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19 September

Dear Diary,

Is that how I'm supposed to start this? I hope not. That sounds stupid. This whole thing sounds stupid. I've never kept a diary before. I'm not even sure what to write here. It just feels dumb. But I need to get past that. I need to find a path forward.

My therapist thinks this is a good idea. She said sometimes writing down your thoughts and feelings helps you get them out and identify them. She thinks it will help after what happened. I don't know. It doesn't feel like it's helping. It feels... forced. Fake. Stupid.

I hate doing this, but I'll try. I'll try to get my thoughts out on paper. I'll try to be honest with this and who knows, maybe it will work. Doctor Fox is a smart lady. She wouldn't have told me to do this if it was stupid. This will help. I have to convince myself that it will help, so it will.


It has to.

Edited by IsabellaRose
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20 September

I have no idea what I'm going to write in this every day. Nothing happens in my life. I am a creature of routine. 

I get up, I go to work, I come home, I eat, I read, I go to sleep. It's the same every day. Every day is exactly the same, just like that song by Nine Inch Nails. It's how I feel, too. My favorite lines are:

"I think I used to have a voice
now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around"


"I can feel their eyes are watching
In case I lose myself again
Sometimes I think I'm happy here
Sometimes, yet I still pretend"

That's how I feel. Broken. Watched. Like everyone is just waiting for me to slip right back into it. 

Okay, if I'm going to go all in on this, I should I guess... what? Introduce myself? Talk about my personal tragedy? Tell why I'm seeing a shrink?

This still feels stupid and useless. Who am I even writing this for?  I know myself. I know what happened. I know what I'm trying to do now. I'm not letting anyone else read this like, ever. Okay, fine. Doctor Fox says to write it all down. Here it all is.

My name is Isabella Rose Beaumont. Yeah, I sound like I should be rich, right? I'm not. In grade school they called me Dizzy Izzy. I don't use a nickname anymore. I'm always Isabella to everyone now. I like my name. I think it's pretty and feminine and makes me sound like a professional if I use my full first name instead of Izzy. 

I'm 26. I went to college like a good little girl and studied library sciences. I'm a wanna be librarian. I dress the part, too. Every day at work I wear a suit with a skirt and heels. My hair is always up and I wear glasses. The hair is just a practical thing. My hair is long and gets in the way at work. Up is best. The glasses are genetic. The suits are a choice. I want people to think of me as a professional. The heels... well, they're multi purpose. I'm short, so they give me height. They match the suits and look professional, so there's that. But also, they look sexy.

I like to feel sexy.  

I live by myself in a shitty little apartment. It's small. I just moved in last year, after I got back on my feet. It's just a single bedroom, a living room with a small eat-in kitchen and a bathroom. There's exactly three closets and nowhere to store most of my old stuff. It's all still in a storage unit. Someday I'll have to go through that, toss the old junk, and keep what I want. I'm just not ready yet. 

I work as an archivist for a national museum. I maintain and catalog documents and artifacts for our collection. It's exactly as boring as it sounds. I have very few friends, which is mostly my own fault. I don't make friends easily, and I may have pushed most of my old friends away. It's not that they're not friends anymore, they just... there's some issues with trust.

Add to the no friends the fact that I am single. VERY SINGLE.

That's the problem.

Edited by IsabellaRose
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21 September

I just read what I wrote yesterday. That sounds so... first world problem-y. My problem isn't being single. It's that I wasn't, then I suddenly was. I am. He's gone and he's not coming back. 

I think I've accepted that now. I couldn't for a long time. He's not coming back. Lex is gone.

Lex and I were engaged. We were in love. We were

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22 September

Sorry. I couldn't write any more. Every time I think about him, I start to cry. I miss him. I miss him so much. I'm crying right now but I'm going to try to keep writing. He was my everything. He was

Sorry. I did it again, but I calmed down and I'm back tonight. I'm going to try to get this down just to have it written down and get it out.

Lex and I were engaged to be married. We dated since high school. He was my first everything. My first kiss. First dance. First makeout session. First steady boyfriend. First sex. First. He was my number one. He was my everything. We did it all together.

Sorry. I'm back again. It's really hard to write about him without thinking about him, and thinking about him makes me want to be with him and makes me miss him all over again. 

Lex had a smile that melted my heart. It was a goofy smile. His lips kid of curled up on one side, his eyebrow went up, and he'd get this look that said, "girl, you're crazy and you make me laugh and I love you and you're my world." One look said all of that. He was amazing. I'm crying again. I can see that smile when I close my eyes. It's how I see him. That smile. That look. Just confident and comfortable and one hundred percent him and no one else. I miss that smile. I miss him. I miss Lex.

I still love him so much. 

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23 September

It's been two years, two months, eighteen days. It was a car crash. A drunk driver ran a red light, never even tried to stop. He survived with just some broken bones and cuts. Lex was dead on impact. They said he probably didn't even know what hit him.

He had gone out to get dinner. Neither of us wanted to cook, so he ran out to get dinner. I never saw him again. I had just changed into this little sundress, no panties, no bra, just this little sundress. He used to love that dress. He said I looked like his little fifties housewife. 

I had been calling him. He was so late for just grabbing something to eat. I told myself not to worry, but I had a feeling. I knew something was wrong. Then I thought I was just overreacting. I'm a worrier. I get worked up over nothing all the time. I tried to calm myself down, but I was getting worked up.

So I smoked a joint. Lex and I got high sometimes. Not all the time. We weren't druggies or anything. Just a joint here and there. It was a nice way to mellow out, slow down, take the edge off of a long or hard day. I liked to smoke and write or paint. He liked to smoke and sculpt. We both loved to smoke and just explore each others' bodies.

His body was so perfect. It was normal, you know? He wasn't an Adonis. But it was perfect to me. He was fit, had some muscle tone, a little bit of a belly, love handles... I loved his body. He had these dimples on his butt. He had a scar on his lower back and another on his stomach. He had three tattoos. One was a dragon on his back. One was a serpent around his bicep and down his forearm. The other was a flower, a rose, the most beautiful flower tatoo I'd ever seen, blood red with barbed wire around it, the thorns all dripped blood, and the petals had faces on each of them, beautiful female faces. It was amazing art. He said it represented me.

Sorry. I'm back. That made me cry again.

When the police came that night, I knew. I had worried, smoked, tried to calm down, but couldn't. I knew. I opened the door and just cried. 

And that was when it started. I just spiraled into darkness.

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24 September

Doctor Fox says I should talk about what I'm trying to recover from. Not where it started, necessarily. She said I've been through the start over and over, but that I need to address where I went, my journey, where I'm headed now. 

It went in the shitter. I think to explain it all, to have it make sense, you need to understand where Lex and I started and where we went.

I dated other guys in high school. Lex was my first kiss, but Johnny and I kissed a LOT, and he was the first guy to touch my bare breasts. Tom and his brother Jim were the first two to see me naked. I did a little strip show for them. I don't even know why I did it. They were watching and I just did it. They were cool about it. They clapped, made me feel good, and I didn't even hear about it around school later.

Lex was my first sexual partner. We were on again off again. He said he wanted me to experience more than just him, that I needed to know what lese was out there before just settling for him. I slept with a few guys in high school, a few more in college. I always came back to him. 

When we stopped fucking around and decided to just be together for real, we started experimenting. We just tried things we saw online, in porn videos. He wanted to try mutual masturbation, anal, 69, public sex, breath play, toys...just anything, really. We experimented. We didn't like everything, but we tried everything. 

He liked being behind me. I liked him there. Being taken from behind gave me a feeling I hadn't identified then, lack of control. I liked when he pinned my arms down to the bed or against a wall over my head. I liked when he wrapped his fingers in my hair and pulled my head back. I liked when he leaned forward and whispered in my ear all the dirty things he wanted to do to me, how dirty I was, how I was his, fir his pleasure, for his use. I liked feeling controlled, under his control, like he was in charge and I was there for his pleasure. Thinking that, feeling that, feeling objectified, used... it excited me. It gave me almost as much pleasure as the act itself.

We worked our way into a sort of BDSM type relationship without really knowing anything about the scene. I liked wearing a collar. I wore a choker out in public because it represented the collar I wore at home. We experimented with bondage, pain, denial, lots of control methods... I found a love of submissiveness. I felt like it was where I belonged. He made it safe to give my free will to him.

He wanted to watch me with others. We invited a friend of his over, discussed it, and made it happen. He loved watching me. He loved me blowing him while his friend fucked me from behind. He said he loved the look in my eyes, the loss of control he could see in there. I loved to see him, kiss him, blow him, while someone else was filling me, giving me pleasure. 

The truth was, I wanted to try more. I wanted to have three men at once. I wanted to be in a blowbang, a gangbang, I wanted to be the center of a sex circus. We tried it all. He didn't like the groups as much as I did. He liked sharing me with his friends, though. He liked having me be his slave girl around the house, when his friends were there. I had fun with it. I love to have guys look at me. I like to feel sexy.

It was all just... normal. There was nothing weird or deviant. We enjoyed what we were doing. It made us happy, our friends didn't judge, everything just worked.

But it was an intensely sexual relationship. INTENSELY. We were very physical all the time. I don't think we ever went more than a day without some sort of sex. This went on for years, even before the master/submissive thing.

So when he was suddenly gone, when the world was pulled out from under me, I had nothing to cling to, no one to turn to. There was the hole he left, but also the hole in my days, my activity, my... I don't know. Lust? I wanted. I wanted the feelings again. That was where I went dark. I tried to find something to replace him, to replace our thing. I was hungry for it, and I looked in all the wrong places.

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25 September

God, that crap yesterday sounds like I'm trying to write some kind of 50 Shades ripoff. It wasn't like that. He wasn't some seductive guy and I was all innocent and he lured me to the dark side. We were young. We were in love. We experimented.

The things he liked and the things I liked overlapped.

He liked to be in control - I liked to be controlled.
He liked me to wear sexy clothes - I loved wearing sexy clothes.
He liked to tie me up - I loved being tied up.
He liked to spank me - I liked being spanked.
He liked to gag me with his cock, holding my head with both hands in my hair, pushing so far into my throat that my eyes watered and I gagged, nearly retching, saliva pouring from my lips, dripping down my chest and onto my breasts as I tried desperately to hold out for breath, my eyes wide and staring up at him until he finally pulled out and left me coughing and gasping for air - yeah, I loved that. 

We complemented each other, but sometimes I think I was the naughtier out of the two of us. We liked the opposite ends of the same things, and we did those things almost every day, often several times a day.

After he was gone, I still... needed. I still wanted. I craved that kind of touch. 

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26 September

During our last year, we had included others in our play.

There was a girl we met, Arinda. She was just eighteen and danced at a local strip club. Lex liked watching us together, and liked using both of us. But as much as he liked that, he liked watching or sharing me with his friends more. He said he loved the look of my body with both my pussy and ass filled. He loved the expression on my face.

