“Talk Dirty To Me”

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I didn’t hear from him for four days. Four days is not a long time. I know this. I am a thirty-four-year-old woman with a job and a life and a best friend who needed a full debrief about the bar night that I was not going to give her, and four days passed the…

His hands were on my face and his mouth came down on mine and every managed thought I’d been carrying since I sat down at that bar was gone. Not gradually. All at once. He kissed like he had a point to make – deep, certain, his hands moving from my face to my throat…

Ella’s idea of supportive was three cocktails and a speech about how Marcus was never good enough anyway, delivered at increasing volume over the course of two hours at a bar we’d never been to before because she said a new place was a fresh start and I didn’t have the energy to argue. She…

I’m standing in front of my bathroom mirror putting on my second earring and I’m late and I don’t care, which is new. I am not a woman who is late. I am a woman who arrives five minutes early and has already assessed the room by the time anyone else gets there. I manage…