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place like this,” Amy said. She dropped her voice. “And with
my own super hot bodyguard. I mean, I know he’s lost on you,
but if you were into guys, you’d appreciate him a lot, trust
me.”
Elva rolled her eyes. “We trust you, but ew. He’s probably
twenty years older than you.”
Amy lifted a delicate shoulder and swept her hair over it
right after. “So? That’s hot too.”
What would her friends say if she told them that she’d been
with Claire? That she’d let her do wicked things to her body
and that she craved all the wicked things she had yet to offer?
Would Elva be disgusted because Claire was so much older?
Not twenty years, but close enough. Would her friends recoil
at hearing that she’d been strapped? That she couldn’t sit
down for days without the pain shooting up from her bottom,
making her grind her teeth? That the pain had been so
bittersweet, because every single time she felt it, which was
just about constantly, she thought about Claire and was
instantly wet. Would her friends understand the connection
that Haley felt when she was with Claire? It was more than
their bodies. It felt like a communion of souls, tripping up and
tangling up in each other, when they were together.
It’s not a secret. Claire isn’t a secret, and I’m not hers. They
would understand. Maybe.
Whether they would or wouldn’t, Haley wasn’t ready to
open that part of herself up yet. She wasn’t willing to share
Claire with anyone, and picking apart the memories, putting
her experiences into words when words were always going to
be inadequate, was too intimate for her to do yet.
“It’s a nice house,” Haley said, trying to be conversational.