He said the look on my face when I was fucking more than one partner at a time was the ultimate expression of bliss. He described it as a sort of joyous ecstasy combined with surprise and pain, the kind of expression he knew meant I was in the exact place I wanted to be, and he was right. That was where I wanted to be. I couldn't describe the feeling to him, although he asked me what it was like so many times. 

That was what I sought after he was gone. That feeling. That sensation of... everything. The ultimate bliss. I went out and picked up guys, really just offered myself to them. His friends stopped by to check on me. I threw myself at them. Arinda visited. I tried to seduce her. It was all just this nonstop search for connection and happiness through sex.

I lost myself in there somewhere.

I became this parody of the strong woman I thought I was. I knew what I wanted, but I let the desire rule me instead of ruling it. I gave myself over to the search, to the desire, to the need. I thought I was strong and confident. I was just a joke, the easy girl, the cum dumpster, the dumb bitch any guy could fuck.

I lost friends. All of them, eventually.

I spent all day buttoned up in a professional costume at work pretending I was fine, locked in a bathroom stall crying through my entire lunch break trying to figure out what I was doing with my life, then back to work, pretending, just waiting for five o'clock so I could get home, change into my other costume, the dirty slut one, and get out into the bars or meet someone I setup after swiping right.

Tinder worked. Bars worked. Really, anyplace there were men worked. 

I never let them in my place, though. It was their place, back rooms, back seats, dark alleys, closed businesses, anywhere but my place. My place was like a sanctum. It was my safe space. 

And it was full of him.

I knew he could see me wherever I was, whoever I was with, and I knew he liked seeing me with other men. Some part of me said I was making him happy, happier when I was with two or three guys at once. But I know now that wasn't it.

I wanted that. Me. That was what I liked. I liked being used by more than one guy at a time. I liked knowing I was just there for their pleasure. If they tried to get close, I walked. I didn't want a boyfriend. I wanted cock, lots of it, and then my privacy when we were done.

I was like an addict. Loving it while it happened, guilty and filled with regret afterwards, then jumping right back in again for the short term thrill.

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27 September

I guess I'm writing this for Doctor Fox, although she says I'm writing it for me. She wanted to see what I wrote, and since I already told her all of this anyway, why not?

Hi, Doctor Fox! 

So she said I should pick a moment and dive into it. Explore it. A dark moment, a moment I loved, something specific, detailed, and personal. Something that might help me get into what happened in my mind to make me do the things I did. 

I don't know if it was my mind. I feel like my heart broke, my body craved, and my mind just went along for the ride. But she's the head shrinker, so I have to assume she knows what she's talking about.

A moment. I don't know which one to pick.

How about my first kiss?

It was Lex. Of course it was Lex. Back then I still called him Alex like everyone else. We met in grade school, but never really talked until middle school. He was the class clown, but still did well. He had a joke for everything. He was so confident and comfortable in his own skin. I envied him that.

I was quiet and shy. I was this tiny little girl who just had tiny little nubs for breasts. I kept my hair long and hid behind hair, glasses, and baggy clothes. I wanted to dress nicer, but my mom made me wear hand-me-downs from my overweight cousin, so everything was a bit too big and a lot too baggy. I guess it fit my poor self image. I didn't think I was a girl guys would like. I wanted them to, so badly, but... whatever. I was shy, let's just say that.

Alex was this... I don't know. Unattainable object? I didn't even know him, I just saw him. He was this guy I saw and secretly lusted after. He wasn't super hunky or great looking. He was like me: average. To me he wasn't. To me he was better than any movie star or rock star. But objectively he was just another guy at school.

I had always seen him. We shared classes on and off over the years, but we rode the same bus every day. He was always in the back, goofing around, being loud. I was up front, quiet, timid, trying to be the good girl and keep my head down.

But he saw me one day. I don't remember what his joke was, something stupid and inappropriate I'm sure, but it made me laugh. He turned and looked at me. I was all embarrassed and looked away, but then I looked back at him. He had this smile. It was sort of pride and amusement combined with wondering who this quiet girl was laughing at something so inappropriate and if she gets that she must know some things I didn't think she'd know and then all of a sudden our eyes met and it was... recognition? connection?

I don't know what it was, but for me it was electric. It was like when our eyes met that saying about them being the windows to the soul was suddenly true but only for the two of us and only in that one moment that stretched into eternity. I saw him. He saw me. It was electric.

It was also terribly embarrassing. I know I blushed. People saw. They made comments. I just stared at my desk for the rest of class. I rushed out of there so fast when the bell rang. I heard him behind me, calling my name. Izzy! Izzy! There was no way I was talking to him. I had crushed on him so hard for so long I had no idea what to say. There was no way I could face him after that look, that feeling, that blush.

I usually ate lunch with some friends. We were sort of a group of outcasts. I was the nerdy girl. Our main group was a nerd (me), an artist, a band geek, an almost popular girl, and a field hockey player. We had some other friends that were sort of on the periphery of our group, but we were the core. None of us fit in with the groups were came from, and somehow we had found each other. 

When I sat down at lunch that day, Alex was waiting for me. He was sitting with Jen, our almost popular friend talking, but his eyes had followed me all the way across the cafeteria to our table. I almost kept walking. He was super polite, still joking, still devil may care, but he was so nice to all of my friends, and even nicer to me.

I was blushing. I couldn't help it. I knew he was only there because of that look in class earlier. He finally got to it.

"Izzy," he said, getting my attention and the attention of all of my friends at the table. "I wanted to ask you something."

I was staring at him. My mouth was dry and words felt foreign in my mouth, but I managed to get out a nonchalant, "What's up?"

"Do you want to catch a movie sometime?"

"Sure," I said, as if I got asked out every day. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest I was sure everyone else could hear it. I nodded at something he said. I couldn't hear him over my own heartbeat and the blood rushing in my ears. He smiled and said something like, "it's a date. Pick you up after school Friday." I think it was something like that. Jen had to tell me the particulars later. 

I was ecstatic. I was petrified. I was going on a date with Alex Barclay.

I dressed up for him. A little black dress I borrowed from Jen, heels that I never wore, jewelry. Jen did my hair and makeup and I wore my new glasses, the ones I didn't like because you could see too much of my face. Jen called them my librarian glasses. I looked like that girl in every stupid teen movie who everyone says is ugly til they fix her hair and makeup and take off her glasses and all of a sudden she's a model. For the first time in my life I felt pretty.

Alex's reaction to me when he saw me made me feel beautiful. He didn't gawk, stare, or make comments about my outfit, shoes, hair or makeup. He just said, "you didn't have to dress up, it's just a movie. But I'm glad you did. You look the way I always imagined you would if we ever went out on a date. You're still the most beautiful girl I know."

I had no idea he ever thought of me at all. The date was more of the same. I was nervous and uncertain, he was confident and charming. He drove his dad's car, we saw a movie, grabbed dessert at a diner after, and then he asked if I wanted to park for a bit. Boy, did I.

We sat in the car, looking out at the moonlight on the lake. Everyone in town went to the lake. The druggies hung out up the hill at the tennis courts because they had time to see the cops coming. The popular kids walked out on the pier and along the shore. The rest of us sat in our cars in the parking lot overlooking a rocky beach.

We talked about the movie. About dessert. About I don't even really know what else because the whole time I kept wondering, "is he going to kiss me? Will he want to touch my boobs? Will he even be able to find my boobs? How much tongue should I use if he kisses me? Do you even use tongue? Was he just being nice? Why hasn't he kissed me? Did I say something wrong?" Just over and over and over. Then he said it.

"Can I... would you mind if I kissed you?"

I felt my shoulders and head hunch in, and I turned to look at him. He was so serious there in the moonlight. I just stared.

"I'm sorry. If you don't want to it's okay. We don't have to. I just thought... I mean, I wanted to... for a long time now. I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, Izzy. You're like this perfect girl and I've been too scared to ask you, but then when you looked at me last week in class, I saw something, and I hoped you might feel something too, and I had to know, so I asked, and you said yes, but now you have me all nervous and I'm never nervous but you're someone special and I don't want to mess this up because I think I really like you, like, a lot, and..."

"Yes," I told him. I nodded. He stopped talking. "Please."

He moved so slowly, like he was handling delicate china and was afraid to break it. I think that's what that moment was. It was exquisitely fragile, a porcelain fragment of time frozen in my memory. He moved so slowly toward me. Our lips moved closer, our eyes met. I looked at his lips. I wanted to kiss him so much. He moved toward me, and we both turned out heads the same way, then both corrected ourselves at the same time and leaned our heads the other way. Then he placed one fingertips softly on my chin to hold me still, turned his head slightly to the other side, and moved closer.

Our lips touched. My heart fluttered out of my chest and did some kind of acrobatics or ballet moves. Our lips pressed together. It lasted for a moment that lasted forever. His tongue touched my lips. I'd never kissed a guy like that before, but I just did what he did. My tongue moved, our tongues moved together, our lips moved, I think he only touched my face, one palm along my cheek. Our kiss was magic. I know everyone says that, but it changed everything for me.

When we finally moved apart for a moment, I giggled. 

"No, no," he said, looking nervous. "It's not supposed to be funny. Did I do something weird?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. "I just... I've wanted that to happen for a long time, too."

"Shut the front door."

"No, really. Since like... forever. I like you a lot, Alex. I'm really glad you asked me out."

He was grinning. A foolish, happy, idiotic grin. I'd see a lot more of those grins over the years.

"Me too," he said, then added, "can we kiss some more?"

I nodded, smiling. We did, too. A LOT of kissing. But that was all. He wasn't forward or aggressive in any way. We just kissed, held each other, moved closer, felt our bodies press together, and wanted so much more. But we stopped at kissing.

It was... amazing. I know that's a cliche. Everything about our first kiss is probably a cliche, but for me, that moment, that feeling, that mutual desire... that was marvelous. It is a moment I will never forget.

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28 September

I read yesterday's entry again, and I still get a warm feeling when I think about our first kiss. That was our first thing alone, just us, being honest and real and exploring together. Our whole relationship was basically that. Honesty, exploration, experimentation, embarrassment and laughter, joy and happiness, pleasure and comfort. We just clicked right away.

I'm supposed to write another moment, Doctor Fox said one on the other end of the spectrum. One good moment, one bad moment. I guess the bad ones all came after he was gone. I mean, sure there bad times with Lex. There were fights, sadness. We were both human. No one gets along all the time. But it was mostly forgettable stuff.

After, though. After, there were things I wish I could forget, things that are burned into my memory banks like a brand on a horse - ugly, scarring, and never going away. The marks of those dark moments will remain on my soul forever. I know that sounds melodramatic. It is a little bit, but it's also true.

There was one day. I don't know why this one sticks out to me. It was like every other day back then, except I stopped at this little corner bar for some reason instead of just going home and eating. I'd never been in there before. I think maybe someone had mentioned their food to me? I don't really remember. All I know is that I was driving, saw the sign, and turned to park in the small lot behind the building. 

