Page 39 of The Pleasure of Panic

“Well, that was fucking stupid.”

“Which part? The part where you turn into a batshit crazy person?”

“No, the part where I waste my night with a stupid FBI agent.”

“Well,” I say, reaching the end of the driveway and turning onto the highway. “I did fuck you pretty good.”

“Shut up.”

“Admit it, it was the best part of your night.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I mean, you came hard, right?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

I laugh. “Is there a protocol for this I’m missing?”

“Yes, it’s called shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, I get it. I’m supposed to pretend it never happened.”

“You don’t need to pretend,” she says. “It was… what do they call it? Oh, I know, entrapment.”

I roll my eyes. “Jesus. For a smart person, you sure don’t know very much about the legalities of things. Like your dumb NDA. If he really did set all this up and used the FBI to play this stupid sex game with you—”

“I’m not playing with him, I told you that.”

“—then you have every right to report him. He can’t touch you. Really. I’m not lying. This is my job.”

She turns her head away and stares out into the passing night.

“And if you weren’t playing with him, then who?”

“I thought it was you, dumbass.”

“How do you not know who is supposed to be fucking you, Issy? How does that even make sense?”

“It just does. You’ll have to trust me.”

“Well, I don’t trust you. Not after you went insane back there.”

She breathes out through her nose.

Silence.

“Just fuckin’ tell me what’s going on. I can help you. Will help you. And he won’t touch you. I promise.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about, OK? He’s a stand-up guy. He’s not gonna—”

But my laugh is so loud, she stops mid sentence. “Stand-up guy? Are you kidding me?”

“He runs… he runs a sex fantasy fulfillment business, OK? It’s all legal.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“It is. He’s a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. A very fucking successful one. He wouldn’t cross any lines.”