Four Letter Word

by J. Daniels

  Focus right here.

  Awesome. I was losing my mind. Or I had already lost it when I’d sent her that first message. There was no other explanation for my behavior.

  She took a whole fucking minute to respond.

  I’m Sydney, by the way. Hi.

  I smiled. Relief warmed my blood.

  Hey.

  Hey…you. No name? That’s not really fair. What am I supposed to program you in my phone as? Dildo sucker? Don’t lie…you’ve considered it. ;)

  I dropped my head with a laugh.

  Damn, she was delightful.

  And she wanted to program me into her phone. She wanted to know who I was.

  That felt good.

  Telling her my name wasn’t a huge issue. Not my first name anyway.

  Brian. And fuck no. Still not into anything involving dildos. You?

  Desire bloomed with a warm ache in my groin.

  Teetering on inappropriate? Yes. However, she opened the dildo discussion. I was simply continuing it.

  Hi Brian.

  Wild. Asked you a question.

  SMH.

  I didn’t think she was going to give me an answer. Then a few seconds later she leveled me with one.

  Dildos can be very useful when your husband stops wanting to have sex with you. I gotta run. My friend is waiting for me.

  I stared, mouth hanging open, rereading the same sentence repeatedly until I was certain I wasn’t imagining things.

  Husband. The fuck? I had no fucking idea how to take that. I didn’t believe she was married. The way she spoke last night, defending her friend with such conviction, there was no way she’d be going behind her husband’s back to text me. Even if this was purely innocent, which I honestly wasn’t sure if it was, what married woman would actively engage in a conversation about dildos with a man who wasn’t her husband?

  Maybe she was married? Isn’t anymore? How fucking old is this chick?

  The door chimed and Cole walked into the shop, carrying two bags of food. I quickly typed the only response I could think of without digging for answers.

  Later.

  I shoved my phone away and looked up as Cole dropped the bags on the counter. Jamie was right behind him.

  “Dude, fucking finally. How did you screw up the order?” Jamie asked.

  He began digging into one of the bags, pulling out containers and chopsticks and passing them out.

  Cole slowly looked over at him and glowered.

  “I didn’t screw it up. I asked for chicken and broccoli, hold the broccoli, which by the way is the dumbest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard. I could’ve just said chicken.”

  “Then I would’ve gotten plain chicken. I want it with the sauce, brother, and I don’t like trees in my food.” Jamie popped off the lid of his order. “What was the problem?”

  “They put trees in your food. You’re lucky I checked.”

  I watched the three girls exit the shop.

  “Underage?” I asked as Jamie turned his head at the sound of the chime.

  “Yep.”

  Cole laughed. “I’m surprised that stopped you.”

  “I like untapped pussy, not underage pussy, dick,” Jamie said, shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth. “I have some fuckin’ standards. Cut me some slack.”

  “For your one standard?” Cole asked.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket.

  I dropped my chopsticks, then my unopened container of noodles hit the counter so I could reach for the device, wondering if it was Sydney again.

  “Jesus, Dash.” Jamie laughed.

  Jamie always called me Dash.

  I ignored him and stared at the screen:

  Be here in twenty. I have someone requesting you.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, shoving my phone away and digging out my keys.

  I wasn’t angry about the text. I needed that fucking text, and that’s where my anger stemmed from. My dependence on it. I couldn’t say no.

  This was my life. My fucked-up life. And the only person I could hate for it was myself.

  I glanced up. Jamie and Cole both gave me a look, the look, full of sympathy and a hint of sadness, because they knew what I was about to do and felt sorry for me, given the reason behind why I was doing it.

  They were the only two people who knew about my other source of income.

  No, not income. Income was something you acquired and kept. I’ve never banked a dime of this money and I never would.

  I rounded the counter.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours. When that order arrives, make sure it’s right before you let them leave. It was a pain in the ass last time getting them to ship out the correct shit ’cause of their own fuckup.”

  They both mumbled something. Yeah, or you got it. The chime overpowered whatever they said and I didn’t care enough to turn back.

  I slipped out the door and climbed into my Jeep, sending Mike a brief reply so he’d know I was coming before grabbing the bottle of pills in my glove compartment.

  I popped the lid.

  A laugh threatened in my throat as I held the tiny blue tablet in my hand.

  How many times had I gotten hard today? I should’ve kept a tally.

  I didn’t have difficulty getting aroused at the thought of Sydney, at the memory of her voice, or the very idea of what she could possibly look like.

  Dark hair and green eyes, I had decided. She was mysterious and a little shy.

  I knew if I thought of her now, I could not only get an erection, but sustain one. I wouldn’t need a drug to get through this. If I closed my eyes and pictured her, what I imagined she would feel like, sound like, the sweetness of her skin, I might even enjoy the next hour.

  Shitty move, though. It felt wrong even contemplating that option.

  Sex was nothing more than a mindless release to me these days. A necessary transaction.

  I stopped looking at it as recreational three months ago. I no longer fucked because I wanted to. The women I slept with didn’t care about me. None of them even got me hard without a fucking prescription.

  What happened last night with Sydney…that was different.

  Exhilarating.

  Real.

