“So, despite penetration being a thing I desire in bed, I worried that if I admitted I liked it, then that would discount…” Her voice trailed.
“Mary,” I said strongly, “you can like what you like and not let anyone take that away from you. Liking an act consensually doesn’t mean you want it any other way. I am sorry that was your experience. I’d like to fuck that man up.”
“That’s cute, but?—”
“It’s not cute. I want to always protect you,” I said. “But liking what you do… it’s personal geometry and preference. If a bad association leads you away, then we don’t do it. If it doesn’t, it’s good.”
“I appreciate that.”
“You can always be honest with me, but I will always run to protect you. Like it or not, that’s me.”
She shook her head. “I like it. All of you, especially the bits that surprise me. You can be kinky and precious all at once.”
I kissed her slowly, soaking up the love in her voice and the way her tongue felt in my mouth. She wrapped her legs in mine and pulled my hair slightly. I moaned into her mouth.
“Do you want to go again?” Mary asked.
“God, yes,” I said. “But I’d be so greedy.”
A sly smile crossed Mary’s face. “I rather like you greedy, Betty. Greedy and a little possessive.”
Part Three
The Album
Chapter 40
Unintelligible
MARY
“Mary, I need morerage,” AJ said through the studio glass. “Where is it?”
We’d been here too long trying to get me to pump out a successful rendition of ‘Balcony’ but no matter what I did, it didn’t hit the same. I agreed, but couldn’t successfully channel feminine rage.
“Let’s break,” I suggested. “I just need time to read the news or something.”
We broke. I hit the hot beverage station and sipped tea. No coffee. My voice was already shaky after my few hours spent with Betty—most of which was in bed having the best sex of my life.
“Why don’t we switch gears?” Clarice approached with a cappuccino.
I hated that she could do dairy amid a session.
“How so? We must lay this down,” I said.
“You’re practically skipping. I’ve never seen you this happy. You need to get it out of your system.”
“Get happiness out?” I gasped.
“Yes,” Clarice said. “Because all you want to do is write sweet ballads to that woman. I am so happy for you to no longer be miserable and lonely, but damn it woman, can you please reflect on things?”
I saw my anger and discomfort as fuel for raging, but never considered the impact ofloveon songs. I’d been so painfully single for years that I didn’t even remember much about writing a love song. I didn’t even consider how much Betty had influenced ‘Unintelligible’.”
“So, how?”
“I think ‘Unintelligible’ is good enough. It was good. You wereelectric. You’re loved up, so lean into it andthencome back to the rage once it is out of your system.”
“I am notskippingorloved up,” I lied. “That is… it is personal business.”
