by Alexis Angel
“Yeah, Daphne, that was some kind of fucking,” Dominic says.
I think about his words, even though his mouth is pressing little kisses over my clothing. He kisses my pussy, my thighs, my legs, my breasts after he pulls my shirt back down.
He can’t possibly always fuck like this. I know that I never have. Fucking Dominic makes me reconsider just about anything I’ve ever considered a decent lay. I knew my birthday surprise had ended up being pretty damn boring, but even the sexual experiences that I thought were good in the past seem utterly garbage compared to this.
God, my whole body is spent from the sheer strength of the orgasms I had. He fucked me so deep that I’m going to be sore for days.
Guys my age don’t know shit about sex, you can trust me on that. Just look at the smug grin on his face all over again. The one that tells me, yeah, I fucked you so raw and I could do it again.
Fuck, he can’t keep looking at me like this.
I sit up finally and smile at him. I stand up to kiss him and for a second I think he might push me back on the bed and start all over, but he takes my hand and pulls me out of the bedroom. If I’m not mistaken, the urgency in his movement has everything to do with the fact that he’s afraid he’ll be just as naughty as me if we stay in there.
49
Daphne
So tonight, I get to face the firing squad. It was Ashley’s idea for everyone to get together and unwind over some drinks, but I know what’s going to happen. Carla has told everyone and their bellmen about Dominic and I. They’re all going to want deets—maybe even the bellmen for all I know—and when I say “deets,” I mean all of the deets.
I’ve watched Ashley and Lisa and Carla share dick pics with each other. They’re going to want to know how big Dominic is, and when I tell them that their boyfriends have nothing on Dominic, they’re going to think I’m full of shit. Which I don’t blame them; I had no idea a guy could be so huge until I saw Dom’s dick that first time.
Oh God, I don’t have any dick pics to share with them! I’m panicking for a moment, wondering if I should text Dominic and tell him to send me some, but then I force myself to breathe in deep. It’s going to be okay. Dick pics, or the lack thereof is not the problem. I’m focusing on it ‘cause … well, ‘cause I don’t want to think about what the real problem is.
The real problem is Dominic and I’s previous relationship, of course. You know, that one that lasted for eight years. They’re going to think that he’s some sort of lecher. That we’re in some sort of incestuous relationship. It doesn’t matter that we’re not related by blood. It’s going to be tough trying to tell them that this is legal.
Maybe questionable morally, but legal.
I plaster a confident smile on my face and step out of the Uber. Ashley is walking up at the same time, so we hug and chitchat on the way in and I pretend that everything is fine and I’m not nervous. They’re my friends. They’re not going to take me out back and start throwing rotten tomatoes at me, right?
The super hot waiter comes and goes, and my besties spend the whole time giggling over his hot ass and wondering aloud about the size of his dick, but I just can’t get into it. My smile has been so firmly plastered onto my face, it feels like it’s cracked and dried in place and will soon be falling off me in chunks.
“Okay Daph, you have to tell,” Lisa finally says, breaking through Carla and Ashley’s discussion over whether Prada or Jimmy Choo’s new line of shoes is more drool-worthy.
Everyone falls silent, and is staring at me.
I don’t want to tell them anything.
Except…they already know. Thanks to Carla’s eagle eyes (okay, so Dominic and I weren’t exactly discreet) and big mouth, half of Manhattan knows, and probably most of Long Island.
So this is just my chance to explain my side of the story.
No rotten tomatoes. No rotten tomatoes.
“Remember my ill-fated birthday present?” I ask. Everyone nods expectantly. No one is going to forget that story for a long time. “Well, I went down to the bar at Bemelmans afterwards and ran into Dominic. He’d just broken it off with a friends-with-benefits-who-was-getting-clingy—you know the type. We started chatting and…
“You guys, I’ve never felt this before. It’s seriously like sticking my finger into a light socket every time I see him. He’s so damn sexy; I have no idea what my mother was thinking, giving him up.
“Well, I do know—she doesn’t like dick. Something I just don’t even understand.” I take a deep breath. I'm absolutely, positively not going to freak out. These are my friends. They love me. They sometimes even like me. It’s going to be fine.
Totally fine.
“Anyway, I know what you guys are wondering—did we fuck when I was in high school? And the answer is no, absolutely not. Dominic wouldn’t cheat on my mom. It was never like that. I mean, I thought he was cute when we were in high school, but in like, an old dude sort of way. You know, how you think Brad Pitt is cute.
“But I never in a million years thought we’d fuck each other. I just didn’t expect it to happen. I don’t want you guys to think any less of me, or of him. He’s not really my dad, I just called him that for years and he was a lot more like my dad than my real dad ever was, considering I never met him but I’m not some hick from the Ozarks who thinks it’s okay to—”
“We know,” Ashley says, gently breaking into my long-winded, worried spiel. “None of us think that.”
I stare, the rest of my explanation dying on the tip of my tongue. My eyes flit from face to face, understanding and encouragement on each of them. “You…you’re okay? You’re not here to tell me that I’m an awful human being?”
“Of course not,” Lisa says, reaching across the table and squeezing my hand. “All we want is for you to be happy, and if it’s Dominic who makes you happy, then we’re all for it.”
