I emerged from my bedroom dressed in comfy sweats. It was late Wednesday night, and it was only me and Ryan in the apartment, because Taylor was sleeping at Jackson’s. Suspiciously, it was her turn to cook, and if she thought staying over there would get her out of feeding me, she was forgetting that I’d memorized her DoorDash login.
I rounded the hallway into the kitchen, Walter right on my heels, and was surprised to find Ryan at the island, eating a bowl of cereal.
“You’re still up?” I asked, going to the fridge.
“Yup,” they said in between bites. “Maxine sent me her video late, and I decided to get it done tonight.”
In addition to helping Taylor and me, Ryan did editing work for several other NSFW content creators, and was growing increasingly popular. For good reason. They were great at their job, knew just when to cut clips together, had an amazing understanding of color theory, and were very professional and discreet.
“You’ve been burning the candle at both ends all week,” I said, pouring myself a glass of chilled water from our carafe. “Have you thought any more about hiring someone else?” I set the water back inside the fridge and turned to find them nodding.
“I think it’s getting to the point that I have to. I’m just dreading interviewing people.”
“An introvert’s worst nightmare. Want me to help?”
Ryan looked relieved. “If you don’t mind, yes, please.”
I opened our junk drawer and pulled out a notepad and pen. “Number one: Must be hot.”
Ryan yanked the paper away from me. A brief scuffle broke out over the pen, and I lost the fight when they pump-faked flicking me in the tit. Once I stopped grumbling about how that was obviously cheating, we got down to business and wrote out an actual list of requirements and interview questions. It was surprisingly extensive, but we both agreed that if Ryan was going to do this, they needed to do it right.
We were just finishing up when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out and nearly dropped it when I saw the notification.
“What’s up?” Ryan asked.
In answer, I slid the phone across the island. They caught sight of the video request on my screen and started choking. “Five grand?” Another round of coughing. “What the hell do they want you to do, film an entire porno?”
“That’s only enough for half of one,” I joked, pulling the phone back. My eyes flew over the screen as I read on. The request was from NT95. They’d asked for an hour-long session, and when I went to click on “details” there was just an address.
“Oh, Jesus,” I said.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked.
“They want to meet.”
Ryan shook their head. “I swear people don’t know how to use their eyes anymore.”
“No shit,” I said, trying not to feel betrayed.
I spelled it out in several places on my Me4U, including in my custom work rules, that I didn’t meet in person, and yet I still got several requests like this every month. Usually people just wanted to meet and fuck for free, because audacity. Until now, I didn’t think NT95 would join their ranks. He’d never crossed a line before, was one of the few subs I thought I could trust to be a decent person. It sucked to find out I was wrong about him.
I’m so sorry, I typed, sticking to my professional façade. But I don’t meet in person. Please see my “Dos and Don’ts” list here. I attached a link and hit send before denying the request.
My phone pinged almost immediately. It was another request from NT95, and he’d raised the offer by two grand. Some people just couldn’t take no for an answer.
I pulled up the message to deny it again but froze. There was a picture attached. I zoomed in, frowning, not knowing what I was seeing at first. It looked like a page ripped out of a notebook, on lined paper, with—
The phone fell from my fingers and clattered onto the kitchen island.
Ryan stood. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head so fast the room blurred.
“Lauren? You’re scaring me.”
They crowded close to one side while Walter pressed in on the other, whining, knowing something was wrong.
“My diary,” I managed. “He has my high school diary.” How did he have my diary? My gaze darted from the basement door to the couch to the closed curtains, imagining perverts hiding behind every corner of the house. No, that couldn’t be. If there was someone else in here, Walter would have sniffed them out by now and tried to convince them that he was starving to death and needed to be fed.
Ryan scooped the phone up, and it immediately beeped with another message. Their eyes flashed wide as they read it.
“What does it say?” I squeaked, cringing down in my seat like if I somehow made myself a small enough target, I wouldn’t be hit with whatever was about to come out of Ryan’s mouth.
Their gaze lifted to mine. “Please, Lo.”
I nearly fell off my barstool.
Holy shit.
NT95 was Junior.
Junior was a sub.
My first sub. My favorite sub.
And he had my high school diary.
I reached for the phone, my voice eerily steady. “I need to see something.”
Ryan handed it over, and I finished reading the journal page Junior had sent and then looked up the address he’d asked me to meet him at. As I’d guessed, it was the location of the arcade. I set the phone back down and turned to Ryan, explaining what I’d pieced together.
They frowned. “And he wants to what? Pay you seven grand to go play out your final request?”
“I can’t think of what else he could possibly want for that price. Unless this is all some elaborate ruse and he plans to kill me, skin me, turn me into Lauren jerky and spend the next ten years slowly consuming me piece by hard-to-digest piece.” What can I say? Thanks to Taylor, I had cannibals on the mind.
Ryan scrunched their nose. “I doubt that. One bite, and he’d realize how bad you taste and throw the rest away.”
That startled a laugh out of me, but it sounded low-key unstable, and I quickly cut myself off. “It was Junior all along.”
Ryan slowly dropped onto the stool beside me, their expression wary. “I know.”
“He was my first subscriber.”
They grimaced. “I know.”
