He grabbed my hand, and I pulled him up. He clapped me on the back.
I drank a quart of water when he left. It took so long to drink that much water, and I had to stay still for it. Jack getting too old to play hurt me in places I didn’t poke too often. The place where I couldn’t play. The place where an injury took me off the lineup. The place where my life was turned upside down and death fell out.
I had a book to read. I’d stop thinking about Jack leaving and playing without Daria’s pin and the missing ports-of-call women if I buried myself in it.
Fifteen minutes in, when I laughed at a line so clever it seemed to twist on itself, I wondered if Vivian had read it.
I was sorry she hadn’t been able to let me finish the job at the same time as I was grateful she’d refused me before she went full psycho. I respected that. Admired it. She had a lot going for her. It was too bad about the circumstances.
Another line cracked me up, and I realized the book I was reading was by Dwayne F. Wright. The same guy who’d written Eternal Joke.
It didn’t all have to be about sex, did it?
We could be friends. That could be part of the New Rules.
I grabbed my phone.
Have you read The Underling?
ten
Vivian
I don’t want you to think less of me. I don’t always read the opaque stuff. I read a lot of romance
I read the Story of O
What did you think?
(…)
(…)
Are you there?
Yes
(…)
I liked it. Eye-opening
How?
You’re curious, aren’t you?
About you? Yes.
(…)
(…)
I didn’t like that her first master shared and abandoned her
She was better off. Once you make a woman yours, there’s no sharing.
Make her yours how?
How?
Let me tell you, exactly When you take a woman who has never been tied up before and you loop her wrists over the headboard and her legs to the footboard. And you blindfold her so she can’t see where your hands are. When you touch her body everywhere, suck her nipples hard, play with her until she’s so close to orgasm she’s begging for release. When you say, “You’re mine you beautiful thing, no one else will have you,” then there’s no turning back.
(…)
Have you ever done that before?
Everything through “release”
And I shouldn’t ask this. We’re just friends But I have to
I haven’t
Done anything like that, I mean
I was going to ask if it turned you on (…)
(…)
(…)
Vivian?
Was that inappropriate?
It was inappropriate
And I am very turned on
eleven
Vivian
“You look tired.” Francine poked our slice of apple pie.
Pie was the new thing, replacing macaroons, which had replaced cupcakes as the most stylish way to end up with a closet full of clothes that didn’t fit.
“I was up all night texting with Dash.”
“Mr. Winter? Really?” She’d dubbed him Mr. Winter because he’d slated the relationship to end in spring. “Were you texting about how many times he was going to fuck you before he split?”
“Shh!” I glanced around the coffee shop.
Everyone must have heard her. They were just being polite. Thank God. She pushed the pie to me, and I speared an apple.
She fiddled with the white pom-pom on her pink hat. We were both dressed in jeans, but hers were original Sergio Valenti’s, and mine were Gap. She was one of seven stylists in Los Angeles making money. I thought I should try to let her dress me one day. If she saw my mother’s closet, she’d explode.
“What were you texting about then?”
“Books. Until three in the morning. He is—I mean, I can’t believe I’m texting Dash Wallace. I feel like I won the lottery.”
“You should fuck him?” she said, dropping her voice on the word fuck as if that kept anyone from hearing. “And quit this lottery talk. He’s just a guy.”
I flashed on feeling the rock hardness of Dash’s dick between my legs. His hands gripping my arms to keep me up. His knees pressing my legs open. I’d brought myself to orgasm twice thinking of him and the things he’d texted. After the discussion of The Story of O and whether or not it turned me on, we moved to safer subjects, but I’d throbbed for him all through it.
I flushed hot pink. “We’re friends. We agreed.”
“It’s been years, Vivian. Years.”
“I can’t sleep with him until spring training and just stop.”
“Do it.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re practically a virgin. Come on! He’s so cute. And I bet he moves like a champ. Please. You’ve slept with one guy your whole life. Just a few weeks. For fun!”
I rolled my latte between my hands, letting the warmth spread over my skin. “I’m not that way. I’m not judging. Everyone has to do what makes them happy. But I’m not in the market for a fling. I like serious relationships.”
“Like the one you had with Carl, you mean?”
“Shut up. I just… it’s not like I want to marry the guy. I don’t even know him. But I don’t want to make it cheap.”
“Who said anything about cheap? Make him take you out,” she said.