Page 52 of The Pleasure of Panic

“Hmm,” I say.

“You don’t agree.”

“No, that’s the funny part. I absolutely agree. I’ve been indifferent witch for a pretty long time now.”

“But… your job?”

I shrug. “My job is to give people hope. To help them realize their mistakes, make the right changes, and then move on. So that’s what I do.”

“It’s all bullshit?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. And just a smidge, just a teeny-tiny dash of disappointment leaks out of him.

“No, it’s not bullshit. I believe in self-defense, so I show them how to take a man down who’s twice their size. And I believe in self-preservation, so I tell them to think of themselves first because you can’t take care of anyone else unless you’re taking care of you. And I tell them they’re worthy of that, because the world has taught them they’re not. But I don’t teach them anything more than self-reliance and confidence. I don’t sugarcoat anything. I ask them to be true to themselves—whatever that may look like—and that’s it.”

The eyebrow drops back into place. The dash of disappointment morphs into more than a little bit of respect. And the Q&A time is over, because he reaches into his pocket, where he must’ve stuffed them earlier, and holds the nipple clamps in the palm of his hand. “How sure are you of these?”

I inhale. Exhale. And say, “I don’t even know how to put them on.”

We both laugh at that. Like… silly, this-is-great-fun kind of laughing.

“I’ve never done this before either,” he says. “Let me make that disclaimer before we start.”

“Should we Google it?” I ask, still giggling.

“Nah,” he says, pinching one open and bringing it towards my nipple. “How hard could it be. Just —”

I jump back, grabbing at my nipple. “Holy shit! Ow, ow, ow, ow!”

He winces. “OK, let’s Google it.”

Twenty minutes later we’re sitting on his couch, engrossed in a sexpert’s video series on YouTube. In fact, we’re watching Butt Plugs 101 right now because the autoplay is on and this chick has like, every topic imaginable.

Finn looks over at me, hesitant to take his eyes off the demo on his laptop screen. “Did you—”

“No,” I say quickly. “I didn’t bring a butt plug.”

“Just checking,” he says. “Trying to make your fantasy night everything you thought it would be.”

“Honestly, I’ve never even thought about butt sex.”

“No?” He laughs. Loud. “Surely you’ve—”

“Nope.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Jesus.”

“Is that weird?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs.

“So you… have? Done that? With other people?” He pretends not to hear my question. “Finn?”

“Come on,” he says. “Don’t make me answer that.”

“Why, you’re embarrassed?”