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Bev
I laid in my bed, staring up at the ceiling like I had a personal vendetta against it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the roof that was taxing my nerves, but it was the only thing I had in front of me to aim all my eye-daggers at.
I knew I shouldn’t have called off of work, but I was way too mad, too hurt to see Fitz’ face again.
Stupid. I just felt so stupid. I should have waited longer, gotten to know Fitz better. If I hadn’t just jumped into bed with him the first chance I got, then I was sure that I would have known what was up. But I had been so blinded by my lust and his charm that I had just taken a swan dive into something I couldn’t take back.
But as I remembered his gentle hands on me, and how good everything had felt, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it that much.
“Aw, come on, Bev. Get over it!”
Yeah right. Like someone ever got over a gorgeous sonofabitch like that turning their world inside out.
Growling to myself, I rolled over and grabbed my laptop from where I had left it on my night stand. I’d never heard of an NDA for sex before, which was part of why I was so blindsided, but there had to have been someone else on the big ol’ web that had experience with it.
Expecting nothing and not certain what to hope for, I went to a search engine and started typing. It took me a couple tries to find the right sort of keywords, but eventually I had several forums and news aggregate sites all on the topic.
I clicked the first one, which was a forum post on an article about sexual NDAs and there were thousands of comments on it. Surprised that I had found it so easily for what I thought would be an obscure thing, I read the article first.
Its title was ridiculous. Contracting NDAs, a New Precaution for the Rich and Famous, but as I read it, I found it was fairly competently and informatively written. Apparently, NDAs weren’t that uncommon. In fact, they were borderline popular amongst celebrities and other social influencers.
Huh. That was not what I had expected.
The article also neither condemned or encouraged the things, just gave information, which I appreciated. But when I finished, I found myself not knowing really how to feel, so I looked to the comments.
Some were jokes that I rolled my eyes at. Some of them were condemnations of our sexual culture. But a few stood out to me. Made on what were called ‘throw away accounts’, a couple of users explained why they used them. One had been black mailed and ended up moving his entire business to get away from all of it. Another had her personal information and photo spread online as her ex-fling had bragged to everyone, he could about her. Another had the person contacting all of his exes to say that he had given her an STD.
As far as I could tell from the handful of comments, the absolute dickery was from all genders, all sexualities, and all ages. These people told about how they had been tricked, and used, and I couldn’t help but feel so terrible for them.
“Huh,” I murmured to myself, absently chewing on my thumb. “You don’t think… no…” I only talked to myself when I didn’t want to believe something my mind was supplying, but before I could argue further, my fingers were already typing.
A moment later, hundreds of gossip sites came up. The first five just had articles from the current year about his growing empire and his singleness, but going a bit further, I found posts from slightly over a decade ago.
Huh, that was kind of a blow to my mind. The internet was old enough for stupid celebrity gossip sites to be past their tenth birthday. Wild.
I clicked on the first article, and sure enough I saw exactly what I had thought I’d see.
Billionaire Blackmail! The Sordid Details of William Fitzgerald’s Bed.
“Oh boy…”
For a moment part of me felt guilty for looking at the article. Like I was violating some sort of trust. But Fitz didn’t know what I was doing, and I found myself needing to know, needing to understand why he had handed me those papers like it was just a matter of course.
It was exactly what I had thought.
He’d had a woman in his bed, some up and coming model who was trying to make a splash, and she’d tried to use him to propel herself into the public eye. When he wasn’t willing to use his influence and wanted to keep their relationship purely on the pleasure side of things, she’s used… uh…. some personal, private mementos that he had shared during their tryst to try to black mail him.
