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“Yeah? You want to sing about sex now?”
I blush. “About sex with you. Sure.”
“You are fucking amazing.” He puts his arm around me. “See anything you like?” I turn back to one of the last songs in his notebook.
“I like this one a lot.” I say, showing him the page. “But I’d want to change a few parts.”
“I’m open to your input. Feel free to write down your notes. The song is about desire.”
“It’s sexy as hell.”
“I wrote it after our first kiss.” He smiles at me. “I was rather turned on after that.”
“Me too.” I smile back at him.
“Yeah. If I recall you played with that pretty pussy of yours after.”
“I did.” I blush at the memory.
“Did you think about me?” I nod. “Did I live up to your fantasy?”
“You were much better.”
“Good.”
I’m about to jump his bones when a knock on the door takes us both out of the moment. I sigh and he laughs, getting up to get the door.
A man wheels in a cart of food. I had almost forgotten I was going to have to eat again. The guy takes the plates off the cart and sets them on the table. Wes slips him a tip.
“Thank you.” Wes offers with a small smile.
I blush realizing the bed is still disheveled from our earlier activities. I hope it isn’t too obvious we fucked.
“No problem.” The man pushes his now empty cart out of the room, shutting the door with a loud thud behind him.
“Shall we? You must be sick of sandwiches. I know I’d be.” Wes comments playfully, before we sit down to eat.
“I am, but Sue picked it out. It had to be better than ham and turkey though.” I add, picking up a fry. “At least the fries don’t suck.”
“They do not.” Wes agrees. “So, I have to know. Do you have a favorite food at all?”
“No, I mean at some point I was obsessed with peanut butter and jelly, but my mother was worried about the carbs in the bread.”
“Ah, so your bitch of a mom is the reason you are like this.”
I shrug, trying not to wince at his words. “I guess, partly.” I take a bite of my club sandwich. I’m not wrong, it’s better than the sandwiches Sue makes for me, but it was still a lot of calories. “I think it’s also about control.”
“I get that. It must feel good to have some control over something.”
“And I like being empty and hollow.”
It’s the first time I ever said that out loud. It feels weird to say. I’m not even sure it makes sense. It makes me feel vulnerable to admit that I am different than everyone else in this.
“Because you feel empty, you want to be physically be empty?” He clarifies.
“Something like that.” I nod. But it is exactly like that, I just can’t bring myself to voice it.
“Do you feel empty now?” He questions, worry etched across his expression.