I was still dressed for work in a pencil skirt, suit jacket, white blouse, black choker, and my four inch pumps. I still had my hair up and my glasses on. Usually when I went out I changed into clothing that advertised what I was after. I showed off my legs, my ass, and my tiny waist because I knew those were my best features. This was just me in work clothes. I never thought of them as sexy before.

I sat at the bar and ordered Lagavulin neat. I don't like scotch, but Lex drank it, and I always ordered it and made myself drink it all. It was sort of a homage to him. Everything I did then had something to do with him. There were a few guys at the bar. They were average looking guys, nothing special. They seemed surprised by my drink order and more surprised when I sipped it without making a face. 

There was small talk, flirty banter. I think one of them said something like, "I'm surprised she didn't choke and spit it out," to which I replied, "I have no gag reflex, and I don't spit."

The implication was there, the small talk was over. I had issued a challenge, and they picked up the gauntlet and met me halfway.

"Jake, we're going to use the party room," one of the guys said to the bartender.

"Just clean up this time," he said. "I'm not picking up your mess again."

They lead me into a back room. There were four guys and I wanted more. They didn't seem to know where to start. A couple of comments were made, but I knew why I was there. I knelt in front of two of them and worked at a belt. They watched me, helped out, and soon I was moving between two cocks, sucking, licking, deep throating. The other two guys were watching, which I loved, but they could be participating instead, which I loved even more.

I had to hike up my skirt with one hand while I stroked a cock with my other hand and worked another with my mouth. I exposed my garter belt and stockings and then my tiny panties, turning to look at one of the other guys over my shoulder. They got the hint. 

It was pretty much a gangbang. Two more of their friends came back and I didn't care. I was still mostly dressed in my work clothes, skirt hiked up over my hips, panties long gone, jacket and blouse unbuttoned exposing my breasts. My hair had fallen out of the up do and spilled down around my shoulders. They used it to tug my head from one cock to the next while I straddled another and another pushed into my ass from behind. I loved it. I felt like the center of the world, like all the attention was on me. In a way it was, but not a good way. Each of them took turns in my mouth, pussy and ass. They came in my ass, up my back, on my face and in my mouth. I didn't really care. 

A few of them came two or more times, and they seemed to have let in another couple guys. I was trying to keep track. It ended up being nine guys by the time the night was over. I was covered in cum. It was on my face, in my hair, on my clothes... there was no way I walked out of that bar without everyone in the front room knowing exactly what had just happened in the back room.

And that's when normal me returned. When I was straightening my jacket and blouse, tugging my skirt back down and smoothing it into place. I suddenly felt like work Izzy again. These were work clothes. I didn't fuck in work clothes. I felt guilt and shame. These were new to me. My two worlds didn't ever collide, but that day they did. 

I sneaked into the ladies room and did my best to clean up. I stared at myself in the mirror. Yes, I had wanted that. Yes, I enjoyed it. But was that who I was going to become? Some cheap backroom slut letting total strangers fuck her? What were the chances that I escaped that night without some kind of STD? My heart was racing, but I willed myself to calm down and walked out.

Everyone watched me. It was as quiet as I've ever heard a bar that was still open. I glanced once at Jake the bartender and he just stared. He looked... disappointed? I don't know how he could be. It's not like he knew me to have any expectations of me. But he still looked like I let him down. I got an ass slap on the way out. It made me jump, which made everyone laugh. 

Outside I sat in my car. I started it, but just stared out the windshield. Why had I done that? I'd never fucked total strangers before, never let that many men do whatever they wanted to me. I loved it. It was amazing, but I was having a panic attack now thinking about how dangerous it had been, how lucky I was to have got out of there without being hurt. That could have turned ugly so many different ways.

I think that moment was the first time I realized how little control I had over the desire. How easily I could just put myself in danger to satisfy my urges. It wasn't the last time I did stupid things for sexual gratification. 

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29 September

I think I hated myself. I know I didn't like myself. I didn't understand why I lived and he didn't. It didn't seem fair. I think part of me was working really hard on meeting back up with him again. The part of me that we all have, the part that needs to survive, that will do anything to live... that part was very quiet then. It only peeked out here and there. I just barreled headlong into self-destruction and depression.

During one of my bar encounters I met a sadist. It's the nicest way I can say that he liked to hurt women. He got off on it. Me, being in the place I was in... it was like we were made for each other. I didn't really like him. He was an asshole. He was possessive, violent, egotistical, and hateful.

The first time we were together, he was rough with me. He spanked me harder than I'd ever been spanked. It hurt a LOT. When he turned me around to look at me, the look in his eyes scared me. He looked like he wanted to kill me. He was so rough he was hurting me, my insides were raw, my legs and ass hurt from the way he was holding me. He looked down at me, hammering into me like his cock was a knife stabbing into my pussy, and he said, "show you, you fucking dirty cunt whorebag bitch fucker..." in this nonstop stream of profanity and insults, like he wasn't fucking and hurting me, but someone else, or perhaps all women through me. 

I said, "show me you fucker," like a dare, like he wasn't already showing me.

He slapped me hard across the face and said, "shut the fuck up, bitch." 

I should have been scared. I was, sort of, but... I was also excited. He was doing something that no one else had ever done. He was objectifying me in a way I'd never experienced. That kind of thing turned me on, and despite the look in his eyes, the cold fear coursing through my veins as his cock impaled me, I said, "make me."

He did. He slapped me, then choked me. He choked the shit out of me. I liked breath play, but this was something more. This was death play. He had both hands on my neck, and I was frightened, genuinely, fearing for my life. Both my hands were on his wrists, clawing at his fingers, I couldn't breathe, my eyes were watering. I wasn't into it anymore. He was just that much more excited. He pulled out of me, continued holding my throat as he moved up along my body, straddling my chest, then switched to a one-handed choke while he jerked off on my face. 

When he let go I was covered in cum and could barely breathe. I slapped at him trying to get him off. He was panting and laughing as he climbed off of me. I rolled on my side, threw up, gasped in more air. I could barely breathe through the snot, saliva, and vomit. I was disgusted and disgusting. I looked up at him and when I could finally speak, I yelled, "what the fuck?!"

He just laughed again. "You're good," he said. "Come back Saturday."

I was just staring at him. I'd never been that frightened, disgusted, and angry all at once. I wanted to say more, but he suddenly went serious. The laughter was gone, the smile was gone. All that was left was this stare that looked like he was going to kill me.

"Now clean this shit up," he said, motioning toward the floor, "and get the fuck out."

I don't know why I cleaned, but I did. I went home feeling like I'd been violated, like a total piece of shit. It hadn't just been objectification and humiliation. It had been outright degradation. I'd been devalued in my own mind by him. I literally felt like less of a human.

So of course, I went back Saturday. I don't know why I kept going back. He was an asshole, a giant piece of shit, but I saw him at least once a week for a few months. He just got more violent with every new visit. He never broke any bones or left any bruises where they could be seen, so somehow that made it okay in my mind. I can't explain why I went back. I dreaded seeing him. I think I even hated him. There was nothing good about him at all. 

The last time I went, he didn't answer. I rang and rang, but he never came to the door. His neighbor poked his head out, said he'd been arrested, cuffed and hauled away by the cops a couple days ago as he was getting out of his car.

I knew where his key was, so I let myself in. The place was pretty clean, like it always was. I looked around, touched all of his stuff, everything he used to tell me, "don't touch that you dumb bitch." I cooked myself dinner out of his fridge, frozen lasagna. I was angry at him for not being there, for not giving me what I needed, but the longer I spent in his house, the more I realized I was angry at him for the exact opposite reason.

I was made at him for giving me what I wanted, for making me want it more, for just being an asshole and taking advantage of me. Who treated another human like that without some aftercare or at least making sure they were okay after. This was supposed to be a game. It could get brutal, sure, but only when both parties agreed and it was consensual. He just... he hurt people. He was a fucker. I hated him.

As my lasagna cooked, I emptied his fridge and freezer onto the floor. I dumped all his bottles of booze and beer onto his couch. I think I smashed some stuff, too. I honestly don't remember. I sat at the little table in his kitchen and ate lasagna. I ate the whole hungry man portion or whatever it was. It was too much. I was too full.

I laid on his bed after dinner and masturbated. I remembered all the times he hurt me. I remembered him choking me, almost killing me. I remembered the slaps, smacks, punches to the stomach, all the needless pain for his enjoyment, not mine. I started to feel sick to my stomach just thinking about him. I couldn't climax, I thought I was having a panic attack, like fingering myself there and thinking about him was going to make him come in the door and hurt me again. I felt sick to my stomach.

I knelt on his bed, felling like I was going to throw up. Then I looked at his night stand. At that stupid clock I'd stared at so many times while he pinned me face down on the bed and fucked my ass until I bled. I hated that clock almost as much as I hated him. I stuck my finger down my throat and threw up on his mattress. It was disgusting, too much microwaved lasagna. I left it there, brushed my teeth, and went home.

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30 September

This whole exercise is pointless. I know what happened. I was there. I don't need to write it all down. It's literally zero help for me to relive all of this shit. I lost the love of my life and turned self-destructive in despair. I'm a fucking cliche. Yippee. I'm so glad I'm writing this down.

What I need is to figure out how to keep living. I crawled up out of the hole I dug. I don't want to die. I want to live. I just need to know how to do that now that I know that I still want to. I need to figure out how to be a person. It's like, when I dug this hole, when I tried to bury myself, there was stuff up here. Things, places, people... friends, family. Stuff that meant something. I finally got back out of the hole, but there's nothing left up here. It's all gone.

I'm gone.

I hurt so many people trying to hurt myself. I don't really even know who I am anymore. Everyone who used to know me doesn't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was before all of this.

So who am I? 

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1 October

After I wrote my journal entry yesterday I just sat and thought about everything. It was overwhelming and frustrating. I couldn't get my thoughts in order. I couldn't get anything straight. I sat in my shitty little apartment and stared out the window and had no idea what to do with myself, with my life. 

I have a good job. Somehow, through everything, I managed to keep my job. I don't know how I did it, or why they didn't see anything. Maybe they did, but apparently I held myself together enough to not get fired. I still managed to shower, put on a suit and do my hair, and you'd be surprised how much you can hide with makeup, bangs, and zero eye contact. Work was my reality anchor. It wasn't great, but it was the one constant in my life of shit. I'd need more anchors than just work though. 

For some reason I thought about my old friends, Lex's old friends. In every cliched movie about people falling on hard times, there's always a best friend there to offer support and comedic one-liners. I needed a best friend. But honestly, I never had a best friend other than Lex. Could I call up old high school friends? That seemed silly. College friends? They were really little more than acquaintances and drinking buddies. I never even had a roommate as I lived off campus the whole time with Lex. Who was I closest to?

