by Kailin Gow
“I don't judge, Sid,” says Kiley. “You know all about my sexual history. I don't judge anyone's weird kinks. Safe, sane, and consensual, that's how I roll.”
“It kind of turned me on,” I admit. “The controlling stuff. The you must come to my house at six p.m. Sharp. Stuff. I don't know...if I asked him to stop, I'm pretty sure he would stop. But the problem is...I am not sure I want him to stop.”
“What happened last night?” she asks me.
“He got me drunk. Told me how he wanted me. How he wanted to...control me. Make me submit.”
“And?”
“Nothing happened. We made dinner. Cuddled a bit. He put his hand on my shoulder, kissed my neck. But he didn't even kiss me on the mouth. And we didn't even...”
“So you didn't have sex?” Kiley looks confused. “A player like Philip – and he didn't even try to kiss you or anything?”
“It was like he was getting off on the tension or something...how much we wanted each other. But he wasn't acting on it. Not yet...and it just made me want him more. And then I drank too much and I fell asleep on his sofa and suddenly I wake up and he's naked and this enormous rock-hard cock is in my face, and...”
“Oh my God...” Kiley looks horrified. “He didn't...”
“No! He didn't...we didn't....apparently he sleeps naked. And I don't know what came over me. I saw his cock. And it was just so big and – I don't know. I touched it. And he woke up and smiled and started flirting with me and it was all so surreal and weird that I just kind of freaked out. I ran....I feel like an idiot.”
“It's his fault!” Kiley's voice is defensive, possessive. “Sleeping naked around his underling. You should get his ass fired...”
“I should,” I say. “But somehow...it feels like we're in some sort of weird game. Like this is all part of the game we're playing together. Like he knows it's what I want. And I know it's what he wants. Or I thought I did. He probably thinks I'm some sort of moron pervert...”
“He's the moron pervert, not you! Sleeping naked like that. Having you over.”
“But when I saw his cock, I wasn't freaked out...” I'm admitting my deepest, darkest thoughts. “I just remember wondering...if it would hurt. Inside me. Or if it would feel good...”
Kiley's smile is wistful. “You've got it bad, girl,” she says. “I don't know what to tell you. This sounds super sketchy – but also a little hot…like, if you're into it, more power to you I guess.”
“I'm a virgin, Kiley. I don't know this stuff.”
“You're scared?”
“Of the big things, like him being my boss. And of...him hurting me.”
“Because you're a virgin?”
“Because he's huge!” I clap my hands over my mouth. I can't believe how graphically I'm talking here. “I mean – any girl...when they're with someone like that.”
“Quite the opposite,” Kiley says. “Speaking from experience, it's all about the angles and the...technique. No cock's too big if you get the angles right. And once you learn to...loosen up and relax, that particular sensation of being filled up is the best part of sex. In my opinion. Just make sure you're...ready for it. Make sure he gets you wet, in other terms.”
“Oh,” I laugh nervously. This is definitely not the sex-ed class I had in middle school. “You'd think I'd know all this stuff already.”
“Your waiting thing...” Kiley says. “It's smart. Teenage boys and college students don't know what they're doing. All you missed was a bunch of limp dicks and sad blowjobs. Wait for Mr. Right – or at least, Mr. Experienced. No losers for you.”
“My whole life,” I say. “I saw my mom go through men like tissues. None of them stayed. None of them mattered. I just don't want that for myself.”
“Maybe your whole romantic thing might just work out,” says Kiley. “Look at me. I have a great time at night, but the next morning...I couldn't care less about most of the guys I fuck. Sometimes I wonder if I don't want a serious relationship instead. But you and this guy – be careful. But don't be ashamed. You need to learn to be confident sexually. To be okay wanting what you want. You don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed. I may not have romance in my life, but I am completely comfortable with my body. And that's a gift, too. Even if I don't have a Mr. Right in my life, I know how to avoid Mr. Wrongs.”
“So, I just have to get over what happened with Phil? I shouldn't be embarrassed?”
