by Rowena
I wonder if Jason has found his phone yet?
I am tempted to text him and find out, but then I remember I must have limited contact with him. Let Scott fill him in and catch him up on everything.
I hear the sound of a text come in on Scott’s phone while mine’s still rebooting, and when I see him smile, I can’t help but wonder who it’s from.
That kind of smile—it couldn’t have been brought out by Jason or any other guy—that’s the kind of smile I see guys break out because of a girl.
“Bet my bag’s in the trunk of my car,” Scott says suddenly, looking up from the phone with a neutralized face. “I’m gonna go check. Be right back.”
He heads back to my computer to shut down the browser he’d been using, and then heads out, phone in hand.
I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach I can’t ignore, and my curiosity gets the better of me, so I sit down at my desk and open the browser back up.
Scott didn’t log out, and my settings don’t clear info after shutting down, so I’m now staring at Scott’s email account before me.
I don’t like what I see.
I click on the first message that looks like it’s from a girl—from that Jesse girl he told me about.
I can feel myself gearing up to get mad.
But once I read through the message, I start feeling guilty—she only talked about some group meeting he missed and was wondering where the hell he was.
I guess if given another day or two, this chick would’ve reported him missing, and I wouldn’t have blamed her.
I scan a few other messages, but it’s just boring class stuff for the most part.
I’m about to shut the page back down when it occurs to me to check Scott’s Deleted folder.
Immediately, a few emails catch my attention there.
I click on a message from a girl named Cherise, and my emotions go from zero to sixty in two seconds flat.
Where the hell are you? Emailing you because you’re not answering my texts and my pussy needs that cock. Gah! I can’t stop thinking about the other night. Your tongue is magic!
My heart slams hard against my chest, and I find myself more furious than anything else, rage filling every part of my being.
I sit back, trying to catch my breath.
I mean, there’s no other way to interpret it, is there? Scott has some serious explaining to do.
Then I click on a message from a girl named Emily saying, Got that landing strip for you, and my heart speeds up even more.
By the time I read a message from a girl named Megan saying, Shit, I think I might be pregnant. Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of it if I need to, I know that no amount of explaining will suffice.
It is clear what Scott has been up to, and I’ve been a fool all this time thinking he would remain faithful to me.
But how could he? How could Scott smile at me and kiss me and say he loves me while doing so much shit behind my back?
I feel stupid, betrayed.
What surprises me is that I don’t feel sad in the least, just extremely angry and embarrassed.
I know what has to happen next, but the loss—I guess it hasn’t hit me just yet.
Years ago, my friends told me Scott and I were going to be crowned prom king and queen, and I tried not to think about it too much because the thought was too exciting.
For me, it would represent more than just being everyone’s favorite couple—it would be a sign that Scott and I were meant to be. I always figured I’d marry him, but I wasn’t going to mention it outright, of course, and if we ended up winning, I hoped he’d take it as a sign too.
When we won, I cried unexpectedly, and I was pretty disappointed in myself for being so invested in such a silly thing, but it was one of many moments I looked forward to with him—the first of our crowning moments, our presentation to the world that we are a unit, a team. To me, it was almost a mirror for the day a priest or whoever says, “You may now kiss the bride.”
That sure as shit isn’t going to happen now.
It’s clear that I have been living some stupid fantasy entirely in my head.
I couldn’t trust Scott at all anymore, and there’s no way I can seriously be with someone I can’t trust.
I hear Scott coming back but I don’t move, and I wait for him to reenter and see what I’ve done, to see what his face says once he realizes I’ve seen all those nasty emails.
“It was totally in my trunk, untouched,” he says, smiling, then his smile drops as he takes in my position, then the screen behind me.
As I expect, his face tells me everything I need to know.
6
SCOTT
I know I’m thoroughly, completely fucked when I see Calla’s face, then look beyond her to the computer screen.
There’s no way I can talk myself out of this one, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.
“I can explain,” I begin, but she stands, shutting me up.
The anger emanating from her slim body is palpable, swarming over me and heating me with a bit of shame.
Fuck, I never meant for her to see any of that. What the hell did she have to go snooping around for? Things could have still been so great between us!
“How many?” she demanded.
I stutter, not sure what I was even trying to say, but it was probably some useless denial.
I take a breath, then do a mental count of my regular fuck-buddies plus the random one-night stands.
Nah, there’s no way Calla needs to know the details—it’ll only hurt more.
“Several,” I say. “But they don’t mean anything to me—it was just sex…”
I duck as she throws something at me—I’m not sure what until I see the pen clatter to the floor.
“Just sex?? Scott, one of those girls said she could be pregnant!”
I see and hear a break in her anger—she’s clearly about to burst into tears, but she surprises me by holding herself together.
“You had unprotected sex with how many, Scott? How many women’s juices did you bring home to me?”
“Calla, I…Look, they looked clean.”
