, and we’ll go out to dinner to celebrate?”
My heart tumbles around in my chest. “Sounds great, thanks!”
I take the subway train home and open the door.
I stop short when I see someone inside. It's cleaning day, but they should have been gone by now.
“Oh, great, you’re home!”
I stare in shock as Stacy, Bobby’s ex-girlfriend, walks toward me with a smile, carrying a half-full glass of wine. She's wearing a tight leather mini-skirt and even smaller top, her breasts practically spilling out of her push-up bra.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Bobby asked me to come. He didn’t tell you?”
My stomach tightens. I hate everything about this–especially after what happened last time I talked to her. “Uh, no.” I pull my phone out to double-check for a text.
Stacy lowers her lashes and gives me a seductive look. “Yeah, he said he wanted to try a threesome with the two of us. Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise.”
I continue to stare blankly at my cell phone as if it would somehow decode the situation. Was that why he arranged to meet me here so early? Not to take me to dinner but for a threesome?
I feel nauseous. I have no interest in a threesome. Especially not with Stacy, whose cheap floozy look and pushy personality turn me off. Maybe if Bobby were here, I would feel differently. He's pushed me sexually in other ways, and I enjoyed it. But God, he should’ve talked to me about it first! And to say we're celebrating my interview and then pull this surprise instead– none of it sits well with me.
“Mind if I put on some music?” Stacy asks.
“Um...sure. Go ahead.”
“I opened a bottle of wine,” she calls over her shoulder. “Bobby said we should get the party started before he gets here. Did he say what time he’s coming?”
I swallow, trying to push down the growing sense of violation I feel. “He should be here soon,” I mutter.
Stacy puts on some dance music and cranks the volume. She dances back, pulling off her top to reveal her breasts stuffed in a bra at least two sizes too small.
“Go get some wine!” Stacy calls out over the music.
I walk to the kitchen, annoyed when I see the state of it. Stacy obviously struggled with the cork, which lays in pieces all over the counter. She spilled wine while pouring it and didn’t bother to wipe it up. Pieces of cork float on the top of the wine, so when I pour myself a glass, I have to fish them out.
I take a sip and head back into the living room, knowing I don’t want wine or her in my home. Certainly not my bed. But I don’t make the rules.
Stacy dances over to me, insinuating her body against mine in a gyration to the beat. “Come on! Bobby said we should get started without him! Imagine how hot it will be for him to find us making out when he gets here!” She puts her hands on the two sides of my face and comes in close for a kiss.
I pull away. I have no interest in this threesome, especially not without Bobby here.
The door opens as Stacy pulls her lips away and Bobby comes in, his brows drawing together.
He frowns and looks confused. “What the fuck?”
Realizing I’ve been had–again–I take a step back from Stacy.
“I came for that threesome we always talked about,” she trills.