“I’m telling you, she’s a nightmare,” I say as I put down Carl’s plate of food in front of him on the dinner table.
“She can’t be that bad,” he says dismissively before taking a large and sloppy slurp of pasta.
“She can. She is. I’m telling you, I’m worried about Maria’s safety.”
“You’re talking like she’s in an abusive relationship.”
“She might be,” I say while trying to use my spoon to help with my noodles. I could never figure this part out.
“With a woman?”
“Women can be abusive, too.”
Carl lets out something that’s a cross between a snort and a laugh.
“It’s not funny,” I reprimand.
“And to be clear, you don’t mean physically abusive, right?” he asks.
“Right. Psychologically or something.”
“Maybe Maria’s into it.” He shrugs and takes another oversized bite of pasta. Red sauce flicks over his lips and shirt. I offer him a napkin. He refuses.
“She’s not. That’s my point. It’s been a few weeks. No one goes from straight to bi that fast.”
“Maybe she was always –“
“And no one goes from normal Maria into weird kink/fetish Maria in two weeks. I’ve known this girl forever. This is not her thing.”
“Okay. Okay. Can we just drop it? You’ve been going on about Maria and Reyna ever since you got home.”
I sigh. He’s right. I need to let it go. The rest of the day at work my mind was spinning. Between the horror of Maria being some sex slave and the fantasy of June worshipping Reyna, it was a complicated day.
“I know. I’m sorry. It just really freaked me out.”
Of course, I don’t tell Carl about June. I don’t know how he’d react to that story. Did I like watching June? Would he think I’m gay? Would he be really into it and want me to do it more? Would he be disgusted? None of that sounds appealing.
And of course, I also don’t tell him where my panties went. He won’t notice they’re missing, but I can’t explain to him where they went or how they got into Reyna’s hands. Best to avoid that whole topic of conversation.
“How was work today?” I ask, trying to bring the conversation back to him so he’ll participate.
“Fine.”
“Anything interesting happen?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
I try the spoon thing again, but eventually I abandon it. Forks are easier. I like forks. Forks it shall be.
“What did you want to do tonight?” I ask.
“I figure we could watch something. A low-key night.”
“Right. Anything in mind?”
“Nah. We’ll find something.”
“Okay.”
We fall into a steady rhythm of silverware scratching and clanking against dishes. Carl slurps his noodles and adds a new color pattern to his shirt. I try to offer him a napkin a few more times, but he refuses each time. He gets a second helping, while I slowly and deliberately stir my noodles, letting my thoughts get the better of me.
Reyna’s words to me. The promise I would one day come to her. The teasing about what I am: a woman who worships or a woman to be worshipped. June’s number still in my pocket. My beauty. June attracted to my beauty. All of it swirls around me and haunts me. And those eyes. Her amber eyes. I catch them in mirrors and in strange women walking down the street. What is she?
“Carl?”
“Yeah?” he asks from the kitchen.
“Do you think I’m beautiful?” I ask slowly.
I hear the clatter of him placing his dish on the counter in frustration.
“Sarah …” he sighs.
“What?”
“We have this conversation all the time.”
“So?”
“Well, if I haven’t convinced you before, what makes you think this time will be different?”
“I just need to hear it,” I say. It’s pathetic.
“Of course, you’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I don’t push him. It’ll just make him mad. I’ve run out his patience. And it’s not him. He says I’m pretty all the time. The problem is me. I know it’s me. The words all bounce off me. Am I beautiful? Beautiful like Reyna? Her dark skin and dark hair. Her thin face and full figure. Would Carl trade me for her? Of course, he would. Maria did. I would.
“I love you,” I say weakly.
“I love you too,” he says automatically.
He finishes. I finish. I clean up. He sets up Netflix on the TV. I change into my PJs (with fresh panties) and join him. He picks a comedy. We laugh. It rolls on into the next episode. We keep laughing. I make popcorn. He has a beer. It’s simple, but it’s elegant. It’s home. It’s easy and peaceful.
After his third beer, his hand starts to wander. I’m tired now. I have work in the morning. We’ve been in front of the television for three hours. He could have made his move at any time before that. But I don’t stop him.
His hand moves from my knee up my thigh. He knows I’m sensitive there and starts to draw small circles over my pajamas. The circles get smaller and smaller and move further and further down between my legs. I feel the heat and let my body unfurl from our cuddling. He takes it as an invitation and leans into me, filling the gaps. He turns off the TV and turns to face me.
