“No,” I whisper.
“But you’d give it to me eventually? That gives me something to work for. Something else to earn.”
In all honesty, I find the idea of anal sex intimidating. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to do for my own sake. None of the guys I’ve dated had much interest in trying it, which was fine with me.
Still, in my fantasies, it’s often there. A rapist wouldn’t care what I wanted or didn’t want. He’d make me take it.
Just like Jonah eventually will.
“Anything else?” Jonah says. When I shake my head no, he straightens, once again businesslike. “Friday night, then. Unless you have plans—you don’t? Good. Here’s what I want you to do. Go to a hotel; I’ll let you know which one. I will have paid for a room in your name. Check in. Get comfortable. Then, around eight P.M., go down to the hotel bar. Have a couple of drinks. A couple too many.” His eyes burn with intensity. He’s thought out every word of this. “I’ll be there. I’ll try to pick you up. But you’re not interested. When you walk out of the bar, I’ll follow you. At the door of your hotel room, you try to ditch me. I won’t let you.”
It’s as though Jonah has looked down into the core of me and seen exactly what I want. “What then?”
“That’s up to me.”
Oh, God. If I could come just from hearing a man talk, that would have done it. Hearing Jonah make plans for my body has me more turned on than most guys’ foreplay ever has. “Up to you,” I repeat.
“One last thing.” Jonah leans even nearer, so close I think he’s about to kiss me. Instead he murmurs, “How do I make you come?”
My cheeks burn hot, as if we’d been overheard by everyone in the bar. “That should, um, take care of itself.” When he frowns, I have to explain. “Most women don’t get off just on penetration, but I can almost always get there.”
Of course, I get there by fantasizing about being raped by a man, even while my partner is still inside me. When Jonah and I are together, that fantasy will turn real.
“Perfect.” He smiles. “By the way, that night? Don’t wear clothes you’re interested in ever wearing again.”
Before I can even fully envision Jonah tearing my clothes off, he stands up. I’m caught off guard. “Wait. You’re just—leaving?”
“Unless we have anything else to discuss.” He tugs down the tail of his shirt—to cover his hard-on, I realize. Seeing how badly he wants me makes me want him back even more. Jonah, however, acts like he doesn’t give a damn. “If you have any more questions, ask now.”
I know this is the furthest thing from a first date. I know we agreed that the less we found out about each other as individuals, the better the role-playing would be. But I didn’t realize he was cold enough to walk off like this.
Then again, cold is what I need. Cold and unyielding.
Yet one question is difficult to set aside. “Aren’t you going to tell me why you want this?”
Jonah pauses, only for a moment. “Are you going to tell me why you want it?”
No, I’m not.
So I lift my chin. “Friday night at eight?”
“Friday night.”
He turns and walks away without once looking back.
Seven
“Earth to Vivienne.”
I realize I’m still sitting at Arturo and Shay’s table, my half-finished dinner in front of me. Both of them are staring at me—half worried, half amused.
“Sorry,” I say. “My graduate work is taking over my brain these days. Why not? It already took over my life.”
The words come too quickly, too easily. That might be the only thing my mother ever taught me to her satisfaction: how to lie.
Arturo rises from his chair. “Sounds like someone needs a beer.”
“No, really, I’m fine.”
“I’m not,” Shay chimes in. “Get me a ginger ale while you’re up, would you?”
He sticks his tongue out at her, which makes her giggle, then goes to fetch her a can of Canada Dry.
It is not yet Friday night, I remind myself. It is Thursday. The hotel and Jonah and everything else that happens tomorrow is for tomorrow. Today you’re with your friends. Act like it.