I called Arinda. She was a few years younger than me. Lex and I met her when she was working at a strip club. She had come home with us one night, spent a lot more nights at our place. It was all very sexual, but her and I had hit it off. I felt like we'd made a connection. I got together with her a couple times after Lex died. She answered right away. We chatted. She was happy to hear from me, glad to hear that I was doing better. I asked what she'd been up to. She had moved out west last year. She said if I ever came out to L.A. I could crash at her place. It was nice conversation. It made me feel like a person with a friend, even if that friend couldn't be the best friend/confidant/deliverer of one-liners I needed. I needed someone who could hug me, be there at midnight when I was trying to keep myself from making bad decisions or falling back on old habits. I think I needed a keeper more than a friend.

I got in my car and drove. I drove past our old place. I drove past the old boathouse we used to hang out in with all of his friends. I drove past his friends' places. 

I was at Adam's door before I knew I had parked. Had I already rang the doorbell? Yes, because this gorgeous blonde was opening the door. Had Adam moved? She was polite but looked confused, not knowing who I was or why I was there. I must have presented quite the image at her front door, a tiny girl she didn't know in a short black skirt, leather biker jacket, high-heeled knee boots, a wild mass of dark hair blowing around my face and way too much makeup trying to hide days of crying.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I said, dropping right into my professional customer service voice. "Is Adam home?"

"Yes," she said automatically, and I could feel her wanting to retract her confirmation almost immediately. "Who are you?"

It was an innocent enough question, but there was suspicion behind it, an implication that whatever my purpose was in looking for Adam he was hers now and I no longer had any claim over him. If this was his girlfriend, I didn't doubt that she had already fended off a few ex's and probably assumed I was another. 

"Isabella Beaumont," I said. "Adam was friends with my fiance."

She just stared at me for a minute. I probably looked much more pathetic than I felt, because it didn't take her long to open the door and invite me in. She introduced herself as Mary, Adam's fiance.

Adam's place had been updated. It looked like Marie Kondo had come through and tossed all of his stuff and replaced it with framed pictures of landscapes and a few bird sculptures. I guess Mary had put her own touch on the decor. Apparently she put her touch on Adam, too.

When he came in he was in track pants and one of those moisture-wicking shirts you see at the gym. His hair was different and he had a beard now. He looked like someone else. He looked at me like I was someone else.

"Holy shit. Izzy." He sounded surprised. I guess he should have been. The last time we had seen each other wasn't exactly fun for either of us.

I just smiled. It felt weak, like everything else about me then. "Hey, Adam. Long time." 

"Yeah. Yeah it's been almost two years now, huh?" I could see in his eyes he was trying to figure out what I wanted, hoping I wasn't still looking for what I wanted last time I saw him. "You met my fiance, Mary?" He put his arm around her. It looked more like he was using her as a shield than introducing us. 

"We met," I said. I smiled at her. I was making them both uncomfortable. What must I look like to make then seem so unsettled around me.

"Mary, this is Izzy. Lex's girl. I told you about her." Her eyes seemed to widen for the briefest second. Her expression said that she knew more about me than I did about her. I wondered how much Adam had told her. I read pity, contempt, and a healthy dose of bitch-better-not-touch-my-man in her eyes. He had told her enough.

"Yeah," I said. "Lex's girl." What was I doing there? What did I think Adam was going to give me? Friendship? I mean, sure, we'd known each other since high school, but he had seen me... God. Seen me naked was the least of what he'd seen. He had me in every way a man can have a woman. He had seen me degrade myself in front of a room full of men. Saw me in the middle of a blowbang, five guys at once, being used, covered in a mess, my own little bukkake moment. He used me then. How did I look to him now? Could he see the woman sitting on his couch, or did he just see a cum dumpster? I was nervous. I shouldn't be here. 

There was a moment of silence. Everyone looked ready to say something, but no one did.

"Adam," I said, wanting to keep things from going sideways. "I just stopped by to thank you."

He stared silently, partly surprised, partly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mary's expression was similar, though more intrigued thank scared.

"The last time we talked, I was in a bad place." I looked at Mary and by way of explanation said, "my fiance had died unexpectedly. Car accident. I didn't take it well." I looked back at Adam.

"I made some inappropriate suggestions. I'm sorry about that. I was just... I wasn't thinking clearly then. You were a good friend. You told me you wouldn't take advantage of me in my state." I didn't mention how many times he had taken advantage of me in my state before that last time. It was a lot. He had no problem fucking his dead friends' girl, or doing any of the weird stuff.

"You told me I needed professional help. You were right. I said some terrible things to you, and I'm sorry about that, too. I wasn't myself. It took me a while, but I did get help. I'm doing a lot better, now, and..."

They both looked like I was speaking Swahili or something.

"I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being a friend. Thank you for telling me to get help, and thank you for not taking advantage of a girl at her lowest. I know I didn't listen to you right away, but I did, eventually. I don't know if I'd be here today if everyone had given in to men back then. Thanks for being my friend, and thanks for giving me good advice."

It wasn't what I had wanted to say. I had wanted to talk about Lex, find a friend who had been there, who would understand, reminisce, be a shoulder to lean on. I probably also hoped to get laid, if I'm being honest with myself. I wasn't there to ask him to do weird domination shit like last time. I wasn't going to just go down on him. I mean, I don't think I was. It wasn't the plan. I would have probably, but the whole fiance thing had flustered me. 

He shook his head like he was trying to clear it, the look on his face softening. "I mean, you know... I just wanted you to get better."

Sure you did, Adam. You just wanted to fuck me on your schedule instead of mine. You didn't want a demanding booty call, you wanted someone you could drop in on and fuck whenever you wanted. I asked for too much. But I didn't say any of that.

"I know," I said. "I didn't know it then, but I do now." I looked at Mary. "I'm sorry to barge into your home like this. I should have just called. I just wanted to say thank you face to face."

I smiled at her, and it was oddly genuine. She seemed nice, and he seemed happy. He was an ordinary guy, a bit of a player, but basically a good guy. 

I stood up. "I should be going. I'm sorry to interrupt your day."

"No, it's okay," said Adam. "It was really good to see you. I'm glad you're doing better."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" It was the only thing Mary had said since Adam and I had set eyes on each other. I absolutely did not want to stay for dinner. I wasn't going to find what I needed here, and given enough time one or both of us were going to say something that would ruin Mary's day.

"I'd love to," I said, lying, "but I'm meeting another old friend for dinner."

I gave Adam a hug. It was the most platonic touch he'd had from me since high school. He froze up a little, as if little five foot three inch me could somehow hurt all six feet two inches of him. It was kind of funny. I stepped back, then took Mary's hand and met her eyes.

"Congratulations on your engagement. You've got a good guy here." I smiled, again, genuinely. She was me without the weird sex needs. Just another woman trying to be happy. I hoped it would work out for them. "Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

I turned to head for the door. Adam rushed to open it for me, Mary close behind. My entire visit had made them both uncomfortable. I think my entire existence made them both uncomfortable.

"It was really good to see you, Iz," he said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't know what to say. "Keep in touch, okay?"

"Sure," I said. I wouldn't though. "It was great seeing you again. Nice to meet you," I added to Mary.

"Nice to meet you, too," she said with a smile and wave.

Adam stood by the open door, watching as I got in my car and drove away. It felt like he was making sure I left and didn't come back. I wasn't an old friend to him. I was an explosive someone had dropped in his lap that he was just happy didn't go off. He didn't want to stay in touch. In his mind, I was probably buried right next to Lex. A memory, a story about that crazy girl, something to shake your head or laugh about. 

I wonder if that's all I am to Reggie and Trong, too. Lex's other two friends from high school, the ones he'd shared me with most often, were really some of the only people I'd known in my adult life. Do they all think of me the same? Have I really lost the only friends I ever had? I don't know if I can handle another face to face like this one.

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2 October

I didn't have the energy to stop and see Reggie or Trong. I wanted to see them. After seeing Adam I feel like I need to at least apologize to them, too. But I just couldn't. It was too much.

I decided to call Bree, a friend I hadn't spoken to in a long time. There were... reasons.

Bree and I had met when we were both in college and Lex and I were on one of his "you need to date other guys and have more experiences" breaks. We didn't go to the same school; she was a nursing student, I was a library sciences major at a different school. But we kept running into each other at the same concerts, bars, and volunteering at the same charity events. Eventually we realized that we had more in common with each other than we did with any of our other friends. She was this super cute, bubbly redhead with a runner's figure and breasts two sizes too large for her tiny frame. We chatted a few times, just small talk really.

The first time was sharing pizza after volunteering to cleanup after a charity 10k run. Then the very next night I ran into her at a Flogging Molly concert. It was a weird coincidence, but nothing noteworthy. Over the next few weeks, we saw each other at two more music venues for small local bands, a wine tasting event, a restaurant soft opening where you had to know the owners to get in, and a book signing for a fantasy novel that literally none of my friends read had us joking about the coincidences.

Less than a month after we first met, she was in my laundromat at the same time as me on a Saturday afternoon. We joked about stalking each other and the more we chatted, the more we realized how much we had in common. I really enjoyed her company. I asked her if she wanted to grab a bite to eat, and it turned into dinner together and drinks all night. If I didn't know I was straight, I would have thought I was falling for her.

I saw her almost every day after that, unplanned, just running into each other in each of our favorite spots. We had the same favorite Mediterranean restaurant and both went on the same night. We worked out at the same gym, probably because of the student discount. I saw her on the roof of the planetarium star gazing. Literally everything I did that week, she was doing the same thing.

Friday night I was at my favorite coffee shop. It was off campus, there were few students, and it was quiet and private. I was in my favorite little two seat nook where I liked to read, study, or just sit quietly. It was a perfect little alcove sort of around a corner where no one could see you. I was on the bench that curved around the back of the tiny space, feet up, reading a fantasy book when a shadow fell over me and I heard her voice.

"Are you kidding me? Here, too?" Bree was standing there with a backpack on her shoulder, her phone in one hand, and a coffee in the other.

I couldn't help but laugh. I scooted over and patted the bench beside me. 

"I don't want to bother you while you're reading," she said. "I was just going to sit and enjoy some quiet reading, too, and..." she just trailed off, and I lowered my book slowly.

"Everything okay?" I asked. She just pointed at my book and set down her phone and coffee. She slung her backpack off her shoulder, opened it, and produced the exact same book that I was reading, Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey.

It was probably one coincidence too many for both of us, but I played it off. "Well that makes perfect sense," I said.

I pulled her down to the bench beside me and slid her coffee in front of her, then went back to reading. She shook her head, laughed, then settled in and started reading, too. We sat there together, reading silently next to each other, and it was... comfortable? I don't know. I felt like I was in a place I belonged. I didn't get that feeling around other people very often. Never, in fact, aside from when I was with Lex. When I ran out of coffee and decided to get more, I realized that we had at some point snuggled close to each other.

