know what to do with myself. I have to stop worrying about Henry now and concentrate on finding out if Jake’s information about my father is true. If it is, does my mother know? Why does this have to be happening now, of all times, when I’m in the middle of the most erotic adventure of my life with Professor Sparling? The last thing I want to do is deal with the past when I’m finally enjoying the present. But, today perfectly demonstrated that I must face the fact that my past will never be behind me. No matter where I go or how much I try to ignore it, my past will always be with me because it’s in my blood. My mind circles back to Henry, and how much I don’t want to explain my shame to him. I don’t want to go there. I just want him to come back and keep me company. I can’t stop myself from grabbing my phone and texting Henry. I hate the idea that he’s upset with me. Want to hang? I write.
He replies right away. Can’t. Date.
Henry is going on a date right before Christmas? No one is even in town. I’m not surprised at how disappointed I am that he isn’t coming over tonight. I’m in the mood to cuddle up and watch a movie. There are chocolate chip cookies waiting to be eaten and I don’t want to eat them alone.
If your date is boring, stop by after.
Knowing Henry, his date will be anything but boring. I feel a smidgen of envy at the thought of Henry on a hot date, but I promptly assert to myself that it’s just because I’m lonely. Surely the sentiment has nothing to do with the way it felt to be in Henry’s arms wearing nothing but a towel.
I get my laptop and take it into bed with me. There are messages from Jake and from P.Sparling. I open Jake’s first. I’m a “first the bad news” kind of person. I like to save the “good news” for last.
Dear Sydney,
I’m so sorry I upset you today. I was trying to help. I hope you know that. It looks like you have someone taking care of you in Addison. I’m glad. I will stay away from you, but I’m here if you need me. Good luck with everything. And love, as always.
Jake
My heart knots up. This turn of events with Jake is both surprising and inevitable. He will always be my first love and he will always be the one who tried to help me float when all I wanted to do was sink. Now, however, I want to push Jake and the memories of the past away. I don’t want to think about my father and the hell that would break loose if Jake’s information is correct. Could my father really have had the nerve to return to U.S. soil? And if it’s true, what does he want, and why now? All I want to do is go back 24 hours to the time when I was lost in my lust for Professor Sparling. That was more than enough commotion for me.
And now, for the “good news,” I click to my message from Professor Sparling.
Dear Sydney,
I’m the safest secret you’ll ever have. I know you want me to see you naked. Send me a picture. I’m imagining you taking off your top, and your breasts falling out of the cups of your bra as you yank it down to show me your gorgeous assets. I want to work my tongue on your nipples. I want to put my hand between your legs and feel how much you want me. You want me so much, Sydney. I told you before, you don’t need to be shy with me. Send me a picture.
Waiting,
Paul
To think that Professor Sparling is this into me is incomprehensible. He is a famous writer, a brilliant professor with deep green mesmerizing eyes. He is utterly handsome and he could have any woman on earth. What could he possibly see in me? I’m so plain and unsophisticated. I’m pale and depressing.
I wish I could talk to Henry about this now. I suppose, though, that it would be inappropriate to text him questions about emailing naked photos of myself while he’s out on a date. To send or not to send? That is a question I should write into one of those women’s magazines:
Dear Janis,
Please advise. I’m having a virtual sexual relationship with my former
He replies right away. Can’t. Date.
Henry is going on a date right before Christmas? No one is even in town. I’m not surprised at how disappointed I am that he isn’t coming over tonight. I’m in the mood to cuddle up and watch a movie. There are chocolate chip cookies waiting to be eaten and I don’t want to eat them alone.
If your date is boring, stop by after.
Knowing Henry, his date will be anything but boring. I feel a smidgen of envy at the thought of Henry on a hot date, but I promptly assert to myself that it’s just because I’m lonely. Surely the sentiment has nothing to do with the way it felt to be in Henry’s arms wearing nothing but a towel.
I get my laptop and take it into bed with me. There are messages from Jake and from P.Sparling. I open Jake’s first. I’m a “first the bad news” kind of person. I like to save the “good news” for last.
Dear Sydney,
I’m so sorry I upset you today. I was trying to help. I hope you know that. It looks like you have someone taking care of you in Addison. I’m glad. I will stay away from you, but I’m here if you need me. Good luck with everything. And love, as always.
Jake
My heart knots up. This turn of events with Jake is both surprising and inevitable. He will always be my first love and he will always be the one who tried to help me float when all I wanted to do was sink. Now, however, I want to push Jake and the memories of the past away. I don’t want to think about my father and the hell that would break loose if Jake’s information is correct. Could my father really have had the nerve to return to U.S. soil? And if it’s true, what does he want, and why now? All I want to do is go back 24 hours to the time when I was lost in my lust for Professor Sparling. That was more than enough commotion for me.
And now, for the “good news,” I click to my message from Professor Sparling.
Dear Sydney,
I’m the safest secret you’ll ever have. I know you want me to see you naked. Send me a picture. I’m imagining you taking off your top, and your breasts falling out of the cups of your bra as you yank it down to show me your gorgeous assets. I want to work my tongue on your nipples. I want to put my hand between your legs and feel how much you want me. You want me so much, Sydney. I told you before, you don’t need to be shy with me. Send me a picture.
Waiting,
Paul
To think that Professor Sparling is this into me is incomprehensible. He is a famous writer, a brilliant professor with deep green mesmerizing eyes. He is utterly handsome and he could have any woman on earth. What could he possibly see in me? I’m so plain and unsophisticated. I’m pale and depressing.
I wish I could talk to Henry about this now. I suppose, though, that it would be inappropriate to text him questions about emailing naked photos of myself while he’s out on a date. To send or not to send? That is a question I should write into one of those women’s magazines:
Dear Janis,
Please advise. I’m having a virtual sexual relationship with my former
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