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Z oning out in front of my computer screen has been my favorite part of my job for months. The monotony of it all kills the vibrance of my soul daily, and the realization dawns on me.

“This is not what I had in mind," I mutter to myself as I stare at the lines of code.

Daydreaming about some not-so-ordinary sexual fantasies and encounters might be a little over the top, but I have been single too long to care, and my ex was boring as fuck.

Coding, hacking, and web design are supposed to be fun and exciting. I guess I can’t complain too much since I work from home and get a decent paycheck.

My phone rings, and I answer the call without hesitation when I see Molly’s name flash on the screen.

She mentioned wanting me to stay over at her place tonight when we last spoke, but she hasn’t confirmed yet since we both have work tomorrow.

Lucky for me, I can work anywhere as long as I have my laptop.

Holding the phone a few inches from my ear, I am already expecting loud squeals from my best friend.

“Girl, tonight we're getting drunk!” Molly sings in her signature bubbly tone. I push my chair back, amused by her idea of getting drunk on a Thursday night, and hurry over to my bedroom, already feeling the excitement wash over me.

Am I irresponsible for not suggesting we move Girls' Night to this weekend? Yes.

Do I need to escape and have a good time sooner rather than later? Also, yes.

“Can’t wait! I’m packing as we speak. Do you need me to bring anything?” I ask, grabbing some clothes and stuffing them into my overnight bag.

“Nope, I got the booze, and I will order the pizza as soon as you get your ass to my place,” she hums. Girl’s night with my bestie has been long overdue.

We have been best friends since we met at my cousin’s nightclub a year ago. We were at the Hell’s Playground launch party, and it was an amazing night, although I don’t remember half of it. I blame Joel and his half-price shots.

Joel knows how to make people have an enjoyable time. He has an elusive, cocky personality, but he has always been the life of the party, which is probably why Molly had a crush on him when I introduced them at his club’s opening.

I smile at the thoughts of that night as I finish packing and head out to my car after ending the call. She wants me there at six, and it’s already five thirty-eight. If I don’t leave now, I’ll hear her usual “you’re late” speech again.

Traffic was hell on the way here.

A soft chuckle escapes as I glance at my phone's time. I know all too well what's in store. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I stroll to Molly's apartment. Just as I lift my hand to knock, she flings the door wide open.

“Took you long enough!” she hisses sarcastically as she pulls me inside with an unmistakably evil smile and slams the door shut behind us.

“Whoa! I’m only like ten minutes late, M. The traffic is fucking terrible on the way to your place. Tell me again why you moved to an apartment in the middle of the city?” I laugh as I toss my bag onto the chair beside the tiny kitchen island.

“Hey, not everyone dreams about living in the suburbs,” she giggles and shakes her head, strands of amber hair falling from her messy bun as she steps closer to hug me tightly.

How does her hair still look good in the messiest bun ever?

Molly has the most beautiful hair, which is not surprising since she is a hairdresser. This woman can do magic with a pair of scissors and a bowl of color.

I watch her as she opens the fridge and grabs the ice-cold bottle of tequila while twirling a strand of my hair in my fingers.

Hair jealousy is real right now…

My hair is a chocolaty brown, and I recently bleached my face-framing layers to a white-blonde shade. I think it suits my personality.

“Hey, Earth to Alex! Are you listening to me?” Molly yells from the living room as she places two shot glasses on the coffee table, already filled to the brim with tequila.

“Fuck, sorry. What were you saying? I was thinking about work stuff,” I lie, rubbing the back of my neck and flashing her a smile.

She rolls her baby-blue eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Never mind. Here, drink and stop thinking about work.” She holds out the tiny glass and waits as I approach the couch. I plop down next to her and take the glass.

“Yes, ma’am,” I joke as I look into her serious eyes before lifting it and swallowing the entirety.

A rush of warmth spreads through my body from the tequila. We go through two more shots and then decide to move on to beer as we sink deeper into the couch. Our laughter fills the apartment, and conversation flows like liquid from our lips.

We listen to music, singing and dancing to the songs without a care in the world until Molly looks at me with a mischievous smirk and announces that she wants to make homemade cocktails with whatever is in her fridge.

Like a science experiment, we mix our drinks. Clinking our glasses when we finish our concoction. We both take a sip, expecting a magical taste in our drunken folly, but disgust morphs our features instead.

The two of us nearly barf and laugh at each other as we hurry to the fridge in search of something to chase away the horrid taste.

After our failed attempt at making cocktails, we grab blankets off the couch and head out on Molly’s balcony, looking up at the stars that dot the night sky with a cold, half-drunk bottle of vodka.

“What’s your most dangerous fantasy?” Molly blurts out, and the corners of her mouth tilt into a curious grin.

I think for a second, raking my fingers through my hair. “Getting buried alive…”

Her eyes widen as her mouth pops open in surprise. “Um… what?! You want to be buried alive?” She whisper-yells, slurring her words as she unscrews the bottle’s cap and takes a large swig without breaking eye contact with me. I huff out a breathy giggle.

