At the time I’d never heard anything so disgusting, but right now I wasn’t so sure.
“I’ve never told anyone that story.”
“No?”
“Not a single person in my life would appreciate it.”
“I appreciate the fuck out of it, baby.”
I laughed. “How about you? How many—”
“How many men have I slept with? None.”
“Hilarious. How many women?”
“Lots. But I used to be wild.”
“Wild?”
“Following around my badass brother. It wasn’t pretty and I’m not proud of it, but it was wild.”
“What’s the wildest thing you’ve done?”
“Baby, it’s not—”
“Tell me.”
“A couple women at once, I guess.”
Lightning struck my body. “How—?”
He groaned as if my curiosity turned him on, or maybe he was remembering those women. “Truthfully, I was so messed up I barely remember. Mostly, they did each other and I watched. By the time I got around to actually fucking one of them it was over pretty quick. I was wild, but I was young.”
“Well, there’s the difference between us. I’ve never been wild.”
“You want to be, don’t you? That’s why you’re calling me?”
“Yeah, I guess…maybe…”
“Yes or no. There’s no one else here to hear you and I ain’t judging.”
“Yes. Yes, I’d like to be wild.”
I had my doubts that I’d ever really get there. I was after all still in my underwear. But just today I’d gone skinny-dipping. There was no telling what could happen. A girl had to have goals.
“All right, you listening? We’re going to get back to it in a few seconds and we’re gonna come and then I gotta go, but before you call me again, I want you to go out to that strip club your friend works at and watch the girls dance.”
“What?” I cried. How did I graduate from cake for breakfast to going to a strip club?
“You heard me, and before you start acting like you’re not interested, remember it’s just you and me here right now. And I do not judge you.”
I do not judge you.
The problem was not him. Not at all. It was these ghosts in my head. My mother and Hoyt and a lifetime of trying to appease the unappeasable by suppressing everything about myself.
That’s Annie, I thought. Annie is the one with ghosts.
Layla is the one giving hand jobs in the backseats of cars for a six-pack of beer.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll go out to the strip club,” I said.
“You want that?”
I thought of Joan’s perfect body and how hard I’d tried not to stare at it.
“Yeah…I do.”
Again that laugh of his did something to my blood because my whole body got hot.
“Fuck, that’d be something to see, baby. That would be something to see. Now, where’s your hand?”
“In my *,” I whispered, feeling brave and bold and flush, and the word came out of my mouth on a gust of air, so easy. “Where’s yours?”
“Around my cock,” he moaned.
We were silent for a moment, just the sound of our breath between us. Harsh and raw.
“Dylan,” I groaned.
“Right here. Right fucking here.”
It was fast and hard and quick and over in seconds, and I listened to him gasp and groan and wished, more than I could say, that I could see him right now.
“Layla?” he asked after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
I laughed, boneless and weak on the bed. “Yeah. I’m good. You?”
“I’m good, baby. Real good.”
“Can I ask you something…that’s not dirty?”
“As a rule I only answer dirty questions.”
“Dylan,” I laughed. “I’m serious.”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Phone sex? Sure.” Part of me was crushed at his words, though it was ridiculous. I had no reason to care. “But this other stuff?” he continued. “Talking to a total stranger like this? Totally new.”
Ah, not so crushed anymore.
“Me too.”
“You grew up on a farm?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Worlds away from here. Where did you grow up?”
“You changing the subject?”