Page 11 of Exposed

“No,” I immediately protest. Then think better of the lie. “Yes. I don’t know.”

A knowing grin. “You are. But you’re afraid of it. Ain’tcha?”

I shrug. “A little, yes.” A breath. “That’s a lie. I’m very afraid. Today, just now, actually, I went outside. I met someone I used to know, and Caleb was jealous.” I find myself telling the story, and feeling lighter as each word leaves my lips. “He stripped me naked, and he performed cunnilingus on me—”

Rachel laughs. “Jesus, you’re so fucking uptight and formal. Just say he went down on you. Ate you out.”

I try it. “He... he went down on me. And then he put me on my knees on a couch and knelt behind me and—and fuckedme. And he never even took his pants off. Just left them partway down. And then he just left.”

Rachel blinks. “That’s harsh. He just... left? Like, he didn’t sayanything?”

“He reminded me that I was his.”

“Marking his territory, I guess.” Rachel glances at the ceiling. “I think it’d be hot to have him fuck me like that, still clothed. Like it’s... illicit. Is that the right word? Like we ain’t supposed to be doing it?”

“Like he’s ashamed of me.” That’s how it feels.

A shake of the head. “Nah, I don’t think that’s it. He ain’t the type to be ashamed. Not of himself or anything he does, or of anyone he’s with.”

“Then what could it be? Why would he be that way with me? That’s how it’s always been with us. In the dead of the night, sometimes he’ll take his clothes off, but he always puts them back on as soon as he’s done. And he always leaves right after.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. It’s weird. He’s not that way with any of us. He always leaves after, yeah, but he’s busy.”

“Is he, though? Busy doing what? Us, that’s what.”

“You’re not one of us. I don’t say that to, like, exclude you. It’s just that you’re not what we are. You’re not like us, either. You’re better.” A duck of the head, eyes down.

“I’m not, Rachel. Different, perhaps, but better? No. I’m still just one of ten for Caleb. And he doesn’t even bother to take off his clothes with me.”

“Try asking him, sometime? Try to take the initiative. See what he does.”

I don’t address the suggestion, but I do file it away to think about later. “Does it bother you, knowing you’re just one of many for him?”

Another careless shrug. “No. No way. I don’t give a shit. I hear him with the others all the time. Five’s a screamer, so Ican’t exactly ignore it. Plus, I used to be a hooker. I guess I just don’t think about sex like normal people do. It ain’t no big thing for me. And I’ll be out of this program soon. About to make the next level, which is just one step closer to becoming a Bride, becoming someone who matters.”

There’s a fallacy somewhere in Rachel’s statement, a heartbreaking assumption, but I’m not sure I want to dwell on it. I have my own problems.

“I should go,” I say.

“All right.” A grin as Rachel opens the door for me. “And you know, you ever want to hide under my bed again and listen, just let me know. Could be fun.”

I think of this as I board the elevator. Do I want to listen to that, again?

I think maybe I do. Morbidly, perhaps.

I’m in Rachel’s closet.

I should be working, I have a client in fifteen minutes. I am finding I do not care about clients anymore.

Rachel’s closet is sparse, so there is plenty of room for me. The door is cracked just slightly, allowing me to see out. I am nervous. Scared. Excited. Worried that what I’m about to do is going to backfire.

I’m not just going to listen, I’m going to watch.

Am I a fool?

Yes. Undoubtedly.

I hear the door open, and soft leather soles pad across hardwood. I hear voices.