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It was so good.
Even now, the semen’s still spilling down my leg, my rim sticky and tacky.
But the boys don’t know where I am. Because I left Nick’s penthouse in the middle of the night, stealing away as everyone else slept.
I’m confused.
I’m supposed to service six men, I get it.
But at the same time, the situation was spinning out of control. The men were fighting over me. Threatening one another with promises of death and destruction.
This isn’t what I want.
I’m not sure what I want, but not this.
So how’s it gonna work? Aaron, Andrew and Nick were half the party. There was still Tom, Damien and Charlie. Things could only go downhill.
So I snuck out, taking just my few meager belonging, and I’m at my friend Karen’s dorm now.
Yep, dorm. Not apartment, but the Hudson University dorms.
Because I haven’t seen Karen in about four years. We were best friends in middle school, but then her family up and left for the City. We stayed in touch via email and text, but I haven’t actually seen Karen in a while.
So I was relieved when she picked up.
“Joanie?” her familiar voice rang out over the phone. “It’s three a.m. What’s going on?”
Good thing college students stay up late because there was pounding music in the background and Karen sounded wide awake.
“I’m good,” came my trembling voice. “This is weird, I know,” came my rushed voice. “But can I come stay with you?”
“Now?” Karen asked dumbfounded. “Like tonight? I didn’t even know you were in the city.”
I nodded miserably.
“I am,” came my whisper. “And my housing fell through. I don’t mind sleeping on your floor. Please, Karen?”
And my middle school buddy came through for me.
“Of course,” she said. “I’m at the Zapata dorms, on Thirteenth and Second. Know where that is? Room 501 like Levi’s 501s.”
I nodded gratefully.
“Thank you,” was my choked voice. “I’ll be there soon.”
And with that, I crept out of Nick’s apartment. It was tough. These billionaires meant so much to me now. But I’d just witnessed a massive fight, almost resulting in bloodshed. With six of them, how would we manage?
So clicking the door shut behind me, I took the high-speed elevator down, getting onto the NYC subway. The trains trundled on their tracks, fluorescent lighting making all the passengers look gaunt and ghost-like.
But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was clearing my head.
And knocking on Room 501, Karen answered immediately.
“Joanie!” she said, sweeping me into a hug. “How are you? This is unexpected.”
I had to say the same. Again, I haven’t seen my friend in about four years, and she’d changed a lot. Instead of the little girl with braces and spunky red hair, that hair was now dyed black. Like goth black. And even though it was three in the morning, Karen had a full face of make-up including deep brown lipstick and painfully stenciled eyebrows.
But her voice was the same, as well as the welcoming look in her eyes.
