It’s a hot heavy feeling.
in my stomach. in my cock.
i want to fuck you so angrily
need to use you to release.
—i want you to use me
—i feel the bruises on my wrists from where you gripped me too hard
the marks on your thighs where i fucked you so hard
i can’t take this. i have to have you
send me more of you
—i can’t
—there are…considerable logistical difficulties in the taking and the sending
—did I mention I was in the kids’ piano class?
Later then.
Fucking reality calls me as well: another emergency meeting.
now go cum for me
—At my kids’ piano lessons?
Wherever the fuck you are. Now.
—Fuck you. Go to your meeting.
I’m going. Take more photos of you. I want to suffer more. And I want you to suffer with me. xx
—xo
Fuck. Mad. Mad. Clearly losing my mind. At home, I find myself moving from task to task without focus or concentration. Marie texts me. Still no word from Zoltan. What should she say? She’s texted him again. Should she text him to say it’s over? And more…I don’t respond. What can I say? Truly, I give not a fuck. Tepid little faux affair. Not real. Not real. She calls – I don’t pick up. I am a bad friend. I don’t care. The text from Alex telling me he’s going out for drinks with the deal team and won’t be home until late barely registers.
I suffer.
Sleepwalk.
I hear Alex come in late, as I’m reading Annie to sleep. Hear him moving around in the kitchen. Heating up food. Dishes clinking in the sink. Then his head pokes into the girls’ bedroom. He gives Cassandra – quietly reading a book – a kiss. Another one for Annie. A third for me.
By the time Annie’s asleep, so is Alex. And I, shaking, shaken, sit in bed beside him and do yet another unforgivable thing. One night. It would have been just one night. One night, and over. And now what?
I get up. Lock myself in the bathroom with the phone. And take photos.
Send.
It’s very, very late in Montréal. But he’s waiting.
Holy fucking hot.
The open mouth. Yes.
—the things i do for you
—slut
The things you’ll do for me. Slut.
—promises
Looking at you again. (Carefully)
Hold your fuck-me heels up to the camera.
—oh god done
And so well done
I WILL have those on your feet, pointed at the ceiling.
—My stomach is in knots
—I feel sick with desire for you
Did you like showing yourself to me?
—no
Good.
—this is so fucking sick
Yet we can’t stop.
Addicted.
—I don’t think that’s the right word even
—compulsion
The dark cousin of obsession.
Those heels are fucking hot. To be blunt.
—yes
—I get wet putting them on
put them on
—on
how do you feel
—slick
obedient
—angry
good
—resentful
even better
—Jeezus
I want you to get fucked in those heels tonight.
—do you
—what am i thinking while I’m getting fucked?
—in those heels, by someone else
Me. Watching you perform for me.
Making you work.
My shameless whore.
—Scripting me, directing me?
Letting you know when you can cum.
—stopping me when I really want to
‘Wait for it.’
—oh fuck
you can’t cum but he keeps pounding you
‘Fuck her harder.’
‘Harder.’
I stand up and take my cock out inches away from your face.
—out of reach
just barely
—I make that sound
I know which one.
‘Cum
