Free The Stranger by Kyra Davis Page B

moments I bask in her envy, allow myself to indulge in the gratification that comes from my newfound audacity.
    “You made love on his desk,” she repeats. “It sounds like a fantasy.”
    I shake my head. “That’s the thing, I did it and then I fantasized about it afterward .”
    “But it was better than a fantasy,” Simone corrects. “It’s a memory now, and it’s yours to keep.”
    “No.” I shake my head. “In my fantasy I . . . added things.” I swallow the rest of the burning liquid and tell her my imaginings . . . the image of him entering me while my team looks on. The words are hard to get out but I need to tell someone whose mind might be unconventional enough to explain the shift in mine.
    “I imagined myself having sex in front of the people I work with!” I finally exclaim. “It’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
    Simone stares at me for a moment and leans back against the opposite end of the couch. She stretches her long legs toward me so she now has the repose of a Roman who might be fed grapes by beautiful slaves.
    “Remember when I used to date Jax?”
    I nod. Jax flies into my head with his wavy dark hair and impertinent brown eyes.
    “While I was with him I developed this fantasy. . . .”
    “ ‘Developed a fantasy,’ ” I repeat. The term sounds so purposeful, as if she spent her nights laying out a structure for her future daydreams.
    “I still indulge it from time to time. I’m laying out on his deck on one of his lawn chairs, flat on my stomach wearing nothing but my bikini bottoms. I don’t hear the knock on the door, or the footsteps of his friends.” Her voice is slowing, lowering, changing texture. “He leads them out to the deck. . . . I try to get up with some bit of modesty, my arm covers my bare breasts as I walk to them, shake their hands. I lead them to the living room and they all take a seat. Jax asks me to get each one of them a beer from that little bar area of his. I lean down and take the beer out of the mini fridge, try to open it without revealing too much, but every once in a while they get a glimpse. I’m pouring an ice cold beer in a glass for each one of them and now I serve them . . . wearing almost nothing.”
    “And then?”
    “Jax asks me to sit next to him. He doesn’t want me to get more clothes. He wants me to be there with him right now. And so I oblige. He’s already turned the television on; it’s the Lakers as it always is with him. . . .”
    I can see by the glazed look of her eyes that she’s not with me anymore. She’s by Jax’s side . . . wearing almost nothing.
    “His hand falls to my leg and I shiver as it moves up and down . . . in front of all these men.” She shudders and suddenly I’m self-conscious. I shouldn’t be seeing this. I was not invited into this room full of men.
    “Jax tells his friends that I am the most orgasmic woman he’s ever been with. He tells them he can make me come with a touch.”
    I close my eyes and turn my head. I’m not seeing Simone anymore. I’m not seeing Jax. I’m seeing Robert Dade, his hands sliding higher and higher up my inner thigh.
    “He hands one of them his phone, asks him to record us . . . he even invites his friends to record it on their own phones if they like, so they can see me climax whenever they want. I’ll be in their pocket, exposed for their pleasure.”
    I suck in a short breath. This isn’t my fantasy but I understand it. I feel the cameras on me, feel the stares.
    “The bikini is only tied together with pretty little bows placed on each hip. He unties the knots, lets them see me, and then, as they watch, as they film me, he touches me, moving his finger slowly then faster and faster . . . I can’t control myself anymore. I’m writhing around in my seat as they watch. I let the fingers of one of his hands explore my depth as his other hand pulls my arm away from my breasts. And the men, they keep watching, keep filming as I