We pull up to our apartment. We walk up the six flights of stairs. How different the place seems after my night at Phil's! It looks smaller, dirtier, messier, sketchier than before. His gorgeous, minimalist villa makes this place look even more like a dump by comparison.
“If anyone should be embarrassed,” says Kiley, “it's him.”
“Well, I'm not going to let him embarrass me any longer,” I say. “I've got a dog food story to get – and I'm going to get the best damn story imaginable.”
“Good for you,” Kiley grins. “I'm proud of you, girl. Don't let any man get between you and your career goals.”
“I wouldn't say Missy Amy's dog's preferred kibble is a career goal.”
Kiley laughs. “Baby steps, Ace. Remember that. Baby steps.”
I change into more comfortable clothes. Clothes that belong to my old self. Loose jeans. Trainers. A tank top.
“Speaking of which...” Kiley says as I come back out. “I have some gossip for you that might help. I made friends with another bartender on my shift last night. Turns out, she goes to yoga with Amy's dog trainer. And she just texted me the details. There's a class on in an hour. The trainer's name is Simone – she's blonde with tattoos – my friend Sarah just texted a photo. Make friends with her and you can get the scoop you need.”
I grin. Kiley really does think of everything.
“Thanks, Kiley,” I say.
“Anytime, girl,” she says. “Now go get 'em, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. Maybe what happened wasn't so bad after all.
Chapter 14
I feel slightly better after talking to Kiley. Her confidence in me makes me feel better about myself. After all, I have nothing to be ashamed of, I think. Whatever it is that Philip LaFleur wants from me, it's his problem, not mine. His behavior is so totally out of the bounds of what is normal or appropriate that I can't be blamed for being confused, messed around. I've never met anyone so strange in my life. He wants to push the professional and personal envelopes, make me submit to his desires even as he stokes the flames of my own. He wants something strange and new: a whole new universe of my experience.
I've never felt this way before. As I look in the mirror at my new self: no longer in the makeup and perfect hair and pink bodycon dress I wore last night, I find myself meditating on how I used to look, how I look now. I'm wearing what might be considered my “old” clothes. jeans, ready to meet Missy Amy's dog trainer with, ready to practice my downward dog. A beat-up old tank top. A slick but simple ponytail. The clothing of the person I used to be before my night with Philip LaFleur. But as I stare into the mirror, I notice that there's something different about me. My face, my eyes. I'm not sure what it is, but whatever it is...I'm not the same person I was before. My eyes have more maturity in them: a darkness and a hunger that is entirely new.
I look older. I'm not twenty-three years old anymore, or if I am, then I'm a new kind of twenty-three: an unexpected change that alters and reshapes all of my features. My lips look redder, deeper, bolder. The expression on them is more sensual. My cheekbones look sharper, more defined, as a result of the rosy blush that has by now spread across my whole face.
“Stop preening,” Kiley teases me. “You know you're beautiful. Stop lording it over the rest of us.”
“What are you talking about?” I may be a lot of things, but I don't often feel beautiful. Beautiful is for girls like Kiley – well-made-up, well-coiffed, confident girls. Not for girls like me, who feel awkward in anything more than lip balm and mascara.
“Come on, girl,” Kiley rolls
her eyes. “Get away from the mirror and go get that yoga story.” I grin happily. I think I can do this. I'm going to get that dog story, impress Philip, work my way up in the ranks...
I bound down the stairs. My feet feel lighter than air. You can do this, Sidney, I think to myself. You've got this under control.
Then I see him coming up the stairs.
I stop short in surprise. His sandy blonde hair is flopping over his forehead, but I can still see the sweet, sure expression in his eyes, the gentle smile upon his lips that is spreading into a grin the moment he sees me.
“Johnson,” I breathe in surprise. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah...” he says, furrowing his brow. “I just thought I'd surprise you with a ride, that's all. I know how tough things have been for you lately...I didn't want you to have to walk or ride your bike after your accident.” He puts a protective hand on my shoulder. “I'm worried about you, Sid. I don't want you hurting yourself again so soon. After what that guy put you through.”