We were practically laying on each other. My head was on her chest and both of her legs were draped over mine as we were reclined across most of the small, curved bench. I wanted to get up, but I didn't want to disturb her, and... and I liked laying beside her. I liked it a lot. I wanted to stay there. No, that's not even true. I wanted to be at home with her, laying together, snuggled close while we read and drifted off to sleep beside each other. I wanted to wake up and have her beside me, disentangle myself from her arms and legs to get up and go make coffee, and... 

Whoa. I remember thinking that, like I was Keanu Reeves in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. "Whoa." It was a moment for me. I'd never felt like this about anyone but Lex. I'd been attracted to guys before, I'd liked hanging out with people, made good friends, wanted to hang out with people, but... this feeling. What should I do? Why did I feel that way? Part of me wanted to jump up and move to the other side of the bench and part of me wanted to just close my eyes and enjoy this feeling for as long as it lasted.

I smiled as I laid my head back down on her chest and stared off into the distance. I wasn't reading anymore, just snuggling close to her. I could feel the smile on my face, and I just let it be. It was a perfect moment. Everything was perfect.

One of the baristas, a pierced girl with too much eyeliner and dyed black hair that hung over half her face was, cleaning up and stopped near our table. "I hope I'm not bothering you," she said, "but I saw you two while I was cleaning over there, and I just wanted to tell you that you make the most adorable couple." She smiled and blushed and continued on with her duties.

I think I said thanks out of habit.

I could sense the tension in Bree as soon as the girl said that. I felt myself tense, too. Books were set down, bodies moved, Bree was blushing furiously. I think I might have been, too. We looked at each other, and I know my expression must have been a jumble of confused emotion, because I honestly could not tell you what I was feeling at that moment. Bree looked scared more than anything else.

I can't write any more of this right now. I need to take a walk.

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2 October, cont'd

After the waitress said we made a cute a couple, things were weird. I remember it was like someone had called us out on a month of pretending we weren't falling for each other. The first few weeks, sure, we were just discovering coincidences. But ever since the night after the laundromat, it should have been clear to both of us. I think we both knew, but we were just enjoying our time together too much to think about it.

"I should probably go," I said. It was the worst thing to say. I don't know why I said it. I didn't want to go. But then, I did want to be away from this situation, this uncomfortable moment.

Bree nodded, looking to the floor.

I started packing my bag, dropping my book and phone into my over-sized purse. I grabbed my coffee and moved forward to stand, but Bree's hand was on mine.

"Wait," she said. 

I looked at her. Her expression was... I don't know what. I waited.

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling her hand back. "I got too comfortable. I didn't mean to make you feel weird."

"No, no," I said. "It wasn't weird. It was the opposite of weird. I was very, very comfortable."

"Me, too."

"I just don't want to send the wrong signals."

She looked at me then. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, the hurt I had done by insinuating that the signals we both felt were wrong. I was telling her I was straight, and I wasn't interested in her in that way. The worst thing was, I was saying it out of uncertainty and fear of the unknown, not because I didn't want it. I did want it. I just didn't know how to process that I wanted it. I was out of my comfort zone by miles.

"Oh." She looked at me, disappointment on her face as understanding dawned. "I misread things. Oh, God, I'm sorry. I thought you... I thought we..."

"No, don't be sorry. I..." I didn't know what to say. "I really like hanging out with you." That was stupid. Try again. "I've never enjoyed hanging out with someone so much." Better, but not quite as far as I should go if I was being honest.

A confused look passed over her face. "So wait, are you... do you like...?"

"I've never dated another girl."

She stared. I didn't say I wouldn't, just that I hadn't. 

"I only go out with girls," she said.

"That's not an issue for me," I said. 

She smiled then and seemed to relax. "Well at least you're not running for the hills. I guess that's something. There are so many people who can't handle it."

I smiled, too. I loved her smile. It was infectious. 

"I like you," she said.

"I like you, too." I smiled at her.

"No, I mean, I like you, like you." She reached out at took my hand again. "I'm into you."

I stared wordlessly.

"I just wanted to tell you," she said. "I needed to tell you. It doesn't have to be a thing. You don't need to say anything back. I'm totally cool with just being friends. I really, really enjoy spending time with you. You're one of the coolest people I've ever met."

"No, we don't have to just be... I mean." I felt my cheeks flush. "I don't want to rule it out. I also don't want to lead you on. This is all new to me."

"Then let's just be friends," she said. "No pressure, no need to ever bring it up again. If you ever want to talk about more, we'll discuss it then."

"Friends," I said, my smile wide. It stayed there for a minute, then slowly faded. I had a thought, and vocalized it before thinking. "I've never felt this way about a friend."
She nodded. "Me either."

"Should we maybe, grab dinner? Go back to my place and talk about it some more? Or not talk about it and just hang out?"

"We should definitely grab dinner," she said.

We got Chinese food and headed back to my place. Dinner was delicious, and I popped in The Princess Bride at her request. We both knew almost every line of by heart. Afterwards we just kept talking, laughing, and enjoying each others' company. If this had been a date, I probably would have expected her to put the moves on me by now, but true to her word, she kept things in friend zone.

I was riding the buzz of our connection. Everything clicked. There was nothing awkward, nothing forced, just the closeness of best friends, the elated excitement of every single thing clicking into place, that euphoric feeling you get when you feel like you've met your perfect match. I was intoxicated by her presence, and I let it go to my head.

She had just come back from the kitchen with new drinks. I took mine and, without breaking eye contact, set it on the coffee table. Then I set hers on the coffee table. I stared into her eyes. She had frozen in place. We hadn't been drinking anything alcoholic. I wasn't drunk. I was in full control of my faculties. I stared into her eyes and moved so close that I could feel her breath.

"Izzy," she said quietly, as if afraid of breaking whatever spell had come over me. "What are you doing?"

I felt myself flush. I'm not proactive. I'm not the one to make a move, ever. But after everything, with the way I was feeling, I knew. I just knew. "I'm into you," I said.

Her face flashed a quick half smile, but it vanished again as doubt crept back in. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "I know what I feel."

She smiled again, longer this time. She was blushing, too. "It's almost overwhelming," she said, Her fingertips found my hand while we stared at each other.

"It's so strong." I let my fingers move along hers. "I can't pretend it's not there."

She was closed now, though I didn't remember either of us moving. We both leaned closer at the same time until our lips were millimeters apart, but neither of us closed the distance. It was that moment right before your first kiss, that pause filled with expectation, excitement, a tingle of fear, and we were drawing it out as long as possible. My whole body was warm, my heart was thudding in my chest, and every fiber of my being was focused on the moment that was about to happen, focused on her lips, our kiss, the inevitable...

The door swung open with a jangle of keys, and Lex stood in the doorway to our left. We both jumped as if there had been a gunshot. There was more space between us, and our hands were no longer touching. Lex stared at us. Bree looked at Lex, then at me. I looked at Lex. No one said a word for what felt like an eternity.

"Damn," said Lex. "If I came home fifteen minutes later you two woulda been naked, huh?"

Bree looked from me to Lex and back again. I hadn't mentioned Lex during any of our previous conversations. 

"Bree," I said, still staring at Lex. "This is Lex." I made a gesture toward him. "Lex, this is Bree."

Lex was grinning in a friendly manner. "Nice to meet you, Bree. Sorry to interrupt. I'm off to bed. You two carry on." And with that, he headed back into the bedroom.

Bree turned to me. "You never said you had a roommate." 

"I didn't expect him home tonight. He usually drinks too much and crashes at his buddy's place."

"Are you two...?"

"No!" I was super defensive and answered too quickly and too loudly. "I mean, we were, yeah. We were together. We're not now."

Lex's arrival had shaken Bree. The mood was gone. She could tell something was off. How was I supposed to explain this? We were on a break so I could explore, gain experience, date other guys. According to Lex, he didn't want me to get into middle age and feel like I'd missed out on dating. I didn't want to get out and date, so I didn't. I just did my own thing until he thought I'd had enough time and we would end up together again.

But if I said all that, she'd think she was my breakup fling. She'd think I orchestrated this whole thing to be with her as some kind of conquest while we were broken up, or to make him jealous, or to get her to join us, or... hell, I didn't know what she'd think, but I knew it wouldn't be close to the truth. The truth was, our meeting was exactly what it seemed: coincidental, fortuitous, and amazing. 

"I'm sorry," she said, with a little laugh. "I think the spell's been broken."

It had, but I nervously wanted to force it, because I'd taken the risk, put myself out there in a new situation, and I wanted to be with her so badly, even just to kiss her once. Honestly, I thought that if we didn't kiss then, we never would. I knew I'd never build up the courage to instigate it again. 

"No," I said, almost pleading, disappointment in my voice. "No, we can get it back. We can..."

Bree smiled at me. It was cute and uplifting and sad all at the same time. "It's okay, Izzy. I think we were moving too fast, anyway. I just get so caught up in you. It's like you disconnect my brain and I'm just operating on feelings."

"What's wrong with that?" I asked. 

"That's how you get hurt," she said, her voice quiet. The look on her face said it wouldn't have been the first time if I'd hurt her.

She was so much like me, so careful, needing to analyze and think things through before acting. I wasn't impulsive like this. I was careful, too, but with her, just this once, I wanted to throw caution to the wind, I wanted to risk being hurt, I wanted to risk everything because of the way she made me feel. I couldn't say any of that to her, though. I just stood silently hoping something would change her mind.

"It's late," she said. "I'm going to head home."

"You could stay," I said.

She stopped and turned to face me. I couldn't decipher her expression. 

"We don't need to rush this," she said. "If it's real, it will still be real tomorrow."

She turned and walked to the door, picking up her purse on the way. I followed her, opened the door for her, and tried to think of something to say to recapture the moment. She turned as she crossed the threshold and faced me. We looked at each other in silence.

"I'm sorry," I said. I don't even know what I was sorry for, but I felt like I needed to apologize.

"For what?" She seemed confused.

"Not mentioning Lex. Ruining a perfect evening. I don't know. Everything."

She smiled then, wide and honest. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It was a perfect evening, and it wasn't ruined. It was just... postponed." She leaned forward and hugged me. We kept it as platonic as two friends that hadn't just confessed their mutual attraction, and then she was gone.

I still remember watching her walk down the steps like it was yesterday. I felt like I'd missed an opportunity, like we wouldn't get to pickup where we left off. 

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03 October

After writing about Bree yesterday, I was too nervous to call her. Things ended poorly. Technically we're still friends, but... things happened. We missed our window of opportunity.

I was honest with her about my relationship with Lex. I told her that we were on a break that he wanted me to take, that I was supposed to experience more guys so I never felt like I missed out. I know she suspected that I was using her as an experience. I would have thought the same thing.

I explained it to her as best I could. That I had never had any intention of dating other guys, much less women, and that I accepted the intermittent break-ups because Lex insisted. I was content in my relationship with him, but already fairly submissive to him. We talked about the dynamic of my relationship to Lex. It turned out Bree was also very reactive rather than proactive, to the point where she often left a potential relationship unexplored because she didn't have the assertive nature to go after what she wanted. It was probably why we spent so long dancing around our mutual attraction without really saying anything to each other.

