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She loved him as a person. Sometimes, she even loved the dick attached to him when she felt a certain way, but she really wished he’d been born a woman.
He’d laughed when she’d muttered that and said, “Well, maybe in the next life.”
Divorcing her favorite person was a social nightmare, but once she’d cleared the air between them, she’d told herself that she would never pretend anymore. They both deserved to get everything they wanted…assuming it could be found at all in what was rapidly becoming boondocks hell.
Heidi twined her fingers and stared at the wall.
She listened to the rhythm of Carine’s breathing until it regulated and quieted.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anyone in her bed. It’d been before she’d bought that condo, certainly.
It dawned on her that she hadn’t abstained from bringing people home on purpose. Things had always shaken out that she did her fucking elsewhere, which was all it ever was. Fucking and domming because she was a wretch who didn’t tend to like most people beyond their packaging.
The whole world, minus four or five people, knew her as dynamic, sardonic, and usually endearing, but she just knew how to put on a good show. From the time she was eighteen months old, the constant refrain in her house had been, “Now, you be sweet,” and she was for a bit because little girls were rewarded for being docile. They were rewarded for acting like cotton candy when they were really wads of barbed wire.
“You can talk now, darlin’,” Heidi murmured, studying the gray-green paint on the wall. Suddenly, she hated it, and she wanted something warmer. There was no reason a forty-three-year-old woman had to consider “Eh” good enough when she had the desire and resources to have “Yes,that, exactly that.”
“You can talk,” Heidi said. “You can move. You can do what you want.”
Carine didn’t move a muscle.
Heidi looked over her shoulder at the scowling woman.
Carine was wearing herI-don’t-believe-youface.
“I assume you have some idea of what you want to do now,” Heidi said. “You can do it.”
“I…can’t tell if you’re dismissing me. It’s like going to a new church and not knowing when you’re supposed to stand or sit. Am I supposed to just…”
Heidi gave Carine a minute to glue some more words to her sentence, but they never arrived. She may have hoped Heidi would forget she’d launched the query. Heidi never forgot. “Supposed to what?”
Carine swallowed. “Leave?”
“If you want. Up to you. Lots of folks get up and leave during the intermission of a show, and that’s to be expected. Not everything is for everyone.”
“But at least they have a program. They know what’s supposed to happen in the next act.”
“Sometimes.” Heidi turned back to the wall. “And other times, the actors don’t know that either. They’re fully prepared to stand on that stage when the curtain opens and make shit up until it’s time to bow. Either way, the show never plays out the same way twice.”