I flush. I'm almost embarrassed. It's like maybe he can see Philip on me or something – like somehow maybe he knows what it is that happened, although I don't know myself. I've never been embarrassed in front of Johnson before for any reason, but now I feel my face flush hot. I've showered, and yet I almost half-wonder if Johnson can smell Philip on me: that sensual and overwhelming musk that makes me weak in the knees.
“I should have come to check on you earlier,” Johnson says. “I'm sorry. I wanted to come last night, but I had a ridiculous deadline for this college football story and I had to make it.”
Oh God. What if Johnson had come by last night to find me out? He would have...I don’t know, but somehow I get the feeling that he wouldn't have been happy.
I love Johnson with all my heart, but sometimes the protective, possessive way he treats me feels a little intense. It's sweet, at the best of times, but yet deep down I know that if he heard I was out all night with another man, he wouldn't be happy. But it's not a sex-thing, exactly. I mean, in all the time we've known each other Johnson's never once made a move. I used to think he was gay. Or just asexual or something. But there's always this weird tension in the air.
“Need a ride to the office?” Johnson asks me.
“Oh,” I say. “Thanks, but no thanks. I mean – I'm not going to the office.”
Johnson's face falls. He looks more disappointed than I expected. “Oh, okay. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, don't worry!” I say. “It's nothing bad. I just have a source I heard about at Beverley Hills Yoga. Missy Amy's dog trainer goes there and I need to figure out what brand of dog food she likes.”
“Oh yeah,” Johnson makes a face. “I heard about that. I saw it on the story assignment board. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that wasn't a story you pitched.”
“However did you guess?” I roll my eyes. “Still, I'm going to do the best damn dog story the world has ever known.”
Johnson lets out a big groan and a laugh. “Oh Sidney,” he says. “I can't believe they assigned you that story, but I have to say: I love the way you're just jumping right into it. No gripes for you. You're always so cheerful and plucky. Definitely a Girl Friday. No wonder everyone loves you.”
“Not everyone,” I say, thinking of Kendall.
“Well, me in particular.” He says it lightly, but there's a wistfulness to his voice. “So let me help you. Give you a ride to yoga.”
He walks downstairs and we leave the apartment building together.
“Wow.” My jaw drops as I catch sight of Johnson's new car. It's a Mustang, shiny, vintage, electric blue.
Johnson's car collection has been one of those weird things we never exactly talk about. It's clearly his hobby, his passion. And it clearly costs a lot of money. But Johnson never talks about his family, or where the cash to buy these cars came from.
“You like how it rides?” he grins at me.
“Looks pretty sexy,” I admit.
He turns bright red. I like seeing how happy he is, showing off his car. It seems like Johnson's never so happy as he is when turning the key in the ignition of his new ride.
“It's very cool,” I say.
“I know,” Johnson says with pride. “Thank God my parents let me keep my cars at their place. They get kind of annoyed, but they figure it's not drugs or booze, at least. And they may be expensive, but I fix them up myself – sell them at a profit. The first big profit I made on my first car, I took my mom on a trip to Tahiti. Now they don't mind storing hem...”
“If I were them, I'd feel the same way,” I say. “I mean, they have the space, right?” Johnson's family has an enormous house in Brentwood: bought with the proceeds of Johnson and Sons Auto Dealership: one of the largest car dealerships in California. Johnson's family might not be wildly wealthy like the LaFleurs, but they're basically pretty well off. Not that Johnson would ever brag about it. Despite all his money, he's never been one to flash it about – not like Philip. He quietly pays for dinner when we go out, makes sure to give me cab fare when I'm trying to get home after a late night, but mostly we go out to normal places: dive bars, coffee shops, local restaurants. Nothing fancy or showy. Johnson's much too humble for that.
“My parents always love you,” Johnson says. He glances my way and takes my hand, squeezing it tight. “You should come 'round for dinner again sometime. They miss you. They practically want to adopt you – as weird as that would be, us being siblings?”
