I’m still confused as I look again at the meter then at something poking out of the dashboard. And now I see it. The picture I thought was still with my phone charger and cracked turquoise earrings. The picture I had opened by surprise in a coffee cup from an ex-lover. The picture of me tweaking perky, pink nipples. The picture that must have slipped from a plastic grocery bag during my ride home weeks ago. The picture I didn’t intentionally leave behind. The sun-faded picture now stuck in a crack in the dirty dashboard of this cab. This stranger, who has me behind locked doors, is picturing me naked. On his dashboard and in his backseat, I am wide-eyed and breathless.
WANT
Alison Tyler
“Just leave my stuff alone.”
“I didn’t touch your stupid stuff.”
“Liar.”
“Bitch.”
We used to be friends, Lia and me. We were tight. We could hang out all day long and still have things to talk about in the evening over a beer, or a margarita, or a cosmopolitan. But when we moved in together, everything changed. Her personality—always larger than life—seemed to spill into every corner of the apartment. I felt as if I couldn’t exist in any room except my own. And even there, she’d track me down, stomping into my private haven, spreading her Opium scent everywhere.
“Did you move my hair dryer?”
“Of course not.” I have short hair. I let my curls dry naturally. I’d have no need to touch her styling tools.
“Did you take my shoes?”
“Why would I take your shoes? We don’t even wear the same style.” Lia was all about sky-high heels, while I favored battered motorcycle boots.
She was always accusatory, and finally, I simply stopped talking to her.
Our other roommate, Vincent, didn’t like the behavior. “You’re not going to speak?”
I shrugged.
“To me, too?”
“Well, you’re fucking her, so you’re going to take her side, aren’t you?”
That was actually my biggest problem. Lia had moved in with the two of us. And in a week, she and Vince had started up a relationship. They fucked on the kitchen table, on the sofa, in the shower. I hadn’t wanted to look too hard at what was annoying me the most—because I think if I had, I’d have seen such a strong streak of jealousy in me that I wouldn’t have been able to drown the emerald monster in my beer.
Vincent’s eyes took on a strange glow, and he simply patted me on the head as if I were a stray dog and walked out of the kitchen. I sighed and grabbed another Heineken. So it was only three p.m. It was five o’clock somewhere.
That night, Vince came into my room. I was wearing my headset so I wouldn’t have to listen to the two of them howl, and I was typing on my computer. I didn’t look up. I didn’t even acknowledge his presence until he ran his thumb over my iPod and shut down my volume. The move was strangely erotic. I could imagine his thumb running just that softly over my clit.
“What’s up?”
That same look was in his eyes. Christ, he was so goddamn handsome. Why did he have to look like that? Why did he have to be so doable and go for her instead of me?
“I want to apologize.”
Now, I settled back in my chair. I was intrigued. “For what?”
“For Lia’s behavior.”
“Shouldn’t she be the one to apologize?”
“She will. I assure you. But I have to say, I didn’t stop her from treating you badly. She’s been rude and inconsiderate and, you know, bitchy. But she’s going to pay for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, tonight, you’re going to listen to me punishing her.”
Had I been mildly interested before? If I had suddenly turned into a cartoon, my eyes would have bugged out of my head and my tongue would have lolled between my lips. In reality, I simply leaned forward, as if quietly intrigued.
Our bedrooms were connected to a bathroom. Vincent went to the wall and opened the adjoining door. Then he walked through the small tiled space and cracked the door that led to his room.
“You can stand in the bathroom. Sit on the counter. Press your face to the slit. Whatever you want. You’ll be able to eavesdrop on Lia’s discipline.”
I was instantly wet. I couldn’t tell if Vincent knew, but I felt the dampness in my panties. I crossed my legs, and Vincent smiled.
“Of course, there’ll be a payment involved.”
“What do you mean?” Did he expect me to give him money?
“Tomorrow night, she’ll get to hear you.”
“Get to hear me what?”
“Get to hear you cry.”
My thoughts felt molasses slow, dark and thick. “What are you talking about?”