Roomie Wars Box Set

“Zoey, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d never do such a thing if I were sober. But you need to tell me exactly what happened?”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she barks, unleashing her frustration. “You want to know what happened? You came at me from behind and rubbed yourself against me with clothes on. You then grabbed my boobs and slid your way down playing with my you-know-what, then stuck your finger in my…” I can hear the struggle in her voice, “… behind.”

Her words only add to my confusion.

Boobs.

You-know-what.

Behind.

My brain is scrambling trying to solve the mystery puzzle. I’m stunned and shocked beyond belief that this happened. That my brain has some mechanism in erasing something I desperately want to remember.

“Wow… that’s um… a lot to take in,” I openly admit.

Throwing fuel onto the fire, she adds, “And you said you wanted to stick your cock in my pussy.”

The second she says it, my head spins with the image of her bent on all fours. Imagining how good her moans would have sounded is like music to my ears. The look on her face, mid-orgasm, the delight and sheer pleasure sketched all over her beautiful body.

Thank God I’m sitting down, barely able to contain the desire that riddles me with guilt at this moment. I rest my elbows on my knees with my head buried between.

“Fuck, Zoey. I’m sorry. What does this mean?”

“You tell me, Dr. Drew.”

I let out a long breath. “Look, if I touched you, it’s safe. Did I… you know… do anything orally?”

She’s quick to shut me down. “No.”

“But you said you came?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she moans, standing up and walking to the other side of the room creating some sort of distance between us. “Yes, you touched me, and I came. There. I said it. Bottom line is that I should have fought harder to stop it. I forgot it was you and got lost in the moment.”

Glancing aside, and unwillingly, small chuckles escape my mouth. This situation is unbelievable—

comical to say the least.

“Why are you laughing?” She watches me, grimacing at my relaxed demeanor.

“Because this is the most bizarre thing ever. You’re telling me I fingered your ass, and I have no recollection. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

“No. I think it’s mortifying. And I’m finding it hard to see the funny side of this considering I may be in danger of having a sexually transmitted disease,” she argues.

I immediately stop laughing. She’s right. This isn’t a laughing matter.

/> Only one thing has stayed true. I have to be her friend, support her no matter what the outcome, and ignore any romantic feelings or sexual desire toward my best friend, my roomie, who’s hurting right now.

“First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the clinic. I promise, Zoey, everything will be all right.”

***

“How many sexual partners have you had?”

Dr. Taylor sits on the stool, chart in hand, waiting patiently for Zoey to respond.

She turns my way, flushed with embarrassment, her lips moving as she quietly does the calculation. I want to reach out to her, tell her to breathe and answer his question truthfully. Instead, I sit uncomfortably on the plastic chair wishing for this to be over.

Maybe me being here is not such a good idea.