Carla leans over and nudges me with her elbow. “So, spill the beans; what’s it like to fuck an older guy? Does he know what he’s doing in bed? How many orgasms a night?” She wiggles her eyebrows naughtily, and I laugh. I feel the tension ease from my shoulders as I start to really believe them, as what they’re saying starts to really sink in.
“Well, I know you guys aren’t going to believe me, but I’m being serious when I say that I think Dom’s dick—”
“Drinks and chips and salsa for everyone,” the waiter says behind me, and begins placing the drinks on the table. I swear to God, I’m about seventeen shades of red right now. He sets a bowl of chips and black-bean salsa in the middle and walks away. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was about to break out into laughter.
Oh God…
“Anyway,” I whisper, leaning forward, “his dick is huge. I mean, massive. There are stallions out there who are jealous right now, wishing they had his dick. I’ve seen your guys’ dick pics,” I say with a wave of my hand when they start pulling out their phones to show me proof that I couldn’t be more wrong, “but seriously, nothing on Dominic.” Ashley looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, but I ignore her and plunge on.
“He is fucking amazing in bed. Roger … oh my God. Not even the same species, I’d swear it under oath. In bed, and out of it, they just have nothing in common. And one time, Dominic started sending me sexts while I was at work, and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through the day.” I grin naughtily to myself, remembering that evening after I’d finally gotten off work. It had been worth the wait … and then some.
“I'm really happy for you, Daph,” Carla says, reaching across the table and squeezing my hand. “You’ve had such shitty luck in the past with your boyfriends—Roger, and even before him. I’m so glad that you’re finally finding someone who will make you happy.” She gave my hand another squeeze and then released it to take a sip of her strawberry margarita.
The conversation drifts on, back to Prada and Jimmy Choo, and I sit back, just basking in the glow of being accepted for who I am. For having picked out such aweso
me friends that they support me through it all.
Between Dominic and my friends and my awesome career, I really do have it all.
50
Dominic
I click on a different cell in Excel and type in the formula to calculate the ROI on the currency trade that I’m looking to do this afternoon. If I—
My office door bangs open and Heather barges in, looking like a wild woman. Her hair is sticking every which way, and her clothes are grungy and disheveled. I stand up from my desk, staring at her in surprise. What the fuck…?
“I’m so sorry,” my secretary says, sticking her head around the door and looking at me. “I tried to stop her and she just bust right past me.”
“It’s okay,” I say to my worried secretary. “She’s just going to stay for a minute and then leave, right, Heather?”
Heather crosses over to my desk and plants herself in front of me as my secretary closes the door behind her.
“Dominic, you don’t call me anymore. It’s been two whole weeks and you haven’t called me yet!” Her voice is a whiny, high-pitched noise that grates on my nerves. What the fuck did I ever see in this woman? I can’t begin to guess now, looking at her.
“Heather, we’re done. Remember? You threw your drink in my face in the middle of a bar.”
She may not remember, but I do. That drink is what led me to Daphne. I’ll never tell Heather this, but for that simple fact, I’m grateful to her for being a complete bitch. Not grateful enough to actually want to date her, but grateful enough not to call the police on her.
There are levels of gratefulness, you know.
“That was just a … misunderstanding,” she says, waving her hand around in the air as if to brush it all away. “I was upset. You can’t be mad at me for caring about you so much that I’d get upset when you didn’t see things the way you should.”
She crosses around the side of my desk and over to me, placing her hand on my arm to look up at me adoringly. Or at least what I’d assume is supposed to be adoringly. Up close, she looks even more scary than she did on the other side of the desk—from here, I can see things like her makeup is smudged under her eyes, instead of carefully applied like it normally is, and her lipstick is just a little off, making her lips seem crooked on her face.
Fucking nuts.
“Heather, there is nothing to see about ‘the way things are.’ You and I are done. Finished. We’ve both moved on to other things.”
“I haven’t! I love you, Dominic, can’t you see that?” Her hands, which had been so lovingly placed on my arm, are now starting to dig into my arm, cutting off circulation. I pull her fingers off me, one at a time, and put her hands back down by her side.
“We’re done. There’s nothing more to discuss.”
“I have pictures!” she crows, switching topics so fast, I almost don’t keep up with her. She digs around in her purse and pulls out some pics of Daphne and I kissing that night on the curb next to the limo. Apparently we had two people watching us that night—Carla and Heather.
“You shouldn’t be dating her, Dominic. That's a very bad thing to do. She’s your daughter!”
“She’s my ex-stepdaughter. My ex-wife approves. I really don’t see how this has anything to do with you. I’ve got work to do, Heather. You need to go home and sleep.” And stop drinking, I think to myself. The smell of alcohol on her breath is so strong, it’s almost hard to breathe.
“You’re going to be sorry!” she yells as I open up my office door and propel her through it, past my gaping secretary, and out into the bright sunshine outside. “I’ll make you pay!”
“First, go to sleep. The world will look better when you wake up. And Heather? If you come back here again, I’ll call the police.” I close the door on her tirade and with a sigh, head back to my office.
