Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
That’s what changes my mind and makes me turn around. His lonely voice.
His eyes are wild and worried. He tries to come closer but I stop him. “Don’t.”
He fists his hands on his sides, his jaw ticking, waiting.
“This is your job, isn’t it?”
He jerks out a nod. “Yes.”
“It’s porn. They’re making porn inside. This is how it’s done.”
Another nod.
“So what do you do? Make videos?”
“Snaps. I take the snaps. Video’s a different department.”
“Departments. Right. Of course, there are departments.”
“Pixie –”
I wipe my tears angrily. I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t want to be pathetic. I’ve been going crazy these past days thinking there was something wrong. I knew he was hiding something from me. I knew it. But I’ve been so stupid, haven’t I? Not anymore.
“I kept asking you and asking you. You let me think there was nothing going on. You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me. You’ve been letting me go crazy all these weeks. You…” Then something occurs to me and I trail off.
Does he want me to do it? Does he want me to have sex with him on camera?
I hug my sides, feeling naked without dropping an inch of clothing. I feel the wetness in my panties. Suddenly, it feels too glaring. It’s all I can think about. All I can think about is that couple in there. The way they moved. The way they fucked. The way he loved her like Abel loves me. Rough and desperate.
All I can think about is how aroused Abel was, how aroused I was, as we watched them.
Oh God, I’ve lost my mind. It’s not normal. Polite, normal people don’t do that. They don’t have sex in front of the camera.
Abel is saying something but I cut him off.
“I’m not doing it. I’m never doing it.”
Now, if only I can somehow stop seeing that couple in my head.
His jaw gets really hard, the vein at his temple popping. “What’d you say to me?”
I stand my ground. I stand on it. I plant roots on it. I’m never moving, never budging because I swear to God I’m not taking my clothes off in front of the whole world.
“I said I’m not doing it. It doesn’t matter that we had sex in the alley that one time. It doesn’t count. It doesn’t matter that we’re married now. Isn’t that why you brought me here? To show me? Isn’t that why you waited to tell me until I was tied to you? You thought I won’t say no because we’re married. No wonder you didn’t tell me. No wonder you hid it from me. No wonder you’ve been lying to me. Because no matter what you say or how aroused you were, you can’t make me do it.” My voice is a shriek by the time I finish. My eyes are a running river as I glare at him. Sneer at him.
Nothing moves. Nothing makes any sound. The world can’t be empty but it sure feels that way.
“You wanna know why I didn’t tell you, Pixie?”
I don’t answer. I’m too amped up to say anything right now, and the way he’s watching me, all hurt and angry, like it’s my fault. Like I’m doing something wrong. As if I’m the one taking naked pictures of people and lying about it.
A moment later, his shoulders sag. They lose all their fight. His jaw goes slack as he ducks his head down. It makes me ache and I hate myself for it.
I don’t care if the sun is duller or even if it burns out. I don’t care that this alley is shrouded in darkness because the light’s too weak to get in. I don’t care about any of that when the man I love, my husband, is looking down to his feet. When he’s the one who shines the most for me. When he’s the one who has the power to stare down the sky, the sun, God, everyone.
I’m so confused.
I just want to go back to this morning when things were okay. I want to go back to the first night in New York when we were just two runaways. No jobs, only aspirations. No lies, only promises.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me right now,” he says finally, lifting his head.
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like I’m something disgusting. Like I’m a monster.”
My husband is a liar.
He also makes porn. Well, not exactly. He doesn’t make it. He only takes the still snaps. Video is a whole ‘nother department.
I’d like to think that I’m strong. I’d like to think that the only reason I came back to the apartment with Abel is because I’m mature and married. And married couples talk about things. And we should too.