“In front of everyone below?” she exclaims. “Wow, Madison. What if someone saw?”
I laugh. “That’s what made it so hot, you know? The entire time I was wondering if everyone in the office could hear me screaming. When I left, my hair was a mess, and I’m pretty sure my skin was covered in his sweat.”
“You slut,” she shouts. “I’m too jealous of you. And the panties? He still has those for his own sick and twisted pleasure?”
I laugh and awkwardly tap my feet. “Well, I cleaned myself up with them and threw them on his desk. I told him to keep them,” I tell her.
She slaps her thigh loudly. “You are insane. Wow, I love you. You need to text him back. Like, now.”
“Fine, I will.”
I sigh and read his last text over again. Then I reply:
“How about tomorrow? Think you can wait that long?”
Dasha is hunched over my shoulder watching me type out every word. She kisses my cheek with excitement when I hit send.
“You’re going to marry this psycho. You know that, right?” she asks, as if she’s some sort of soothsayer matchmaker hybrid now.
“I am definitely not marrying Rocco,” I tell her. “That would be insane. We’ll probably fuck a few more times and that’ll be it.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she says. “He’s really in love with you. He’d probably sell his entire company to be with you.”
“Ugh, that reminds me. Byron is totally freaking out over him. He thinks I’m sleeping with the enemy. He actually told me that,” I say, feeling a sense of dread creep inside me.
“Well, you kind of are, right?” she asks. “I mean, he’s the biggest hotel development company next to your father’s.”
“I guess, but it’s not like that. Rocco wouldn’t use me for financial gain,” I say. “At least, I don’t think he would.”
The thought makes me sick.
“He wouldn’t,” she says. “He loves you too much.”
“Shut up,” I squeal.
I really hope she’s not right. Love is not something I bargained for. Love is hell. Love is working through your shit, over and over, on a daily basis. It means having kids and settling down, and doing basically what Dasha is doing, except there’s an aging man around at all times.
All in all, it means less sex and less fun.
I’m not in love. I’m just having fun.
A girl can do that, right?
Rocco
Two days later, I’m still fucking hooked. The woman is like crack.
The first few times you fuck, you think to yourself, “I can do this. I can manage.”
Then reality smacks you right in the dick. Soon enough, you’re fucking on the back porch, thinking to yourself, “Did I die and go to heaven?”
Then you’re alone. You have to deal with the silence, the lack of pussy, forced to breathe the stale air of your home.
I have to pour myself into my work to really stop thinking about her. Even then, I’m stuck in the office we fucked inside.
It doesn’t help.
She texts me again. I’m starting to hate my phone. The barrier is too difficult to square with.