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He pauses to look at me.
“Ramona, you’re killing me. Totally, utterly killing me.”
I nod miserably.
“I know, but I have to say it. Um, a couple summers ago, I went to Manhattan and told everyone that I was there for an amazing internship opportunity. I didn’t list it on my resume or anything because … well, because the internship didn’t exist.”
Carlton nods.
“Okay. That’s bad, but it’s not that big of a deal if it’s not on your resume. Now moving on—“
But I cut him off then.
“No Carlton,” I say in a slightly shaky voice. “What I did was much worse. I worked as an escort,” I confess in a whisper. “I made a lot of money that summer pleasing rich men, and it paid for my remaining years of school.”
My voice fades to nothingness, and the silence is so loud that it rings in my ears. Oh my God, have I said too much? But the thing is that I couldn’t let my past go unspoken anymore because it’s too big of an issue. Carlton has to know if we’re really going to make a go of things.
The handsome man looks at me, those blue eyes unreadable.
“Are you serious?”
I nod miserably.
“I worked for a place called Club Z,” I add in a whisper. “It wasn’t bad. Actually … I liked it.”
Carlton closes his eyes for a long moment, but when he re-opens them, that blue gaze is fierce. Then, the handsome man begins to stroke my cheek softly, the most delicate of gestures from someone so huge.
“Ramona,” he begins haltingly, looking slightly pained. Carlton clears his throat. “Sometimes, I just don’t know what to do with you. You utterly confound me, from your stubborn, hard-headed ways to this insane scheme you dreamed up. What were you thinking?”
I swallow hard, tears springing to my eyes.
“I needed the money,” I say past the lump in my throat. “Escorting pays ten times better than any there job out there, and I figured it’d just be one summer. No one would have to know, and I understand if you don’t want to be with me.”
He shakes his head.
“You are the most confounding woman ever, Ramona,” Carlton reiterates. But then he sighs. “I don’t love it, I have to admit that. But I don’t hate it either. It’s why you’re so wanton, isn’t it? When I pound you hard, you take it like a champ. When I stuck things into your ass, your pussy just got wetter. That’s the reason, isn’t it? Because you used to work as an escort?”
I nod, unsure whether to be happy or sad at this revelation.
“Yes,” I admit. “Club Z taught me how to enjoy my body and the pleasure it brings. It taught me how to pleasure men too.”
Carlton shoots me one more long look, but then he chucks me under the chin.
“Well then, I’m the lucky one, aren’t I? To have a girlfriend so generous with her body, and who knows exactly what to do to make me come.”
I nod, hope beginning to blossom in my chest.
“So you’re okay with it?”
He pauses for a moment before nodding.
“Yes, because I love you, Ramona. And just to change the subject fora moment, I remember the bullying from our childhoods,” he confesses, his voice going tight. “Although I didn’t realize what I was doing back then.”
I stare up at his azure eyes, unsure what to say in response. I decide to let him speak without interruption, just as he let me pour my heart out.
“I don’t want to diminish what you went through, but it was over twelve years ago,” he continues. I flinch slightly at his wording, but remind myself to just listen, to hear his side of our difficult story.
“And for the most part, we were friends when we were kids.” Carlton tilts his head, trying to catch my gaze. I nod slowly, agreeing with this point.
“And the day you’re referring to – the day where I was admittedly a real jerk to you – well, there’s a lot more to that story than what you seem to think.”
I frown at this admission. On the one hand, Carlton is acknowledging that he wasn’t always kind to me, but on the other, I worry that he may be making an excuse for his bad behavior. That would just kill me. After the #MeToo movement, I don’t think I could handle it if he used those same lame excuses that every high-powered man seems to use when they’re caught.
I feel my body tense up ever so slightly, but try to keep an open mind as I listen to him.
“What reason – aside from being an angsty teenager – do you have for being such a bully to me?” I demand, my voice sharp with emotion.
Carlton sighs deeply and takes my hand. “What I’m about to say is not an excuse, and I don’t mean for it to be,” he begins gently.
