Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“How’d you know he—oh right. Is Gray at the same meeting now?”
“Yup. Tell me about your date. Did he stay over?”
“He may have.”
She laughs softly.
I can’t hold this in any longer. “Serena, you don’t understand. I’ve never been with someone who’s so…attentive to my needs.”
“You mean focused on giving you lots of orgasms?”
“Okay, I was trying to be polite. But yeah.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. He’s so patient, too.” I grin at the wall like an idiot.
“Mmm, nice combo.”
“Enough about me,” I say. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? Kind of shitty. I want this little goblin out of me. But I’m scared of labor. And terrified about actually taking care of him when we bring him home.”
My heart twists. Serena has major life changes ahead of her and here I am giving her my orgasm stats.
“Aw, honey, you’re going to be such a good mom,” I assure her. “I know you are. Gray seems like he’s looking forward to being a dad.”
“He really is. You want to talk about patient? He’s been…God, Emily. The more mommy blogs I’ve been checking out, the more I realize not all fathers-to-be are this supportive.”
Tears warm my eyes and I close them briefly. “That’s wonderful, Serena.” I sniffle, then laugh. “And, ew, what are mommy blogs?”
“Ugh, you don’t even want to know.”
Facts.
“Hey, you know I’ll do whatever I can to help you out too. Libby keeps asking about you, so she might even babysit once or twice.” I try to end with a joke, but I don’t think it lands right.
“Thanks.” She sniffles. “Lilly’s been such a big help. I think she’s happy she’ll have another boy mom around.”
Jealousy stabs through me, followed by shame. I don’t want to share my bestie with anyone else, even Lilly who I actually like. Also, boy mom? There’s going to be a lot more of this mom-speak stuff in Serena’s future, isn’t there?
“Well, I can’t wait to meet baby Lincoln.” And promptly hand him back to you. Nothing. Absolutely nothing she’s shared about her pregnancy has made me want to experience it for myself.
“So, when are you seeing him again?” Serena asks in a lighter singsong voice that reminds me of Libby’s teasing.
“Tonight, I think. Libby doesn’t get home until late tomorrow.”
“Well, I’ll expect a full report.” She laughs then yawns. “I’m about to take my second nap of the day.”
“Nap while you can.”
“That’s what I hear.”
We say our goodbyes. While I still have my phone in my hands, I send Libby a text asking about her trip. Not that I expect her to be staring at her phone at all times, but when she doesn’t answer right away, worry taps a frantic beat in my chest.
I never should’ve let her go on this trip.
Ping.
Libby: Having a blast. Miss you.
She follows up with several kissy face emojis.
Me: Be safe.
Not wanting to wait for the inevitable eyeroll emoji, I set down my phone and pick up my laptop.
What the hell did Dex say the name of his nightclub was? He calls it CB…Crystal Ball! That’s it.
I type it into Google. Dozens of pictures and entries come up. Some for actual crystal balls and fortune tellers. Who knew there was a psychic right on Central Ave.?
I try again. “Crystal Ball” + “Nightclub” + Empire, NY.
Several colorful images appear.
“Oh my God.” I sit and stare at the screen.
Young, pretty women, in revealing outfits in seductive poses. A stage with poles. Cozy looking “VIP” rooms.
Crystal Ball isn’t a nightclub. It’s a “gentleman’s” club. A strip joint. A fully nude strip club that doesn’t serve alcohol and has huge, menacing bouncers at the front door, according to hundreds of Yelp reviews.
Why did Dex lie?
No, I guess technically he didn’t lie. Crystal Ball operates from early afternoon until late in the night. And it’s a club.
Son of a box of biscuits.
Anger burns through me, followed by a heavy sadness. I thought Dex was better than this. But it turns out he’s just another man making money off of selling women’s bodies?
Why didn’t he tell me from the start?
Probably because he knew I’d react like this. What woman wants to think of her boyfriend watching young, pretty, naked women all night long?
Even worse, all the tawdry stories I’ve heard about how strip clubs operate stand front and center in my mind. VIP rooms used as a cover for prostitution. Club owners who extract sexual favors from the dancers. Dancers not being paid a fair wage or managers taking most of their earnings. Ugly fragments of things I’ve heard over the years scroll in an endless loop—like a twenty-four-hour news network offering bits and pieces of sensationalized headlines—inside my head and I can’t shut it off.
Oh my God. Is that why he wanted to watch me masturbate last night? He’s used to women putting on a show for him? Hot shame turns my cheeks red. I probably looked so stupid. He’s used to professional dancers who know how to look sexy and enticing from every angle.