Mental note to self: Buy my secretary some flowers. She deserves them after having to witness that today.
51
Daphne
With a happy but tired grin, I walk out of the Equinox gym. I love a good workout. It’s such a good feeling—makes me feel like I can take on the world. I pull out my phone, slinging my gym bag over my shoulder, as I start down the sidewalk. I should find an Uber so I can get home and—
“Hi, Daphne,” a woman says, showing up right next to my elbow.
“Whoa!” I yelp, jerking back in surprise. This is New York City, there are people everywhere. I’m not surprised by having a person right next to me. I am surprised by them knowing my name.
“I know who you are,” the woman says. “I used to date Dominic Masters. I know that you’re dating him right now. Want to see my pictures?” She digs into her purse and pulls out some pics of Dominic and I kissing, leaning up against the limo that night that he surprised me outside of my apartment. “He’s your stepdad, you know.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I say drily, shoving the pictures back at her. “Thanks for the newsflash, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to go home.” I start walking faster, hoping to lose the woman. I have my Nikes on; I can take off at a run if I need to. She’s got heels on; she’d probably have a hard time keeping up.
“But do your coworkers know? Does your boss know? I think the employees of the New York Presbyterian Hospital would be intrigued to find out that their rising star is breaking incest laws!” Now she’s shouting, and my steps are going faster because she’s creeping me the fuck out. How dare she threaten my career!
I unlock my phone in my hands, trying to find the Uber app through my panic. I can’t actually call the police; the woman hasn’t done anything but show me some pictures. But I can get the hell out of dodge.
“Listen, I’m just warning you because someone might tell them. You don’t want to throw your career away over him, I promise. I’m Heather; did he tell you that we used to date?”
Ohhhhh…this is the infamous Heather. Ms. Clingy, Ms. Gin-Tossing-In-The-Middle-of-a–Bar Heather. I look her up and down quickly, and mentally shrug. She seems hot enough, if she wasn’t also a little on the nuts side.
“Daphne, you have to listen to me,” she says pleadingly, putting her hand on my arm. We slow to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, humanity flowing around us. We both ignore the world and just focus on each other. “Do you know what he’s promised me? Did he tell you how he broke my heart? He says that I knew from the get-go that we were just going to be fuck buddies, but I didn’t. That’s something that he conveniently came up with later. In the beginning, I was the love of his life. He’s never been around someone as amazing as me. I completed him. Does any of that sound familiar?”
Oh my God, it does. I nod jerkily, hating her for saying those words, but also knowing I needed to hear them. If what she is saying is true…
All of those things were things he’s said to me. What if he’s just stringing me along, like he apparently did to Heather?
“Then, after all I’ve done for him, he’s suddenly too good for me. Daphne, you have to be careful. He’ll get bored with you and he’ll dump you like yesterday’s trash. Then what happens when you don’t have a career anymore because you’ve screwed yourself over?”
I feel a flush of panic wash over me. I’ve worked really hard to get as far as I have at the hospital. As a woman, I have to work harder and longer than the men to get ahead. I have student loan bills to pay off, dammit! I can’t ruin it all for a guy who's willing to say anything to get into my pants.
And really, what do I know about him? Yeah, he was married to my mom for a while, but then they got divorced. He hasn’t had a steady relationship since then. Doesn’t that say something about him?
“Here’s my card with my number. Text me your number,” Heather says as she hands me her business card. “We can talk more later. I have to get going.”
I numbly send it to her, and then watch as she turns and heads back down the street, fading into the crush of the clogged New York streets.
What have I gotten myself into?
52
Dominic
Sunday dinners, cooked by Mary. I’d missed these dinners, but looking around the table now, inhaling the smells wafting up from the bulgur and cashew stuffed eggplant, I’m in heaven again.
Except for Heather. She’s shown up at my office twice more this past week, and I’ve had to take a restraining order out against her. At this rate, I’m going to have to put my secretary on a standing order with the florist; she can get a new bouquet of daisies, her favorite, every Tuesday and Thursday. I’m quite afraid I’m going to end up losing her, all over an insane woman who doesn’t understand the word “no.”
Daphne seems quiet tonight. She’s been quiet for the last week, actually. I’m not sure what’s going on. I’ve been sidetracked by Heather’s reappearance in my life and some new clients at work, that we haven’t been able to spend enough time together. I vow to myself to make time this week, in her schedule and mine, for her to come back to my place and spend some … quality time in the bedroom. I can buy some rose-scented lotion and give her a full-body massage to help her loosen up. Plus, bonus points—I get to run my hands all over her body. I can pay special attention to her—
“How are things going at work?” Mary asks, interrupting my pleasant daydreams.
“Fine. Some new clients are keeping me busy.” And some ex-girlfriends are making me insane.
“This weekend, a bunch of my friends and I were going to go to a concert over at the Barclay Arena,” Daphne says, looking straight at me, almost like it’s a challenge. “Carla got us some good seats. Will you be able to come?”
I pause, fork midway to my mouth, staring at Daphne. I’d love to say yes, of course I would, but we can’t be public about our relationship. Not right now. Especially not with Heather out there, going a little more crazy every day. We have to be careful.
