ONE- EBON
I know what I’m feeling is largely due to guilt, but I don’t want to throw a bunch of assholery out into the cosmos and it come back to me in twenty years as a shit sandwich that I’m forced to eat. That’s how I got here, to this moment.
I woke up thinking about the incredible sex Sage and I had last night. In fact, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Or the way it feels tainted and dirty—and not in the good dirty way—to have been so focused on Willow.
These last few run-ins with Sage have opened my eyes to something. Maybe I’ve been so blinded by my unhandy desire to get inside Willow that I’ve missed something spectacular right in front of me. There is obviously much more to Sage than what I ever gave her credit for. Quite frankly, there’s more to her than what I ever imagined there could be. She always seemed… vacuous before, but now…
If I’m going to continue sleeping with her, which I damn sure am because I’m nowhere near finished with her, then I need to try harder to put Willow out of my mind and focus on Sage. It’s the right thing to do.
For the first time since I met her, that doesn’t sound as hard as it once did. I think back to when I looked down into her sleepy eyes. I can tell that she’s changed; I can feel it as much as I could see it. Or maybe she’s in the process of changing. Hell, I don’t know. People mature at different speeds. Maybe Sage is just hitting her stride. Whatever the reason, something’s going on with her and I’m loving the fuck out of it. I’m one lucky bastard to have stumbled upon her at such a time. And to think I might’ve missed it…
My conscience feels a little lighter as I let my mind wander toward plans for the week. Willow said Sage had a busy schedule. I feel sure that can’t extend to the wee hours. I’ll just have to time my visits with that in mind.
In the meantime, I’m going to do my dead level best to keep my eyes and my mind off Willow. For all intents and purposes, she’s dead to me. I’ll be polite and cordial, just as any of her professors would be, but otherwise, I’ll avoid and ignore her as much as possible. I simply cannot allow even the whisper of impropriety to make its way to the ears of the Dean. And all things involving Willow are just that: improper. And much, much more.
Besides, I’ve got some writing to focus on. While Willow’s work may have started this whole fire, I can fan the flames by writing for Sage. And write, I will.
TWO- WILLOW
For the third time, I make a conscious effort to still my wiggling foot. It’s an outward sign of the nervous energy I feel waiting for the doctor to come in. When she does, I let out a big sigh of relief.
It’ll be over soon enough.
“Ms. Masters, what brings you in today?” the forty-ish brunette in the crisp, white coat asks as she perches primly on a rolling stool.
“I’d like to start birth control pills.”
“Are you currently sexually active?” She doesn’t bother to look up as she talks; she just flips through the pages of my chart, which is depressingly thick for someone my age. My parents insisted that I transfer my entire life history to a local doctor when I started school. Just in case I needed anything. Or, in other words, in case something happened so that someone around here would know my history. My long, sordid history. And this lady is obviously making herself acquainted with it as we speak.
“Yes.”
She nods slowly, still focused on the pages in her lap. “You had your ablation…six years ago. Have you begun having periods again?”
“I’ve spotted for the last couple of months. I don’t know if that means I need to be this cautious, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“Wise, wise,” she mutters. “You’re not taking any other medications?”
“No, ma’am.”
That gets her attention. She looks up at me, peering from beneath her narrow glasses. “You’re not?”
Here it comes…
“No,
I know what I’m feeling is largely due to guilt, but I don’t want to throw a bunch of assholery out into the cosmos and it come back to me in twenty years as a shit sandwich that I’m forced to eat. That’s how I got here, to this moment.
I woke up thinking about the incredible sex Sage and I had last night. In fact, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Or the way it feels tainted and dirty—and not in the good dirty way—to have been so focused on Willow.
These last few run-ins with Sage have opened my eyes to something. Maybe I’ve been so blinded by my unhandy desire to get inside Willow that I’ve missed something spectacular right in front of me. There is obviously much more to Sage than what I ever gave her credit for. Quite frankly, there’s more to her than what I ever imagined there could be. She always seemed… vacuous before, but now…
If I’m going to continue sleeping with her, which I damn sure am because I’m nowhere near finished with her, then I need to try harder to put Willow out of my mind and focus on Sage. It’s the right thing to do.
For the first time since I met her, that doesn’t sound as hard as it once did. I think back to when I looked down into her sleepy eyes. I can tell that she’s changed; I can feel it as much as I could see it. Or maybe she’s in the process of changing. Hell, I don’t know. People mature at different speeds. Maybe Sage is just hitting her stride. Whatever the reason, something’s going on with her and I’m loving the fuck out of it. I’m one lucky bastard to have stumbled upon her at such a time. And to think I might’ve missed it…
My conscience feels a little lighter as I let my mind wander toward plans for the week. Willow said Sage had a busy schedule. I feel sure that can’t extend to the wee hours. I’ll just have to time my visits with that in mind.
In the meantime, I’m going to do my dead level best to keep my eyes and my mind off Willow. For all intents and purposes, she’s dead to me. I’ll be polite and cordial, just as any of her professors would be, but otherwise, I’ll avoid and ignore her as much as possible. I simply cannot allow even the whisper of impropriety to make its way to the ears of the Dean. And all things involving Willow are just that: improper. And much, much more.
Besides, I’ve got some writing to focus on. While Willow’s work may have started this whole fire, I can fan the flames by writing for Sage. And write, I will.
TWO- WILLOW
For the third time, I make a conscious effort to still my wiggling foot. It’s an outward sign of the nervous energy I feel waiting for the doctor to come in. When she does, I let out a big sigh of relief.
It’ll be over soon enough.
“Ms. Masters, what brings you in today?” the forty-ish brunette in the crisp, white coat asks as she perches primly on a rolling stool.
“I’d like to start birth control pills.”
“Are you currently sexually active?” She doesn’t bother to look up as she talks; she just flips through the pages of my chart, which is depressingly thick for someone my age. My parents insisted that I transfer my entire life history to a local doctor when I started school. Just in case I needed anything. Or, in other words, in case something happened so that someone around here would know my history. My long, sordid history. And this lady is obviously making herself acquainted with it as we speak.
“Yes.”
She nods slowly, still focused on the pages in her lap. “You had your ablation…six years ago. Have you begun having periods again?”
“I’ve spotted for the last couple of months. I don’t know if that means I need to be this cautious, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“Wise, wise,” she mutters. “You’re not taking any other medications?”
“No, ma’am.”
That gets her attention. She looks up at me, peering from beneath her narrow glasses. “You’re not?”
Here it comes…
“No,