“Why?” I ask. After all, it's like we're siblings already.
Johnson turns a bright beet red. “Because we're adults,” he stammers.
“Okay.”
Johnson drives me to class. He pulls over in the parking lot.
“Shoot!” I realize that I haven't put on my yoga pants. “Johnson, I need to get changed in the back of your car – is that okay?”
“Uh...sure.”
I go round the side and get into the back seat, changing out of my jeans and into my yoga pants. I catch a glimpse of Johnson's face in the rearview mirror. He's not...looking, is he? Not Johnson – that would just be weird.
“Okay,” I bound out of the car. I'm all set for yoga now. Pants, tank, ponytail. The works. Now let's hope I remember my downward dog. The last time I was in a yoga class it was to spy on a Disney Channel star fresh out of rehab.
“Good luck, Sid!” Johnson beams at me. “You can do it.”
“I wish I'd thought of using Kiley as a source sooner,” I say. “It sure relieves a lot of stress having someone like her as a roommate. She should be working this job, not me.”
“Don't say that! You're the best reporter I know.”
“The LaFleurs aren't going to bring me down,” I say. “I won't let them. Kendall thinks she can walk over me. Well, I'll show her she's wrong.”
“I know you will. I have faith in you.”
He gets out of the car to high-five me.
“I'll be here when you get back,” Johnson says.
“You don't have to wait for me,” I laugh. “You'll be late.”
“Oh, Sidney,” Johnson looks sad all of a sudden. “I would wait for you forever....”
I'm so taken aback I hardly know what to say. First checking me out in my panties, now these cryptic statements. This isn't like the Johnson I know.
“Oh, uh, okay...” I stammer. “Um, thanks. Good to...uh...know...”
His face falls.
I want to stay, ask him what he meant, say something to comfort him, but it's too late. It's time for the Yoga Class to begin.
“Uh, bye!” I say awkwardly, and head to class.
Chapter 15
An hour later, I stride back out to the car. Johnson must know what's happened right away, since there's a huge smile on my face. I'm positively beaming.
“I take it someone's time at yoga went well?” He's smiling sadly at me. A note of pain is in his voice. Whatever happened with us earlier, it's still unresolved. There's some
thing strange in the air between us, now. But I can't focus on that. Not right now. Not when I have a big story to serve up in the proverbial food bowl. My story on Missy Amy's dog's chow is going ahead: full force. I've just gotten the closest thing to a scoop possible with this story. And I'm grinning from ear to ear.
“Yes indeed,” I say. I can't hold back my smile for another second. “You wouldn't believe what the dog trainer told me. So much information – it's not just a story, it's a whole other side to Amy.”
“Tell me!” Johnson looks excited. For a second his puppy-dog looks light up. The sad expression on his face vanishes.
“I can't!” I say. “I want it to be a surprise when I present it at the meeting.”
“For Philip, you mean?” His smile evaporates. He looks jealous, even angry.
“For Kendall!” I say. “And for you. I want to see Kendall's face when she sees what I've been able to turn the dog food story into.”
“Oh,” he looks a little bit less angry now. “That makes sense. I'll just have to listen like everyone else, then.”
“Don't worry, Johnson,” I say smiling, trying to make him feel better. “You're so far from being everybody else.”
It's not that I don't want to tell Johnson what happened. But I want to keep it a surprise. Part of me is a little nervous that Kendall will find some way to ruin my story, and I don't want to tell Johnson and jinx it.
Johnson drives me back to the FILTHY DIRTY LAUNDRY offices in silence. He's quiet, a little grim. Certainly subdued. I've never seen him like this.
I wonder what's going on with him. I really like him, care about him, take him seriously, but ever since my accident he's been making me wonder...
Am I being stupid? Am I just refusing to see something that's right in front of me, that's been right in front of me for years? Could Johnson really have feelings for me? I feel like that’s crazy. I mean, there were a hundred times he could have asked me out if he wanted to. I probably would have said yes, given it a shot– at least before we became such good friends that it would be weird.