I run my hands through the scruff of his beard. His face is soft and round. He’s a big guy, over six feet tall. But that’s what I love about him: there’s so much of him to love. I kiss him softly at first, but he presses into me, hungry. His hunger fuels mine, and I crash back into him. He crawls on my lap, and I let his hands roam over my stomach while I hold the back of his neck.
“You know,” I say between kisses, “we have a bedroom.”
“Too far,” he says with a smile. I laugh and kiss him deeper. His hands roam up and start to find my chest. I’ve always had huge boobs, and Carl works to give them the attention they deserve. He’s a little too quick to find my nipples though, and it feels more like someone is pawing at my tits rather than teasing them for a reaction. They deserve to be teased, to have the sensation drawn out over hours of torture.
I can’t help but think of June’s nipples. Are they already pierced for Reyna? Was she a good slut and did she get them pierced as soon as possible? Does that mean Reyna owns her now? If she left with Maria, I can assume Reyna’s already had taste after taste of June’s tits. Are Maria’s nipples pierced, too? I couldn’t tell through her shirt today, but I looked. Trust me, I looked. Maybe Maria isn’t owned yet. Maybe there is hope for her. Or maybe she isn’t a slut like June. Maybe Reyna only pierces sluts.
I feel heat build in my panties. Carl is fumbling with my shirt, struggling to get it off. The heat isn’t from him. It’s June and her slutty ass showing off for me. It’s Maria and her perky tits pierced. She cries in pain and Reyna licks her lips. It’s Reyna watching over Carl and me, watching him try to make love to me like a moron, and she’s laughing. Reyna’s laughing at me; I know she is.
I shut my eyes. She’s not here. She’s not in my head. She doesn’t control me. She isn’t going to win.
I open my eyes. Carl is staring at me. My bra is off, and my hands are covering my tits. Shit. What happened?
“You okay?” he asks. The concern in his voice is genuine.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You sure? You went somewhere in your head there.”
“Yeah.”
“What were you thinking about?”
He takes his weight off his knees and slides off my lap. He slips off the couch and sits in front of me, but he’s so tall we’re still eye to eye.
“I don’t know. My mind kind of blanked.”
“Oh,” he says. We both know this means we’re done. It’ll be a cold night for both of us.
“Why are you covering your nipples?” A smile fills his face. He’s trying to make the best of it for both of us. “It’s not like I haven’t seen them before.”
“I know. I was just thinking,” I start, but my sentence doesn’t go anywhere.
“Thinking what?”
“Um,” I chew my lip to stall for time. Hopefully my cuteness is a distraction.
“Don’t try to use your cuteness as a distraction,” he says. Shit. Carl reaches down and gently pulls my hands away from my breasts. “What are you thinking about?”
“It’s embarrassing. Never mind.”
“Tell me,” he says, his voice is firm.
“I was just wondering …” I lead.
“Yes?”
“What you thought about …”
“Yes?”
“Nipple piercings?”
Carl leans back and lets out a laugh. I feel my face burn with embarrassment.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“That’s all?”
“Yes,” I pout. “Why is it so funny?”
“Because it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“I thought you were going to tell me you were gay or something.” He laughs more and moves away from me to sit on the couch and keep laughing at me.
“I didn’t know how you’d respond.”
“To a nipple piercing?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not a big thing.”
“Well, to some guys it might be.”
“And you think I’m one of those guys?”
“Well,” I hesitate. Carl is an incredibly understanding and compassionate guy. I knew he wouldn’t care about nipple piercings. But I care. “No. You’re not like that.”
“That’s right.”
“But you didn’t answer the question.”
“What question?”
“What do you think about nipple piercings?” I ask.
“On you or in general?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Oh, well. I’m not really a huge fan.”
“Really? I thought guys thought they were kinky or something.”
“Maybe some guys. But not me.”
“You wouldn’t like them on me?”
“Probably not.”
“Why not?” There’s an edge to my voice that I don’t intend. I guess I started off completely ambivalent to the question. I’m not sure where it even came from, but now I’m invested. I know he’s not against it. He’s apathetic. But that’s what bothers me. I don’t want him to be apathetic. I want him to want me with pierced nipples, but I can’t imagine why.