something so perverted come across as sexy?” she questions.
“I don’t know. Half the shit he says to me should be icky, but coming from him, it never feels that way.”
Me: Brooke thinks you’re sexy.
“Oh, my God! You did not just send that?”
I continue to laugh. “Relax, he has no idea who I am. He doesn’t even know my last name. Plus, he thinks I’m single with no kids.”
“What? Does he know what you do for a living?”
“Yes, but I haven’t told him my pen name.” She looks at me with her mouth ajar, and I attest, “I’m just having fun.”
Alec: Sexy, huh? Way to stroke my ego. I’ll just have to tuck her into my back pocket.
“He can tuck me in other places as well,” she quips with a wink.
Me: If she’s in your back pocket, where am I?
Alec: Where do you want to be?
“Yeah, Tori. Tell him where you want to be.”
“You’re worse than he is,” I jokingly chastise.
Brooke and I continue to goof around while texting Alec. We are just two girls teasing around with a boy, the way young adolescents would do. We may be women in our thirties, but girls will be girls no matter what age they are. At least that’s how we function, which is why we have always been such good friends. Brooke totally gets me where others might look down their noses at me for acting immature.
Alec: I need to get going. You girls enjoy the rest of your night.
Me: Where are you off to?
Alec: A party.
A pang of something needles me. I’m unable to put a word to it, but it’s a multitude of pieces of shock, jealousy, surprise, let down, inferiority, irritation, hurt, and insecurity that make up this raw emotion that pricks me. Maybe it’s the denial I have about this guy who seems so genuine and nice. I know this part about him, but from everything we’ve talked about and his personality, it’s so difficult for me to see him as this emotionless man that can go and sleep with random people. A man who doesn’t care to even get to know these people he’s doing this with. To me, the type of man who does that should come across as an insincere asshole, which is nothing like who Alec is to me. Alec spends hours on end talking to me and texting. He asks me questions and takes the time to answer mine.
“A party?” Brooke questions, and I explain to her what Alec told me about the exclusive sex club scene he’s a part of. She listens in astonishment, the same way I did when Alec first told me about it. “But you said he got off on the phone with you today, and he still needs more? Is he like an addict or something?”
“I asked him if he was, but he assured me he wasn’t,” I explain. “He said he has a high sex drive but he gets off more on the thrill of sex with strangers, with watching people have sex, and with people watching him.”
Alec: Are you still there?
Me: Yeah, sorry.
I respond when I realize the length of pause I took, and then the phone rings with his call.
“Hey.”
“Is everything okay?”
I note the softness to his voice, a contradiction to his normal husky tone.
“Yes.” Brooke then stands to excuse herself to the restroom, and I begin to ramble, “I just didn’t know how to respond, and then Brooke asked what you meant by ‘party’ and I tried explaining to her what you had told me about it.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No,” I answer, but it feels like a lie. He doesn’t say anything, and when the silence grows, I falter a little, saying “I don’t know. I mean . . . maybe it does a little.”
“Why?”
I deflect off my unsettled feelings and put it on him. “I guess it worries me, the fact that you’re spreading yourself around. Aren’t you worried?”
“Everything in life comes with risks, Victoria. But this is a calculated risk. I’m safe, my partners are safe, everyone is tested. It’s not as if we are meeting up in sketchy underground clubs.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Different places,” he tells me. “Tonight I’ll be at the XV Beacon.”
“The XV?” I question because the XV Beacon is a luxury boutique hotel in the heart of Boston. It caters to the sophisticated and distinguished and has a rich history in the city. “That hotel doesn’t seem like the one to accommodate a sex party.”