Watching me undress.
Watching me.
Eve: Did you really?
Ian: Yes.
Eve: When?
Ian: Last night.
Eve: In your bed?
Ian: Yes. It still smells like you.
Eve: What did you think of? Exactly?
Ian: The look in your eyes when you watch yourself. Of how much you like watching and being watched. Of how much I want to watch you come.
Eve: Oh.
Ian: What are you wearing?
Eve: A dress.
Ian: Show me.
Eve: Show you?
Ian: You took a picture naked in my bed. You know what I’m asking.
Eve: You didn’t say please.
Ian: I don’t say please.
My sex clenches. That shouldn’t be so hot. But it is.
I pull up my camera. Put it in selfie mode. Wave as I snap a photo of my outfit.
There. Send.
A normal picture. Something I might put on social media. Hey, look at my short black dress. Perfect for summer. Why is it so hot in New York?
Only it’s not that at all.
It’s inviting him to undress me.
Ian: What are you wearing under it?
Eve: Underwear.
Ian: Do I need to come over there? Make you behave?
Fuck, yes.
Eve: What if you do?
Ian: I’m not coming until you invite me.
He’s making me work for it. And asking for permission. In a way that sounds like an order. He’s good at that. Asking what I want. Giving it to me.
Eve: What if I do?
Ian: I’ll bend you over my knee. Spank you until you behave.
Fuck.
Ian: Is that what you want, vixen? Want to be punished for being a bad girl?
Eve: Maybe.
Ian: Or do you want to be rewarded?
Eve: What’s my reward?
Ian: Show me what you’re wearing under your dress.
It’s the only way he’ll give it to me. Whatever it is he’s giving.
I turn my fan on. Slip out of my dress. Turn the camera to me.
There.
I send him the photo.
Me, from my shoulders to my toes, in black lingerie. From him. A lace bra. Matching bikini underwear.
Illicit and fancy. Undeserving of my poorly put together room. But better for it.
This is my space.
The only space that’s really mine.
I’m inviting him into it. Just barely. But I am.
Ian: Good girl.
It makes my sex clench. I don’t want to think about the implications—what the fuck is wrong with me, wanting him to purr good girl.
It winds me so tight.
I’m already on edge.
Ian: Take it off.
Eve: Here?
Ian: You’re in your room, aren’t you?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: Do you normally fuck yourself somewhere else?
Holy shit.
Eve: No. Here.
Ian: How do you fuck yourself?
Eve: I rub my clit. With my fingers. Normally, the middle. Sometimes, the ring.
Did I just write that? My entire body flames. It’s there, in text, forever.
Ian: Did you fuck yourself last night?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: You thought of me?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: What, exactly?
Eve: The feeling of your hands in my hair. And your cock in my mouth. And the way you held my body against yours. I could feel you were hard. You were so close. I wanted you inside me.
Ian: Did you want to watch?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: Did you want me to watch?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: Do you want me to watch now?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: I can come over.
Eve: It’s too far.
Ian: Impatient?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: I should make you wait for that.
Eve: Please don’t.
Fuck, I’m begging him. I’m not even sure what I’m begging for. Only that I want it. That he’s the only one who can give it to me.
Ian: Take off the lingerie.
I slide out of my bra. Then the panties.
Ian: Show me.
I point my cell to my chest. There. Snap.
Me.
Naked.
For him.
Can I trust him with it?
I take a deep breath. Channel the logic left in my brain.
It’s a risk, but that’s what makes it thrilling.
I trust him.
And, fuck, I want to send this so badly. To be exposed for him. To risk someone else seeing.
There.
Ian: Fuck. Beautiful.
How do I reply? Thank you feels silly. Anything dirtier…
It’s hard to form the words.
The cell buzzes in my hand.
Not a text.
He’s calling me.
There only one reason to call…
Fuck.
I answer. “Hello.” It feels strange saying hello, when I’ve just sent him a picture of my breasts, but where else do I start?
“Hello.” His voice is that low, demanding tone. There’s this tiny hint of impatience. He needs this too. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Put the phone on speaker.”
I do.
“On the bed.”
I do.
“Climb into it.”
I lie on the smooth sheets.
“I like to picture you there. Your head rolling back, your fingers in your cunt, your expression wracked with pleasure.”
Fuck. “You picture me touching myself?”
“Constantly.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Oh.”
He lets out a low laugh. For a moment, it defuses the tension in the room. My shoulders relax. My breath steadies.
I’m talking to the guy I like. Not lying in my bed, waiting for his instructions. Waiting to come for his listening pleasure.
“You’re adorable,” he says. “It makes me wild.”
“Why?”
“Knowing I’m the one who can make someone so tough and strong blush… it drives me out of my mind.”
“Oh.”
Again, he laughs. This time, it doesn’t defuse the tension.
It winds me tighter. “What do you do? When it drives you out of your mind?”