She laughs like a maniac, so obviously not a real laugh.
“They looked clean? Scott, get the fuck out of here before I throw something more dangerous at you. Now!”
“Calla, I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t ever let me see you again, Scott. Seriously. This is so fucking over.”
I sigh.
She’s right, of course. What we had was over a long time ago, but there we were, holding on just because it was familiar.
I should have let her go before all of this, but I couldn’t because I do still love her—I love the attention she gives me, the way she looks at me like I’m the most important thing in the world, and it didn’t matter to me that I couldn’t give that back to her.
Lucky for me, I can totally let go of the smidgen of guilt I felt over all my college trysts. None of those chicks are my girlfriend, so I don’t really care to inform them of anything they don’t need to know, and I sure as hell will continue to have my cake and eat it too as long as chicks let me.
As I look at Calla and realize the truth of the end of our almost nine-year relationship, I find myself feeling relieved.
I feel even freer now than when I realized the three of us had been released from that freak’s sex chamber.
Who knew being with Calla had been such a burden on me?
Now I don’t have to worry about her showing up on campus and cramping my style. Now I don’t have to think about when the right time to propose will be. Now I can do whatever the fuck I want with not a single person or thing to answer to.
“Be good to yourself, Calla,” I say as I back toward the door, and she gracefully tells me to go fuck myself.
“Preferably with a chainsaw up the ass,” she spits.
Ouch!
I’ll miss her a little, I won’t lie, but not enough—I’m way too ready to get on with my life, f
ree of anyone else’s expectations. No more marriage pressure, no more obligatory weekend visits to the boring girlfriend. Just cruising through college, sinking my dick in pussy after pussy, happy, single, free.
7
JASON
I know I have no right to be, but I can’t help but feel jealous of Scott at a deeper level than before—to the point where I’m pacing angrily at the thought of him and Calla being physically intimate again. I can no longer wrangle into submission the possessiveness I feel toward Calla, can’t ignore how much it bothers me that they’re together.
I’m trying hard not to imagine them actually having sex again, which they could be doing right now, but it’s raising my blood pressure to even not think of it.
Scott’s been sleeping with Calla for years, and though it bothered me they were a couple, I was able to accept that’s how things would be. But not after taking her, not after seeing how she opened up to me, not after detecting longing in her—longing for me.
I can’t let this go, but how the hell do I proceed?
She’s crazy if she thinks she can just disappear from my life completely—I can’t let that happen. I only let her talk her crazy talk because hell, it’s still early, and we’re all still reeling from the surreal experience we had.
I found my phone in my glove compartment, and I’m so tempted to call Calla, but I remember that our phones were all taken away. But maybe they’ve found them by now—Voice arranged for all our belongings to be discoverable so far.
I’m thinking so hard about calling Calla, that I think I’m tripping when I hear my phone ring and see her name light up the screen.
I wait for it to ring again, then pick up the call.
“Calla?”
I realize she’s crying on the other end.
“I need you,” she says. “I need my best friend…”
“I’ll be right over,” I say.
I have no idea what happened, and I’m not sure if Scott’s still there or not, although judging by the fact that she called me, probably not, but to hell with it—Calla needs me, I’m there.
I drive to her place in record time.
I notice that the car that looked like Scott’s is gone, and I figure I assumed correctly that the Voice arranged it. Which means, of course, that Scott isn’t here, and a crying Calla indicates that something went very wrong—or very right, depending on how you look at it.
I rush upstairs toward her apartment, noting her building’s open door, and making note of needing to talk to her about the possibility of moving from this unsafe place, and she is waiting at her open door for me, beautiful face streaked with tears.
I immediately gather her into my arms and hold her, wondering what the fuck Scott did, and trying to quell my rage at him for hurting her.
Then I realize I’m jumping to conclusions and need to calm down and wait for her to fill me in. In the meantime, I need to just soothe her.
I keep her secure in my arms, moving one palm gently up and down her back until she is calm enough to speak.
“He was cheating on me,” she begins. “With a lot of women. I found some horrible emails.” She turns to look up at me. “Did you know about any of it?” she asks.
“Calla, he’s my friend. Whether I knew or suspected or not, it wasn’t my place…”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She buries her face in my chest again, takes a big whiff of me, it seems, then steps back a foot.
“Thank you,” she says. “Thanks for coming over on such short notice.”
I resist pulling her back to me.
“Of course, Calla, anything for you.”
She smiles a broken smile. “Needless to say, things are over between the two of us. For good. I mean, one of those girls said she might be pregnant!” She stops, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if shaking off some terrible image. “He was nowhere near as committed to me as I was to him. God, I was so stupid—all the things I gave up because of him and for him, including you! One of my best friends! I was willing to sacrifice so much for him, and he willing to sacrifice nothing. He didn’t love me the way I thought, and he certainly doesn’t look at me the way you do,” she says, closing the gap between us again.
