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Still sickly aroused and filled with shame, I spin on my heel and practically run out of the voyeur hall. I feel as if I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar as I dash out to my Jeep, starting it in a rush with trembling fingers. Without much thought at all, I pull onto the main road and completely miss the turn toward my house.
But maybe I did that on purpose. Because soon enough, I’m parked in front of Clay’s building.
Sliding the Jeep into park, I sit there and stare straight ahead. Nothing seems to make any sense right now. My heart is confused, but only slightly less confused than my body.
First, I got off thinking about Eden while I was having sex with Clay.
Then I literally started masturbating while watching her pleasure another woman.
What on earth is going on with me? What is my obsession with this woman? That feels like a stupid question. She is walking sex and beauty. Her confidence and perfection are otherworldly. Who wouldn’t be attracted to her?
But am Iattractedto her?
All signs at the moment point to yes.
Does that make me bisexual?
I mean…sure, I kissed a few girls in college, but only when I was drunk. And I occasionally watch a little girl-on-girl porn if the mood strikes, but again…who hasn’t?
Okay, fine.
Now that I frame it all that way, it feels pretty obvious. Maybe I am. That’s fine.
A bi awakening with Madame Kink surely isn’t cause to panic.
However…realizing that I’m secretly seeing a person I’m also wildly attracted to and hiding that from my boyfriendiscause to panic. Surely, I can keep things between me and Eden professional and platonic even if the thoughts in my head are less than innocent, by far.
But am I cheating? Not in the literal sense, obviously. But part of me still feels guilt, and where there’s guilt, there’s blame.
When my phone buzzes in my lap, I nearly scream. Fumbling and almost dropping it, I gasp when I see her name on the screen. With shaking hands, I swipe to answer the call.
“Hello?” I stammer.
“Jade,” she says calmly. “Are you okay? You ran off and had me concerned.”
Don’t ramble, Jade. Be cool.
Rubbing my fingers around my forehead, I let out a deep breath.
“Yes…uh…no. I don’t know. I just…something really bothered me about that. Seeing you with them. And I know what you’re going to say—it’s your job, and I get that. But why do you just let them use you like that? You’re so much better than an accessory in other people’s relationships. Why…do you always focus on everyone else and not yourself?”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I hear them.
She doesn’t respond right away, probably to be sure I’m done with my rambling rant.
“Is this about me…or you?” she asks softly.
“I don’t know,” I reply, a quiver in my voice. “I just…” My voice trails.
“Listen, Jade. I wish you had stuck around and watched the whole thing. Maybe you’d see that I am happy with my job, and I do like helping people. I’m not an accessory. I’m a professional, and I do my job with pride.”
“So why am I so upset?” I murmur into the phone.
She doesn’t respond for a moment. The line is quiet for too long, which might be why I blurt out something so ridiculous I’m immediately regretful.
“Help us.”
“What?” she replies with confusion.