  I wouldn’t associate that with this. I wouldn’t use my body’s reaction to her on someone else. They didn’t fucking earn it. She did.

  I placed the pill on my tongue and tipped my head back, swallowing it down with a bit of saliva.

  Then I drove.

  The studio was just off the highway, a mere fifteen minutes from the beach and in the seediest part of town. I parked along the back of the building. My usual location. I wasn’t typically paranoid, but if I got messages to come out here in the daylight, I didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing my Jeep.

  I opened the side door and stepped inside the building.

  I was told this place was originally an abandoned warehouse. Mike, the owner of Xstasy, acquired the space a year ago and stripped it, putting up makeshift walls to separate different areas, depending on the type of shoot.

  It smelled like mildew and regrets. I hated everything about it.

  “Dash.”

  Mike waved me over to the far corner where he stood next to one of the camera guys.

  I passed a room where two chicks were moving their hands tentatively over each other. The start of a scene. A man stood behind them, stroking his cock as he watched the blonde dip her head between the legs of the other and eat her out.

  The camera zoomed in.

  I used to watch porn, and a scene like this would’ve had me vigorously working my dick in the past. There’s not many guys who aren’t into seeing two beautiful women together, but now when I see something like this or hear their sounds as I walk across the dark concrete, it does nothing for me.

  Doesn’t even warrant a twitch.

  I reached Mike in quick strides, tipping my chin at the middle-aged creep.

  “Hey.”

  He slapped my shoulder, smiling
. I hid my disgust behind a smirk.

  “Good. You made it in less than twenty. I got over three thousand active on the site right now and I need you ready. I want your best stuff.”

  “This is streaming live?” I asked.

  I hadn’t done that yet. Everything I shot was put up on the site later, usually the next day.

  He gave me a hard look.

  “That a problem?”

  I shook my head.

  It wasn’t. I didn’t see much of a difference if this shit went viral now or in two weeks. As long as I got cash out of it, I wasn’t going to protest.

  He tipped his head, then smiled as a young woman came to stand next to me.

  She was tiny in all areas but one, which by the looks of it cost her a couple grand. Her dark hair was braided into two sections falling past her shoulders, making her look young and innocent, and if that didn’t give away the theme of the shoot, her Catholic school uniform nailed it.

  Mike brushed his finger along her cheek.

  “Dash, meet Jayden. She’s been anxiously awaiting your arrival. Isn’t that right, sweetness?”

  She stepped forward with hunger flaring in her eyes. Her small hands slid up my arms and around my neck. Her tits pressed hard against my ribs as she pulled me into a hug, pinning me against her.

  I registered her warm breath and the hint of her perfume.

  I barely reciprocated the affection. Just a light hand to her hip.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Savage.” She leaned back, batting her lashes. Her long nails raked down my chest. Then she brushed her hand against my cock, which was slowly hardening. The drugs were kicking in. “You ready to get started?”

  I nodded, making sure Mike saw as he spoke to the camera crew.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her, bending to whisper so he couldn’t hear.

  “Jayden.”

  I shook my head.

  “Your real name.”

  She studied me curiously.

  “Sara,” she murmured, as if she felt embarrassed revealing that secret about herself.

  It was funny, her shyness. I was about to touch and taste every part of her. Give her pleasure until I couldn’t stand another second of it and sought release myself.

  But sharing her real name? That was apparently a little too personal for her.

  The lights around us dimmed. Mike gave cues to the staff about angles and shots he wanted.

  I took her hand and stepped into the darkness.

  Chapter Four

  SYDNEY

  Merlot red.

  I stared at myself in the hallway bathroom mirror at Tori’s house, running my fingers through the ends of my freshly washed and dried hair.

  The color wasn’t spot on to my natural shade, but it was pretty damn close to it. As close as I was probably going to get doing a boxed hair dye kit at home.

  It was vibrant. Bold and edgy.

  I was slightly nervous I could even pull off this hair color anymore. It had been a long time.

  In an attempt to find the person I was supposed to be now, my post-Marcus self, or pre-Marcus self, considering I was looking for the woman I had left behind and lost along the way, I decided a radical change was in order. Something I could make happen immediately. And while twirling a lock of my hair around my finger as I scrolled through online job postings earlier today, it hit me.

  Red.

  That was definitely something radical.

  It had been nine years since I’d let my natural hair color shine.

  Being a typical fifteen-year-old girl and wanting to copy everything my best friend was doing, at the time, I had started highlighting my hair right along with Tori. Then I highlighted it again. And again, repeating this ritual every four weeks until there wasn’t much trace of natural shade left in my tresses, which turned out to be a good thing considering how vocal Marcus was on liking blondes when he transferred to my high school junior year and, more specifically, on liking my hair blond and no other color.

  He expressed this opinion the day I showed him a picture of me as a kid, my red hair falling wild around me since I didn’t like having it brushed much back then, mainly because my mother was rough about it and didn’t bother spraying detangler on my hair before taking a comb to it.

  I have thin hair, and a lot of it. Always have. It needs detangler.

  Marcus took one look at that photo, shook his head, then handed it back to me, ordering, “Keep it blond, Syd. I’m not dating a ginger.”