It boiled down to this. Bree wanted a girlfriend. She wanted someone she could hang out with like we did, enjoy her time every day, and share an intimate relationship. I was only waiting until Lex thought I'd dated or slept with enough other men to take me back. I wasn't really available, despite how I felt about her. She wanted the whole package, or nothing at all.

We continued hanging out almost daily, but the bubble had been burst. The truth of how we felt was out there, and it cast a shadow over all those little flirty moments that used to be so endearing and exciting. The things that used to make my heart sing now made it feel heavy in my chest. WE spent less and less time together.

Eventually Lex decided I'd had enough other penises inside me to say I'd experienced other guys and we were back together. A few weeks later, we had a party and Bree stopped came. This was before we were really into the dominant/submissive stuff. We had experimented with inviting a third to join us sometimes, and as the night wound down it ended up just Lex, Bree, and me. I was drunk. I was really, really drunk. I've never been much of a drinker, and I had enough that night to push me over the edge. I should have just taken two aspirin with a full glass of water and went to bed. But no. I had to hang out with my friend.

Lex made the suggestion. Part of me knew it was coming, but we hadn't discussed it. I had told Lex about Bree, about what happened, that she only dated women. He just put it out there. He'd love to see the two of us together. I know I blushed, and my head swam thinking of the possibility, also from all the drinks. From the look of it, Bree had had too much, too. She looked hesitant, but when she looked at me she smiled, and agreed. Lex said he'd participate in any way we wanted. He'd just watch, or he could be hands on, or other parts on, or in... depending on what we wanted. 

I remember staring at Bree in those cutoff shorts and that tight t-shirt over her too large breasts. She had kicked off her sandals and was barefoot. I stared at her legs, so long, thin yet muscular, perfectly shaped... I wanted to be between them so badly. My nerves were making me feel funny, and combined with the alcohol, I was pretty off kilter. I watched Bree as she stood and made direct eye contact with me.

Lex was sitting in his chair, Bree was standing between him and me, and I was lounging back against the far end of the couch from Lex. She started to pull off her shirt up over her head, and apparently had more to drink than I thought because she lost her balance and stumbled backwards. Lex caught her around the waist and steadied her. A moment later, he fell back into his chair as she leaned back into him, sitting in his lap as they both landed. Lex moved as if he were going to try to help her up, but she leaned back into him and let out a little moan of excitement. She was in just a bra and those cut off shorts. Lex's hands were on her hips. She ground back against him, and I saw that smile slowly spread across his face as his hands moved up to her breasts. I wished I had breasts that large.

He cupped her breasts and her eyes closed as she leaned back against him. He massaged her breasts, his hands slow and sensual, fingertips grazing her nipples and she jut leaned against him and gave him access to her body. I wanted that access. I stared and tried to get up off the couch but stupid alcohol had other plans for me, mostly me staying on the couch. I watched as she got this playful, flirty smile on her face and reached one hand back to slide down between their bodies. When she did, he moved a hand between her legs, the other still moving over her breast, teasing her nipple. She was grinding back against him, he was pressing up against her, they were practically fucking already with their clothes still on, and I was stuck laying back on the couch for some reason struggling to get up. Despite my excitement, I was so much more drunk than I thought. I tried to sit up and fell back on the couch. My vision was blurring and I felt like I was going to pass out.

I remember feeling like I was being cheated, but somehow thinking that laying back down was the best thing to do. I watched as the two of them really got into it, and my fingers started doing their own thing up under my skirt. My legs were up on the couch giving them a full view right up my skirt, and it seemed to encourage both of them. The next thing I knew, her bra was off and her amazing breasts were bouncing just out of reach. Her cut off shorts were open and Lex's hand was buried inside. She was moaning, one hand working his length behind her back, and I was out of it on the couch, barely even watching due to the alcoholic fogginess clouding my senses.

I could feel consciousness fading away and my blinks seemed to last longer and longer. Every time I opened my eyes again, it was to an image of the two of them that much closer to just fucking right in front of me. Next thing I knew, she was standing, then her shorts were off. Then he was standing up behind her, then he was taking her from behind. I saw the look on her face as he slid inside of her, this combination of surprise, fear, excitement, and pleasure. Holy shit that was hot. For a girl who only dated other women, she was way more into it than I expected. She was staring at me.I think I smiled? I don't know, because I was so drunk I was passing out. And then she was on me.

Her arms wrapped under my thighs, her hands reached up and clamped onto my hips and she pulled herself between my legs. She had her mouth on my fingers where I played and then her tongue found its way to my folds. I dug my fingers into her gorgeous red hair. I felt her mouth on me, pressing harder with every thrust Lex gave her from behind. It felt good, so good, but my senses seemed dulled. I really don't remember a lot of it. It wasn't the way I imagined it at all. I didn't even imagine Lex being there. It was supposed to be me and Bree, just the two of us, slow, gentle, loving... 

I vaguely remember her lifting her head and looking concerned, then Lex leaning over me, and Bree crying. I don't know what was real or dreamed. I thought I heard her apologizing and then the door closed. My eyes must have been closed, but I know I heard something. The next thing I heard was Lex whispering in my ear as he lifted me off of the couch and carried me to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry, babygirl. I know you really like her. I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't know you were this bad off."

I woke up the next morning in my own bed. Someone was running a jackhammer and an Indy car race in my head at the same time. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but it was so bright. I immediately thought of Bree. I looked in the bed beside me. Where was she? I tried to remember. All I could see was her sitting on Lex's lap, stroking him behind her back while he played with her breasts. Then I saw her standing, Lex behind her, sliding inside of her while his hands held her hips. What had happened after that?

She had been between my legs. I tried to remember, but it was vague. Then there had been crying and apologies. I was sitting up now, but I didn't know what had happened. 

Lex brought me aspirin, water, and coffee. He filled in the blank spots in my memory. I had passed out while Bree was eating me out. She got worried and wanted to stop. Lex stopped. They checked on me, and I guess I kept saying some weird shit about the two of them being together, being better than with me, real depressoid bullshit. She had left crying, Lex said because she had only done what she did to be with me and then couldn't be with me.

I tried to call her, but she didn't answer. We finally talked a couple days later. She was very quiet. She said she was sorry. She couldn't see me anymore. She couldn't be with a guy just to be with me. I told her it didn't have to be that way, that we could be together, but she asked about Lex. She was right, of course. Lex and I were together. It was my turn to apologize. I hadn't expected things to go the way they did. 

So we stopped hanging out together. We wanted to stay friends, but it was too hard for Bree to see someone she wanted all the time but not be able to have me. I told her she could have me any time, but she said she didn't want me and Lex. She wanted me. I told her Lex would let us be together without even being there, but she got more upset. She didn't want part of me, she wanted all of me. She wanted me all to herself, no sharing, no half of my heart while someone else held the other half. I tried to explain that my heart was big enough to love both of them completely, but we obviously had incompatible ideas of what made a loving relationship.

That was the end of it.

And she's who I thought of to call now that I'm trying to get back to being me. I mean, it makes sense, but... Now. Now that Lex is gone. Now that I've fucked my way through half the city in some sort of self-destructive deathwish sexcapade. Now I'm going to call Bree to be my friend. To be a shoulder to cry on.

Am I incredibly selfish, incredibly stupid, or both? 


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4 October

I called Bree yesterday. She was surprised to hear from me, to say the least. It had been almost three years since the last time we talked. We spent an awkward ten minutes on the phone trying to feel each other out and finally decided to meet up for coffee at the new place that had taken over our old favorite place.

The first thing I'd noticed was that my favorite nook was gone. The whole wall there had been leveled and a stage had been erected just behind where I used to sit. The tables were all homogeneous and boring; no more cool, unique seating options. I got a latte and sat at a table near where our nook used to be and waited for Bree.

I had agonized over what to wear for almost an hour before I finally settled on my usual these days: short skirt, knee high boots, corset style top, my leather biker jacket, and the black choker I always wore. I went easy on the makeup, and left my hair down where it made a sort of wild, dark mane around my face and shoulders. I should have tied it back. It kept falling in front of my left eye and I had to keep tucking it behind my ear.

When Bree came in I felt a pang in my chest. I don't know how else to describe it. She looked amazing, better than ever, and it was like seeing her made something I had forgotten about wake up. Memories flooded back into me, little snippets of our time together, images of her smile, of her hand on mine, feeling her hair on my shoulder as we snuggled together, feeling the warmth of her body next to mine, the sound of her laughter, the smell of that lavender body wash she used...

I smelled it as she approached the table. She still used the same body wash. She still looked the same. She was gorgeous. She was dressed casual in jeans, boots, and a puffy winter jacket zipped up to her neck. Her hair was still long and straight, and she wore it in a ponytail. 

We smiled at each other as I stood and we hugged. It was a longer hug than I think either of us expected. I inhaled her scent, my nose in her hair, my hands around her back, leaning in so we didn't touch too much of our bodies together.

She said quietly into my ear, "It's really good to see you, Izzy."

I felt a tear about to fall and replied, "I missed you so much."

When we separated from the hug, I could see that she had nearly cried as well. We looked at each other, looked away, looked back at each other, and laughed.

"I really did miss you," I said. 

"Me, too." She smiled wide and laughed again. "So much."

We sat and chatted, catching up. She had finished school and was working as a nurse at a medical center. She had just moved to a new apartment not too far from where I used to live with Lex. 

I told her about the accident, that Lex was gone, about my self-destructive phase, about trying to get my shit together, and how I had been trying to find a friend that I didn't totally screw over who might still give a shit about me.

"Oh, God, Izzy. I'm so sorry," she said, and put her hand on mine. "That must have been so horrible. I can't even imagine what it was like. You didn't have anyone the whole time? God, I wish you'd come to me sooner. Emilia is a psychologist, she's wonderful to talk to, you could have been safe at our place instead of out there risking your life."


"My girlfriend."

"Oh." I knew I sounded disappointed. I tried to cover as quickly as possible. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were with someone." I tried to keep the hint of jealousy out of my voice, but after seeing Bree again and having my feelings for her resurface far more strongly than I expected they ever could, a girlfriend wasn't what I had expected.

"We've been together almost two years." Bree smiled, her hand still on mine. "She's... she's amazing. You'd like her."

"You two are happy together?" I tried to focus on the positive.

"So happy," said Bree, her smile wide. Then she perked up and sat up straight. "You should meet her."

Yeah, that wasn't what I wanted to do at all. The more Bree described Emilia, the more wonderful she sounded. She was the perfect girlfriend, she made Bree happy, and she was polyamorous. Regardless of the potential new friendship, I was not ready to meet Bree's girlfriend. But Bree had become a little more insistent, a little more aggressive, and that night I was at their apartment for dinner.

