Page 87 of Total Exposure

A moment later he’s up off the bed. And even though I want him to stay, I think he’s right. I think… there are so many ways to ruin this and only one way to make it right.

With the blindfold.

So I let him go. I don’t take off my blindfold. I don’t even get up to wash my face. I want his claim on me all night.

Chapter Thirty - Ixion

It’s a peculiar thing to feel reluctance about a woman I’m involved with. I mean, typically I don’t feel anything at all.

Not true. I feel satisfaction in the moment of climax.

But I feel a reluctance to leave Evangeline after we’re done.

I do leave her. Feeling things and doing things don’t always coincide in my mind. So I do leave her.

But I don’t want to.

And then, when I get back down in the basement, I have a strange premonition that I’m taking this too far. That what I’m doing is crossing a line. Hers, for sure. But his too. And if I go through with this, it’s an ending of sorts. With her, for sure again. And him too.

Not that we didn’t already end things. That happened a long time ago. But he moved on and I sorta… didn’t. I sorta stayed behind. Sorta… dwelled. And let it all fester and build into an anger I had no idea I was holding inside me until I saw his face when he came to bail me out of jail.

And now I’m pissed. And I’m sorry, too. Sorry that Evangeline is a part of this. Sorry that I’m playing his game with her. Sorry if she gets hurt. And then I wonder…

Maybe there’s another way to get what I want?

So I stay up for a while looking for information. Watching the footage. Reading her story, her poem, and her Wikipedia page, over and over again.

Wanting more because I know the answer is out there.

I mean… can she really hate me if I fix her in the end?

Why do I care if she hates me?

I dunno. I do. So I sit down to write, and even though it takes a lot longer to get it right this time, I put in the effort. Her poem is like a challenge. A way to turn her past into art. Or something like that.

By the time I’m done, it’s nearly six AM and I never went to sleep. I tell myself, no big deal. I’ve stayed up days at a time before.

But I lose the battle as soon as I get back into bed after putting the book on the counter for her.

Chapter Thirty-One - Evangeline

I wake before dawn. Rested and filled with hope and maybe even a little satisfaction. I want more of last night, so after I shower, I put on a clean nightgown and go downstairs, not really expecting the book to be waiting for me, but it is. And I don’t even know what that feeling coursing through my body means.

Is it elation? I don’t know.

I just pick up the book, run back up the stairs, and get into bed to continue the story where he left off.

The first time Jordan kissed me I punched him in the face. The second time I was drunk, and we had a girl in between us, so I didn’t really care. The third time he sucked my cock afterward.

I stopped talking to him for months after that. It was senior year of high school and even though I’m not gay, and I’ve always known I wasn’t gay because I really like pussy, I’m really not bisexual either.

I mean, yeah, OK. I’ll fuck with Jordan if there’s a girl involved I like. But anyone else? No. I’m not into it.

I was just into him. That’s it.

And trust me when I say that has passed. I’m not interested in spit-roasting you, Evangeline. I don’t like to share anymore. I’m not letting you spy on him with the hope that we’ll eventually fuck you together.

Then why, I wonder?