I buried my face in my hands. NT95 had spent thousands of dollars on custom PPV. We’d spent hundreds of hours sexting each other. I’d even commiserated with him over what a narcissistic asshole his father was, which, hahahahaha, what an understatement.
My mind reeled. I couldn’t reconcile what was happening. I liked NT95. I valued him as a sub, borderline thought of him as a friend, and it was fucking Junior Trocci this whole time?
“Sooo,” Ryan said, “I think it’s safe to say the stalking didn’t start recently.”
I laughed again, and yup, it was definitely hysterical. I felt hysterical. My entire body buzzed like I was standing too close to a downed wire. Emotions flashed through me, one after another, betrayal and confusion and rage and something giddy that felt oddly like . . . glee? No, no, that couldn’t be right. I must have been having a stroke.
“What are you going to do?” Ryan asked.
I lifted my head up. “Change my identity and move to Europe. I hear Denmark has pretty strict stalking laws.”
“I’m serious,” Ryan said.
I shrugged. “I have no idea, but that’s so much money. Money that could be put toward more outreach programs or ads talking about the bill.”
“Uh-uh,” Ryan said. “None of that. Take your advocacy work out of the equation. No one would want you to put yourself in danger over it.”
I tore my gaze away from theirs. Was I really in danger? My thoughts spiraled back over the past several years. NT95 had been Junior, all this time, just quietly being my number one supporter, never demanding too much, never crossing a line. He was always the first to congratulate me after a rally or a meeting with a politician, and he always asked how my day was when we chatted, like he actually cared about me. He was even the one who told us to switch from a VPN to Tor to keep our location hidden online. And not for nothing, but I’d never felt like I was in danger in his presence. Not back in high school, and not even now, knowing that he was probably a dangerous man.
Ryan studied me. “You want to accept it, don’t you?”
I glanced down and ruffled the fur behind Walter’s neck, mulling it over. “I don’t know if I can. You were there afterward. You saw what I was like.”
They nodded, looking solemn. “I remember.”
“You know what’s terrible? I’m trying to think of the last time someone got me this worked up, and I’m drawing a complete blank.”
They shrugged. “It makes sense. A man you used to be obsessed with suddenly shows back up in your life, trying to make things right, and now he’s the one obsessed with you? Anyone would get worked up about that.”
“Maybe, but I don’t love the fact that he’s essentially been cyberstalking me.”
“Me neither,” Ryan said.
“But what if it was all so he could make sure I was safe? Does that somehow make it okay?” I rubbed my face in my hands. What was this guy doing to me? My brain felt itchy.
“I don’t know, Lauren,” Ryan said. “I wish I could be more help than this, but you know him much better than I do.”
I sighed. “God, what I wouldn’t give to be Taylor for a few days, to just take things in stride and not constantly overanalyze everything.”
“Seriously,” Ryan said. “And I know she’s not here, but I feel safe in speaking for the both of us when I say that we’ll support you no matter your choice.”
I leaned over and hugged them. “You’re the best.”
They squeezed me back. “If you do decide to go through with it, Taylor and I are coming along and standing right outside the door of the arcade. With weapons. And Walter. Just in case.”
I glanced down at our angel baby, still pressed to my side, his elephant stuffy clutched in his mouth, dark eyes innocent and guileless as he stared up at me. “Not sure what help Walter will be,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides a tripping hazard.”
Ryan chuckled, then quieted for a moment before saying, “You don’t have to make a decision tonight.”
“I know,” I told them.
I was still so torn. Despite the fact that I’d forgiven Junior for what he’d done to me back in high school, it didn’t mean that I would ever let him back into my life. He’d shown me that he couldn’t be trusted with my heart, and I believed him.
On the other hand . . .
If I was being totally honest with myself, I wanted to fuck him. Hard. Dirty. Rough. I wanted everything his reputation promised. I wanted him ruthless. Wanted him to use me like his plaything. And maybe that was because it would be easier to keep myself from getting attached if there was no gentleness or affection, or maybe that was because it was just how I liked it. Either way, the longer I thought about it, envisioned myself dropping to my knees in that photo booth and choking down Junior’s dick, the more I wanted it.
This could be the closure Taylor mentioned when I first told her about my past. One last hookup with the man who’d hurt me, one final, good memory to say goodbye forever and move on with my life.
I lifted my gaze back to Ryan. “Will you think I’m stupid if I say yes?”
They shot me a look. “Of course not. I just want you to be safe.”
“Me, too. Are you serious about coming with me?”
They grinned. “I mean, not coming with you, but yes, I’ll be nearby with a bat if he turns out to be an asshole.”
That was no idle threat. They’d played baseball all the way through high school and had a killer swing. Maybe literally if Junior pushed his luck.
“Thank you.”
They nodded. “And you know Taylor will be there with bells on.”
“Probably in full Harley Quinn cosplay ready to fuck shit up.”
I would never stop being grateful for having such badass, loyal friends.
My gaze slid from Ryan to my phone. Seven grand. I could look at it as Junior’s payment for past sins, keep it rough and transactional to avoid getting attached. That way I could get this lingering need for him out of my system, tell him I accepted his apology after all, and then never see him again.
Before I could get stuck in my head about it, I scooped my phone off the counter and hit accept.