Emilia was pretty much perfect. She was gorgeous, had perfect hair, and had an amazing body with curves that would put impure thoughts in anyone's head. She was funny and polite and utterly flawless and I both hated her and wanted to spend all my time in her presence. After dinner, which Emilia had cooked and was delicious, we were talking in the living room. I knew she was feeling me out, trying to get into my head and discern my motivation for contacting Bree again, but I felt like were were just enjoying good conversation. After small talk, and then sharing some personal and intimate details from our lives, Emilia looked straight at me and dropped the bomb.

She knew about that night, the night Bree and Lex had been together and I was basically juts present. She knew Bree hadn't really wanted to be with Lex, but did it because she wanted to be with me. The more she talked, the more I felt like she was accusing me of setting Bree up for Lex.

Naturally I got angry. That wasn't what had happened. I started to explain it all to her. She countered everything I said with pointed questions. I felt as if I were being cross-examined on  witness stand. After she point blank asked me if Lex had asked me to setup Bree for him I blew up. I got angrier, louder, and started crying. I defended Lex, myself, even Bree. I over-explained everything, I wanted to shut this woman up, but then I stopped myself. Why should I bother? What was the point? If Emilia thought that, then Bree must have painted it that way, and if she presented it to Emilia that way, then Bree must still think that's what happened. I felt attacked, like dinner had been a setup to get me here to answer for my crimes or something. 

This wasn't why I had looked up my old friend at all. I was crying when I asked Bree if that's what she thought really happened, if she really thought I was the kind of person who would do that. She was crying, too. I looked at Emilia, sitting there in her chair like she was the queen, or a lawyer, or judge jury and executioner. Bree was shaking her head, but hadn't said anything.

I ignored Emilia. I moved in front of Bree. I asked her to look at me, please, please just look in my eyes and tell me if that's what she thought of me, because if it was then there was no way we could get back from wherever this was that we'd ended up. I waited. She finally met my eyes. She stared at me, I looked at her. 

We had connected. I know we had. It was still there. I could feel it. I let her remember. I didn't say anything, just asked her to please be honest and not worry about hurting my feelings. I needed her to be totally, brutally honest with me right now.

She shook her head and finally said no. That wasn't the me she knew. There was no way I could have done what she thought I'd done. I could feel the tension drain from my shoulders and neck and I hugged her tight. Emilia cleared her throat. I ignored her.

Finally though, I had to let go. I looked at Emilia then, and she was crying, too. I didn't understand. I was so close to just leaving, but Bree and Emilia both asked me to please stay and talk more, no more accusations. 

It turned out that Bree and I were even more similar than either of us thought. Neither of us had ever been very dominant, and we preferred someone else to take the reins in a relationship. Emilia was the control end of the power dynamic of their relationship. She hadn't understood how Bree could love me so much when I'd so obviously set her up. Afterwards she was convinced that Bree hand't been making excuses for me and that both Bree and I were telling the truth about that night.

So we hung out. It was... weird. I wondered if that was how Bree had felt with me and Lex. I was all kinds of emotional and not at all ready for what Emilia said next. She was going to sleep in her office and let Bree and I have the bedroom. She just left, and left it there for us to address.

Bree seemed as surprised by it as I was. We talked. We talked all night. I was at her place until almost four in the morning. But we didn't kiss, we didn't fondle, and we certainly didn't fuck. We both wanted to, pretty badly if she wanted it anywhere near as bad as I did. But  I told her right out that I wasn't letting anyone else decide our timing. We'd figure it out ourselves, if the opportunity ever came up again. 

We left on a good note. Really good. We'd stay in touch. I'd call her tomorrow. We were friends again. It was way more of a roller coaster than I'd expected to get there, but there we were. 

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5 October

I hung out with Bree again yesterday. It was just like old times. We had fun, flirted a little, and everything felt very comfortable. I think knowing that she's with Emilia makes it easy for both of us. There's a sort of approval of us hanging out, but a line we know we won't cross. 

It's really good to have a friend again. 

But... I guess there's always a 'but' now. Seeing her reminds me. When I'm home, I think of her. I wish we had gone to her bedroom the other night. I wish that Emilia wasn't in her life, and imagine that it's Bree and me living together. I imagine coming home, eating dinner with her, enjoying some sort of domestic bliss that apparently isn't for people like me. I imagine us going to bed together. I touch myself thinking about her, about touching her, her touching me, the whole erotic daydream that is my Ultimate Bree Fantasy. And even though I know I'm good and safe and everything is getting better, even though the fantasy should be enough, it's not. 

Masturbation doesn't cut it.

And then it's evening, and I'm putting on a low cut blouse and pulling on stockings and a garter belt, sliding on that short skirt with the slit up one side, buckling up those ridiculously high heeled boots, and I know I'm going out. I wonder if I should call Doctor Fox, but it's not like it's an emergency. Then I wonder if I should call Bree but I don't want to ruin things and I don't want to worry her. And then the Uber is there and I'm out. 

I'm in a bar. It's loud, there's some kind of game on. I don't really know which one. I don't care. I'm just checking out the people there. My prospects don't look good. Everyone is in groups, friends, doing whatever people with friends do. Watch games, drink, and talk extra loud, I guess. I just want to scratch that itch. No, it's more than that. I NEED to scratch it. I don't want to be out here, I don't want to be looking, but I am. 

There's a young guy, a bar back, I guess. He's kind of checking me out, sitting at the end of the bar all by myself, dressed up like a high class prostitute, sipping scotch. I'm such an idiot. Why do I do this? I don't need him. I don't even particularly want him. But I want somebody. I want something, just for a few minutes. I'm self conscious. I know how stupid this is, and that I should go home and ram that twelve inch dildo so far up my pussy it hurts. I should turn myself off to the whole idea of sex. But it won't work. It will just make me want the real thing that much more. That's why I'm out here.

I follow bar back with my eyes, see him turn to look at me, then go into a back room. I'm off my bar stool in a heartbeat, knocking back my scotch, then heading toward the back room, my libido guiding me rather than my brain. I pause, then push the door open. Bar back is there with two other guys. They're all staring at the door, as if they knew I'd be coming. The two new guys look surprised, bar back grins. The idea of three guys at once flashes through my mind, but the thought of my own personal safety actually enters my mind for a change. I back out of the doorway, look down the hall, see a neon EXIT sign, and head for it as quickly as possible.

Outside it's cold. I didn't bring a jacket. The plan was to hop right in my Uber, head home, and head right inside. The jacket should have been unnecessary. Now, my breath comes in frosty little clouds, I lean back against the cold brick wall, my heart thuds in my chest. I almost went in there. Part of me wanted to. I'm supposed to be getting better about this. 

The door opens beside me and bar back steps outside. He looks at me, smiles, and steps outside. He stands in front of me, places a hand on the wall beside my head. He looks at me, stares, I stare back. He doesn't say anything, but the question is in his eyes. I nod, the say quietly, "fuck me."

He gropes my breast, hikes up my skirt, works his fingers at the front of my panties. He doesn't even notice the garter belt. I'm already getting wet, my mind does that to me when I head out. I could see someone across the room and be ready in an instant. He unzips his pants, pulls himself out, slips on a condom quick. Part of me is glad, prt of me curses the delay. He hikes my skirt back up, tugs my panties aside, and then he's inside me. It's quick, the only thrills are being in the back alley where anyone can see and the thrill of a stranger inside of me. He thrusts quickly, deep near the end, a few deep, long thrusts he holds up inside of me as he spends himself.

He slides out, pulls off the condom, drops it on the ground. He looks at me again, zipping and buttoning back up. He moves to the side, tugs the door open, looks back at me.

"Coming back in?" His voice sounds younger than he looks.

I shake my head no, smooth my skirt, watch him walk inside. As the door swings closed I push off the wall and turn down the alley, calling up the Uber app. It's cold. Hopefully it won't be too long.

When I got home, I showered for too long under water that was too hot and cried. I cried when I got out and toweled myself off. I cried as I pulled an over sized t-shirt over my head. I cried as I laid down in bed. I cried as I fingered myself. Nearing climax the crying stopped. Afterwards I cried myself to sleep.

I think I have a problem.

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6 October

I guess I should have written about it more from the start. I think I have an addiction.

Doctor Fox always said my behavior was borderline. She's treated addicts, and she thinks my problem stems from other issues and isn't actually sex addiction. But, after reading my entry from yesterday, Doctor Fox expressed concern. She worries most about the compulsive nature of my quest for intercourse, the fact that I did it with a stranger, and my remorse afterwards.

She wondered if my remorse was due to what I did, or not having done what I wished I'd done instead. She means Bree. She thinks I wanted to be with Bree and I went and fucked unnamed bar back to either get it out of my system or to somehow punish myself. She said my self-control since coming to see her has only become stronger. We discussed previous sexual encounters, even those with strangers, and she said that the situation did not seem like addiction. Last night, however, was dangerously close to my old behavior, the way I was acting when I didn't care if I lived or died.

So there's that. I need to find a safe way to indulge myself when these urges come over me. Random hookups are not only dangerous, they're stupid and not really satisfying. Especially not when all I can think of is Bree. It's stupid. She's not available. I hadn't thought about her much at all until the other day. I had managed to mostly forget her. 

Except I hadn't, not really. She had always been there in the back of my mind, teasing around the edges of my heart. She'd never left. She'd just been hiding.

And now she was back for real and it was the opposite of the situation last time. She's taken, I'm not. It's almost like the universe is giving me an opportunity to live the situation from the other side...

Holy shit. Is that what this is? Do I have to relive it from her perspective? 

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7 October

I don't want to write any more. This isn't helping. I think it's doing the opposite. I was doing much better when I just went to work, came home, read books, and went to bed.

But Doctor Fox said I was avoiding my issues, hiding from reality in the fantasy world of my books, and that I'd never be able to move forward if I didn't reflect on where I'd been and talk about what I'm feeling. So I keep writing this shit down.

Emilia called me. She apologized for getting confrontational with me. I told her it was okay. She said it really wasn't. She had been worried about Bree and wasn't kind to me. I told her she'd already explained it the other night and that we were cool. She laughed when I said that, then told me I was adorable and she could see why Bree liked me so much. She asked if I wanted to come over for dinner again, this time a proper dinner without a cross examination after. I agreed to come over this weekend.

So of course now I think she's trying to seduce me. I mean, I don't think that, but the thought entered my mind and now it won't go away. What if she is, though? What if she's trying to fuck me like Lex fucked Bree? I know she's not. Well, I don't really think she is. It's just me being stupid. 

And I got voicemail from Trong. He was one of Lex's best friends, one of the guys who Lex shared me with regularly. He saw me at my worst. Literally, begging him to do depraved shit to me after Lex was gone. Ugh. He also saw me at my best, at my happiest with Lex when things were going perfectly and I was as happy as I'll probably ever be in my life. He saw me at the height of my slave girl days, during my naked around the house phase, and... just everything. I'd had him inside of me. I'd had him inside of me while I sucked Reggie and Lex fucked my ass.