As much as this is music to my ears, this is definitely not the right time.
She is vulnerable and hurt right now, and I need her to come to me because she actually wants me, not because she’s feeling vengeful or needs to let off some steam or…
My mind blanks when her soft lips touch mine.
“Calla,” I whisper when she breaks the kiss, intending to tell her we can’t go there right now, but her hands have found my fly, and my cock is slowly waking up.
I need to stop this before it goes too far—I don’t want to feel like I took advantage of her.
But the way she’s kissing me is frying my logic—perhaps twisting it, because now it makes perfect sense to take her right now, to dominate her body when her heart is most vulnerable and make her mine. To claim her fiercely and give her such pleasure that she never thinks to speak such filthy words as “we can’t see each other or even be friends anymore” again.
“Calla,” I manage to growl.
She moans against my lips, and my cock rears up, at full mast.
“God, you made me so wet just now,” she says, working furiously at my pants. “Your voice, your lips, your chest…I want you so bad, Jason; I need you inside me right now. Please make love to me.”
There’s just no way I can deny a request like that, not from her.
I lift her up and take her to her bedroom, and as she works on shedding her clothes, I work on mine.
In almost no time, we’re both naked, Calla’s beautiful breasts begging for my mouth.
Not knowing where things will head afterward, I take the time to worship her body, beginning with her begging breasts, then work my way down her abdomen, savoring every gasp and cry, every desperate grab of my hair.
“Please,” she begs, but I kiss my way down to her glistening pussy lips, pulling them between my own lips, licking every part of the surface, exploring every peak and valley.
I flicker my tongue over her entrance, making her squirm even more, then slide my tongue across the bud of her clit, making her buck.
“Christ, Jason…” she begs again, but I ignore her, munching her slick slit until I can’t take it anymore, and I’m driven to shove my dick in her.
She moans in grateful relief as I enter her, and I let out a simultaneous relieved groan.
Her slick walls grip me hard, encouraging me to climax sooner than later, but not if I can help it. I start sliding in and out of her slowly, trying every trick of endurance I know while I squeeze against her delicious cunt.
Her sighs and moans of pleasure will be the death of me, I think, but I soon realize it’s more than that working against me. As I start to fuck her a bit harder and faster, I can’t take my eyes off of her—her beautiful face contorting in pleasure, her mouth remaining open as she breathes hard, her slender, feminine neck and shoulders, her beautiful round breasts with their pebbled nipples, her smooth, flat stomach.
I make the mistake of looking down to watch my cock plunge into her slit, and impending orgasm zaps through me, tightening everything in me until I have to thrust even harder and faster to relieve some of the pressure in my body.
Her grasping hands and increasing pants, along with the feel of an orgasm building in her takes me over the edge and I come hard inside her, letting out a loud climatic groan as she comes hard against me, her walls gripping my dick as she pulses in climax. We stay contracted against each other for a moment, flooding each with our orgasmic juices.
8
CALLA
Jason collapses on top of me, and I welcome him joyfully, feeling like everything’s right with the world as I wrap my arms around him and savor the feel of his hard chest on my soft breasts, his cock still inside me, and his breath near my ear.
How did this happen? How
did I go from a desire to live out a fantasy with one guy to such a crushing need for another?
Of course I know the answer to that quite well—I made a mistake all those years ago, I chose the wrong guy. I made the safest choice. The expected choice.
On paper, Scott was exactly the kind of guy I was supposed to be with—we were both attractive, popular types who were involved in athletics, college-bound, and destined to middle-class life with two kids and a dog, a white picket fence, and a backyard pool. In step, all the way, was how it was supposed to work out between the two of us, despite growing into two very different people who wanted very different things.
I guess it wasn’t just going with my own adolescent fantasy when it came to Scott—I felt like I’d be letting so many other people down otherwise, since we had so many eyes on us. We were a symbol to a lot of people, actors in one of their favorite shows.
Plus, for a girl who lost her mom at the age of five and never knew her dad, a girl raised by her grandmother until a heart attack took her my junior year of college—how could I not cling to Scott, one of the only constants in my life?
But my time with Scott has obviously run its course, and I don’t even regret not being able to remain friends with him after all those years together.
A guy that selfish—how could he and I possibly be friends?
I slowly realize we were never really friends to begin with—Scott was more like a challenge at first, a guy that many girls wanted but only I got, so he was first my prize. Then he simply came to symbolize something I was too blind to see that he was an inadequate representation for.
It was probably necessary for me to go through what I did with Scott so that when the time came, I could appreciate Jason fully, and now here we are.
I feel dominated by Jason, and I like that.
I feel so loved by Jason, and I need that.
I feel incredibly safe with Jason, and I love that.
Sure, it took some kinky bastard forcing me to see it, but I’m finally where I belong, able to see what’s been in front of me the whole time, that Jason has been the answer all along.