“You said dangerous fantasy,” I shrug. “I have always wondered what it would be like to get buried alive. What’s yours?”

She takes another sip and hands me the bottle. “Damn, Lexi, I knew you were twisted, but that’s some dark shit,” she laughs before clearing her throat. “I meant sexual fantasies. I don’t fantasize about my death, you weirdo!” She jokes and nudges my knee as I gulp down two big sips from the bottle.

“Oh, shut up. You love my crazy ass!” I tease and poke out my tongue, revealing the silver stud that hugs it perfectly. I hand the bottle back to her and lean back on my elbows.

“Yes, I do!” she laughs and drinks again. “Tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine,” she eggs me on, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Well, I had a pretty interesting daydream earlier today. You ruined it,” I tease and grab the vodka from her hand before she empties the bottle by herself.

“What? How did I ruin your fantasy daydream? I didn’t do shit!” she scoffs.

“You called… I told you to text me when you got home,” I laugh as she rolls her eyes and waits for me to tell her what she so rudely interrupted in my twisted imagination.

“I was daydreaming about being kidnapped. The thought of it made me feel alive, you know. The idea that someone would snatch me from my daily life and keep me as their captive. No stress. No responsibilities. That sounds like a dream come true, right?”

“What?!” she slurs as she places the now-empty vodka bottle on the floor beside me.

“You know, kidnapped and taken. Bound and gagged—to be used for my captor’s pleasure and not having to ask for something new like I had to with my ex.

He was too safe. Too boring. I want someone to dominate me and take full control while also indulging in my curiosities and darker kinks,” I explain, shrugging my shoulders as I take a deep breath and wait for the judgment or, worse, laughter.

“Seriously?” she asks in a confused but calm tone.

“Seriously,” I brush my hair behind my ear and move my tongue from side to side in my mouth. The piercing makes a satisfying ticking sound against my teeth, easing some of the awkwardness I feel in my stomach.

“Why?” she asks in a whisper. I hesitate, so she continues. “I mean, you’re not the type of person who would want to be taken away like that. You're… different."

“Different?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re the kind of person who is happy just chilling with her friends, eating pizza, and watching movies.

You’re the type who’d have a steady, normal boyfriend who’s easy-going but strong-willed.

I can’t imagine you being held captive without putting up one hell of a fight to stop it from happening,” she says.

“So… I’m boring and stubborn.”

She laughs. “No. You’re not boring. Stubborn? Um, hell yeah. You just… don’t seem like the type to go looking for that kind of trouble,” she says, fidgeting with her hands as if she feels guilty for saying it.

I smile and take her hands. “You’re right. But I want trouble. I want to be taken away, completely out of control, and feel the excitement and danger that come with it. I’m tired of normal. Normal is fucking boring.”

She is quiet for a moment, then smiles and clears her throat. “Okay, my turn.”

“What is it?” I ask, pushing down the drunken annoyance at her sudden subject change from my fantasy to hers.

“I want Joel,” she confesses. Her cheeks immediately grow red as she waits for my reaction.

I chuckle. “Joel? Really? You still have a crush on that idiot?”

Molly rolls her eyes, “Shut up, Lexi. I know he’s not the best guy out there, and he can have any girl he wants, but something about him drives me wild.” I nod, understanding the feeling all too well. There have been a few men in my life who have made me feel that way.

Joel is objectively a good-looking man. His sandy brown hair and hazel eyes, coupled with his cocky smile, have always made girls swoon. I suppose it is an added bonus that he is successful and 5'8".

“He is my cousin, so excuse my cringy expression. I’m afraid to ask, but what’s the fantasy?” I ask, hoping I don’t vomit at her confession.

She bites her lip. “Okay, don’t judge! I want him to let me tie him up and have control. I want him to beg for it.”

I giggle, trying my best not to picture the vivid image that forms in my mind. “Hmm, kinky… okay. So, you want to fuck him once to get him out of your system, or do you want to date him?” I ask in a joking tone.

She laughs and pushes me playfully. “Shut up; you’re apparently just as kinky as I am. Either way… I would fuck him, but if we end up together, that’s a bonus!”

Damn, I was hoping she’d just want to get him out of her system. Although this gives me an idea.

Molly and I passed out in her living room last night. Or maybe it was this morning?

After a strong cup of coffee and a much-needed shower, we discuss the idea I had last night before we go our separate ways.

We do some research on companies that stage kidnappings and decide to go for it. Most of them only really do bachelor parties, but we found one or two that specialize in exactly what I want. Kink has truly evolved, especially online.

Molly will set up the fake kidnapping, and I will do whatever it takes to get Joel to go out with her. He is always going on and on about having adventures, so this seems like a perfect opportunity for him. Molly is fun, outgoing, and even more adventurous than my pain-in-the-ass cousin.

The plan is in motion, and a thrill runs through me as we excitedly begin preparations. Molly dives into her research, and I can’t help but feel a little guilty about all the work she is putting into this when all I have to do is convince Joel to ask her out.