  And that was that.

  Well, not anymore.

  I paused my online job searching, dashed to the nearest CVS, and scanned the boxes of L’Oréal hair dye, grabbing the one closest to my natural shade and also picking up a couple cute hair accessories while I was in there, purchasing them because along with disliking red hair, Marcus also turned his nose up at hair accessories, which kept me from wearing cute little clips with dainty fabric flowers and gorgeous turquoise head wraps.

  Until now.

  Now I was wondering if I’d gone a little too far.

  But I was wondering this while smiling at myself in the mirror, thinking my reaction was a normal one for someone who had kept their true ginger self hidden for nine years.

  I’d get used to it. It would just take a day or two.

  And the color was truly beautiful. I couldn’t deny that.

  After cleaning up the mess in the bathroom and making sure I left it as immaculate as it was before I went all radical in there, I made myself some hot chocolate and returned to the bedroom I’d chosen out of the two available in Tori’s house.

  This one had a window facing the ocean. I’d never pass up a view like that.

  I grabbed my laptop off the desk and carried it to the bed, careful of the steaming beverage in my hand as I maneuvered into a cross-legged position with my back against the pillows, placing the laptop in front of me and waking the screen. I blew the steam across the top of the mug and resumed scrolling for job opportunities in the area.

  There wasn’t a lot of scrolling. Pickings were slim.

  I was sipping my hot chocolate and changing the header font on my résumé to something whimsical and completely unprofessional when I heard footsteps in the hallway, lifted my head, and saw Tori filling my doorway with her mouth agape.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  I gripped my mug tighter and sat up straight.

  “What?”

  Her cherry-painted lips curled up, then she jumped into the room and clapped her hands repeatedly in front of her, shrieking, “I love it! I love it! I love it!”

  “You love what?”

  “Your hair, dummy,” she clarified, stepping closer with her finger pointed at me. “I always loved you as a redhead. Rock on, sister! How long has it been? Freshman year?”

  I smiled. It felt good having my best friend’s much-appreciated approval, and it stripped away that tiny shred of doubt I was holding on to regarding my radical decision.

  “Sophomore,” I corrected her, sliding my laptop beside me and stretching my legs out. “I would’ve gone back sooner to the red, I think, if it weren’t for Marcus’s strong dislike for it. I was tired of the blond. Plus, it was really damaging to my hair, all that bleach. This,” I said, tugging at a lock, “won’t need to be maintained as much. And it’s all silky now. Feel.”

  Tori took the three steps to reach me and moved her hand through the ends of my hair.

  “Sweet,” she murmured, plopping down beside my legs and smiling softly. “I’m going to be supportive and ask if you’ve found another job yet. Though, know this, I’m kinda hoping it takes you a few months and we get to kick ass at Whitecaps together for more than five seconds.”

  Tori was always flat-out honest with me, all the time. I appreciated it.

  I laughed and slid my hand to the laptop, tapping it once.

  “I only found one so far and it was posted eight months ago. Doesn’t look good. You might get your wish.”

  “Sham
e,” she said, a smile in her voice even though she kept her face indifferent. She bent her knee and rested her leg on the bed, asking, “You speak to him yet?”

  Him being Marcus. There was no other him in my life, even though I had engaged in conversation yesterday with the man I’d accidentally ripped into two nights ago. It certainly didn’t mean I had another “him” in my life. Though if I’m being honest, it was nice being texted back all the same.

  But Tori didn’t know anything about that, so she most certainly wasn’t referring to Brian.

  I shook my head, then dropped it back against the headboard.

  “Still?” She appeared shocked.

  “Not a word.”

  Her one hand curled into a fist.

  “Bastard. What the hell? He doesn’t care to know where you are?”

  “Where would I be besides here?” I asked, shining a light on what was, in my mind, the obvious explanation for Marcus’s silence.

  Tori’s mouth grew tight. She knew I couldn’t go to my mom’s place. She knew all about my mother and our nonexistent relationship.

  Marcus knew, too. Still, he couldn’t reach out and make sure I’d arrived safely?

  “Right,” she replied, studying her nails. “Well, you are always welcome here. You know that, hon.”

  It felt good hearing that, and Tori was right. I did know. But I didn’t dwell on that good feeling because I was now grasping for an explanation as to why the man I’d married no longer gave a shit about me or my whereabouts.

  It hurt. Marcus was the last person I wanted to talk to but, strangely enough, the one person I needed to hear from the most.

  “Are you going to call him?”

  At the sound of Tori’s question, I refocused my attention on her, the hand in my hair starting to work that same lock again after going still during my pondering.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Do you think I should?”

  She sat up a little taller. “Honestly? No, and I really don’t care how immature this sounds, but I think he should be the one reaching out to you. He wanted out. He blindsided you and ended things, which was the entire reason you packed up and left. Not because you realized how much better off you are without him, or how living with me instead of Marcus would be the shit, because it clearly is. No, he should be calling you and begging for your forgiveness. And I. Mean. Beg.” She leaned closer, placing her hand on my knee and squeezing. “And when this happens, you shouldn’t forgive him unless you want to forgive him.”