He'd been the one who kept fucking me long after the other two had written me off. If I called, if I asked, he came over. He never came over on his own. Only if I asked, but he did whatever I wanted. I thought he was a good friend, but eventually he stopped coming, too. I was just too much for any of them. I hadn't really thought of any of them much, aside from hoping they're okay and wondering if they even still consider me human.

Now that I think about it, I wonder about Trong. Why was he so accommodating? Why did he come every single time I called? Was he just that good a friend that he'd do whatever I wanted? I didn't think so. What was he getting out of it? Was it just kinky sex? Did he like me? Did he do it out of some weird obligation to Lex's memory? I wish I knew. I tried to remember anything specific that might give me a hint about what would have motivated him. He had always been kind to me, even after I asked him to do unspeakably violent things to me.

I remember one time, I had asked him and Adam to double team me. This was within a couple months of losing Lex. I kept screaming "harder harder" and they complied. I asked them, no not really. I ordered them. I yelled in their faces to slap my face, spank me, pull my hair, fuck me at the same time, harder, faster, deeper... I was punishing myself through whatever they were willing to do to me. And they willingly did everything I asked. Afterwards, I was exhausted, my body was just spent. I could barely move. I think that's what I wanted, the effect I was after. Adam left. Trong helped me into the tub. He was so gently, washing my body, my hair, like I was a child. It made me cry.

I started crying now, thinking about it. He was so tender. He lifted me out of the tub, toweled me off, carried me to my vanity. Dried my hair, helped me get into my pajamas, got me into bed, tucked me in. Then he sat and watched me drift off to sleep. I woke later and he was still there. He just sat and watched over me. I thought I heard him crying, but I didn't have the emotional fortitude to help him with whatever could be wrong. I pretended to roll over and still be sleeping.

Why was he so good to me? What had I done to deserve that kind of care? I never got a chance to ask him. I wasn't exactly in a good place then. By the time I was thinking of them as more than just on-call fucksticks, they'd all stopped answering my calls.

Now I've overthought it and I don't want to call him back. 

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9 October

I haven't really felt like writing in here. Nothing has happened and I don't want to just write crap to write. But of course, Doctor Fox says it's part of my treatment. So I got one day off and now I'm back here madly typing away for no discernible reason. Blah blah blah. 

I loved Lex and he's dead. I love Bree and she's with someone else. Guys I used to fuck keep calling me and all I want to do is read books. Oh no, my life is terrible. Queue the dramatic music...

This is stupid. 

...and I'm back. I can't concentrate on reading. I've tried, believe me. I'd much rather be off at University with Kvothe, enjoying his antics and feud with Ambrose. But my mind keeps coming back to this ridiculous journal. And so here I am, at my desk, typing away like an idiot when I could be curled up in my favorite chair under a blanket enjoying another world instead of this one.

And I guess that's part of my problem, isn't it? I don't like to face reality. I'd rather be in another world, ANY other world, than right here. It's just so much more entertaining, so much easier. There's no actual interaction with other people. The challenges are dealt with by people far more competent than me, and if not, the failures are someone else's concern. I can watch from afar as lives are lived by fictional people in carefully crafted tales that offer more adventure than I could ever really want in my normal life. But then I can go back to my mundane life without anything having changed. I can love those characters without any risk.

And that's the rub, isn't it? It's not real. There's no risk, so no real reward. That's what you want me to see, isn't it, Doctor Fox? That I'm not REALLY living if I only experience things through books. That I need people in my life because man is a social creature and blah blah blah. Bullocks to that. I've lived. I've done it. I had everything anyone could want and I lost it. It almost killed me. I got back out of that by myself. I didn't lean on someone. I built myself a life without the help of a shrink or friends or social bullshit. Why would I want to risk ever feeling even a fraction of that pain again? Why would I risk feeling that loss? 

Except that I know I'll feel it again. I can't NOT feel it. I can close myself off and try not to feel but I do feel. I feel too deeply, I think. I feel that connection to Bree. I feel something for Trong. He keeps popping back into my mind. Lindsay and Susan at work. My parents, my brother and sister, their families. My little nieces and nephews. That's not really it, then, is it?

What am I missing? Is it just that I'm afraid to be in love again? I mean, yes, of course I am. I'm not stupid. I know myself well enough to know that. I don't want to fall in love again. Ever. Losing that hurt. I can't imagine giving so much of myself, of my heart, to another person again. That's just stupidity. 

But I can imagine it. I can imagine it with Bree. I have imagined it. I've imagined us together. Living together. I've imagined it as if we met back then, as if there had been no Lex, and there was now no Emilia. As if we just met, hung out, let our relationship blossom and grow and turn into something amazing. In my dreams, it's beautiful, the two of us.

...and I'm crying again. Because that's something that will never happen. The door on our possible future closed years ago.

I am such an idiot.

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12 October

I know, it's supposed to be a daily journal. I didn't have anything to say for a couple days.

I called Trong. He's a sweetheart. He said Adam called and told him about my visit. He wanted to check in on me and make sure I was okay. I assured him I was, then asked if he wanted to get together sometime. He said sure, name the time and place, so I gave him my address and told him any time, really. He was at my door in forty minutes.

And he had me up against the wall in ten. It was literally a greeting, a smile, and clothes were coming off. He asked me what I wanted, and I just said, "you. just you and me, I just want to feel you." And that's what he gave me. Himself. His body. His slow, gentle lovemaking, nothing like what we'd ever done before. We got to it quickly, but once we were past the initial wave of lust or whatever that was that seemed to overtake us, he took his time. He was slow, sensitive, and felt out my reactions. He was one of the most thoughtful and reactive lovers I've ever been with. How had I never seen this side of him before? Was it just all the trappings of my sex dungeon lifestyle? Was it him doing what he thought I wanted? 

He kept going for longer than I think any man had ever lasted with me before. It was intense but comfortable. I love his body. He's not tall, under six feet, and has a skinny but muscular build. You might think he was a long distance runner or something from his build. He has a LOT of scars. He said they're from when he was young, but won't talk much about it. I traced every single one of them. There were long straight ones, curved ones, some tiny round ones. He didn't seem to want to elaborate, so I tried not to speculate and didn't ask too much, just checked out his body. He checked mine out while I did. We just touched each other. It was weirdly erotic but also not at all. I love his body. He's so... I don't know. He's masculine without being too large. I think he might have the perfect male build. Anyway.

We laughed and talked after. Trong really is a good guy. He has this easy way about him, like nothing bothers him. He smiles and laughs all the time. I really missed him. We fucked three more times that night, each time going more than an hour. No one has ever worn me out before, but he came close. He didn't cum. He said holding back helped him bring pleasure to his partner. He said it was some sort of Buddhist thing he'd been learning. I don't know what it was except amazing. The whole night was amazing. I felt like we made a connection, like something was developing between us. Like it wasn't just fucking. We talked all night long in between and sometimes during sex. It was slow, passionate, and intense. He slept over. Well, as much as either of us slept. 

He made me breakfast, we had sex in the kitchen, then against the wall in the hall, and then we hung out most of the morning and into the afternoon. We'd never hung out before, just the two of us. I was really enjoying it. Also, he kept taking sex breaks while we were talking. We were basically just half dressed all day, eating, talking, playing Xbox, fucking. At one point I started reading, just something I do when I'm comfy at home. He lifted me out of my chair, sat down and placed me in his lap. He slid inside of me and we just sat there, connected so intimately, both reading different books, neither moving or making a sound. It was so fucking amazing. I didn't really think of it that way, but afterwards, remembering it, it was just... wow. I almost forgot that I was supposed to have dinner with Bree and Emilia that night. But my phone went off reminding me and I nearly panicked. 

Trong picked on me for being all weird about dinner. We didn't kiss goodbye when he left, we just said "seeya" and he was gone. It left me feeling... well, sort of missing him, but also warm inside. It was like someone cared about me enough and knew me well enough to give me exactly what I wanted and needed. Sex almost non-stop with interludes of great conversation, reading, video games, and food. What more could a girl want? And why hadn't I called Trong earlier? He made everything feel so... I don't know. Calm? Good? Right?

I want to write about dinner with Bree and Emilia, but... I can't stop thinking about how oddly comfortable things were with Trong. I've never felt that kind of... I don't even have a word for it. Comfortable is the best I can come up with, and for a person who's generally uncomfortable around people, that's a BIG word.

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13 October

Yes, I had dinner with Bree and Emilia. It was just... dinner. With friends. I think Emilia feels bad about the way she treated me when we first met. She was really sweet. Everything went really well. Bree could tell something was different and grilled me about why I was "glowing." I told them about Trong. She seemed skeptical and Emilia didn't seem to like hearing about a guy. I think she must have been hurt by a guy in her past, because she sure turns right off as soon as guys and sex come up.

It's nice to see Bree again. Once we got past that first talk with Emilia, it's sort of like we never stopped being friends. I probably flirt a little less, mostly out of respect for her and Emilia, but it still feels like it did when we first met. Like all that time in between never happened. 

Bree is just amazing. She's small like me. Well, not quite like me. She has the biggest breasts I've ever seen on a girl her size that weren't made of silicone. I'm sort of jealous. I mean. I'm tiny. I've always wanted bigger breasts. But, I'm stuck with these tiny little things like some middle school girl who's just starting to develop. I hate my little boobies.

But Bree is just amazing in all ways. Physically she's just about perfect. And that smile. She can make me feel happy just seeing her smile. Those eyes, too. Her eyes are this ice blue, but sometimes they're more green... they're almost impossible to lock down to any one color. But they're light and filled with this sparkle. Which sounds stupidly cheesy for a girl who wanted to be a writer, but it's all I've got right now. If I stare into her eyes, I think I could get lost. Holy cliche. I should start writing shitty poetry.

We stayed up that night talking for hours and I ended up crashing on their couch. I woke up to Emilia bringing me coffee and cooking breakfast. She's more of a caretaker type, I think. She was like Mom to us last night, mostly just hanging out in the kitchen while Bree and me talked and talked all night. She kept refilling our drinks, bringing snacks, like she just wanted to be supportive and out of the way. We finally roped her in to a conversation about books, and it turns out she reads a lot of the same stuff as Bree and I do. I knew there was something I liked about her. 

So I got breakfast cooked for me both weekend days. That was pretty nice. I hung out with Emilia and Bree almost til noon, then I headed home.

Home. Wow. I needed some downtime. I don't usually spend that much time with people. I got home, showered, changed into a big comfy sweatshirt and flannel pants and curled up with a book. But I stopped. I didn't read. I thought about it. If reading is my escape, I get why I'd want to read all the time, but maybe instead I should think about what happened the past few days. Maybe I should consider my friendship with Bree, how I'm getting along with Emilia, and what the hell all that was with Trong. I don't know if writing about it will help or not. Probably, but I'm all over the place right now and it would probably just come out a jumbled mess of who knows what.

I'll put on my headphones, chill with some tunes, and see if my brain can make sense of everything.

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