From the Diary of Cat Ramsey. Same night.
“I did it because I was drunk. If I had been sober, I would have never put his finger in my mouth. My pussy was wet, throbbing. And when he raised his beer to me, I played along.
“Did I wanna fuck him, Diary? Of course I did. In my fantasies. I wanted to be fucked backwards by him until my toes left the ground. I wanted to have him ride into me until I forgot everything.
“In my fantasies.
“But also a little bit in reality.
“What happened with Tiago—Christ, it still hurts at my chest when I see the image of that skank on her knees with him. Anyway... What happened with him made me grow up, made me think twice about this whole love bullshit. Is there such a thing? Or are we all just a bunch of fucking animals looking for a compressed explosion of bodily fluids. I know, crass. And yet that’s how I feel about it.
“But the Tiago Fiasco taught me something else. There’s no point in waiting, in holding yourself back. Hell, there’s no point in putting all your goddamn eggs in one basket. Heck, Sexy Boy tonight (his name is Nathan by the way) was making eyes at me. At me, not at Nicole. It boosted my confidence. It never happens, and tonight it did. And it boosted my confidence. And if I had been anyone else, sure, maybe I would have ended up in bed with the guy. But I just felt like having a little fun. I wanted to feel like I was in charge, like I called the shots. Tiago—that rotten, good for nothing, lowlife, slime of a shitface—made me feel most definitely not in charge. Made me feel like a sucker, a chaser. Unimportant. So Unsexy, as Alanis Morissette so aptly put it.
“Sure, I’d like to have my brains fucked out by Nathan. And I’d like to do it on my own terms. When and where I want. And I also want to end it when I want.
“If I follow this route, am I destined eventually to the life of a spinster? I can’t answer that. I can only take it a day at a time. A person at a time. A flirt at a time.
“Cat Ramsey, Tuesday, September 8”
From the Diary of Cat Ramsey. Next day.
“Nathan ‘wooed’ me again today. Six AM, he called.
“‘This is me wooing you again,’ he said.
“‘You did that yesterday.’
“‘I’m doing it again.’
“‘At six in the morning?’
“Nicole was fast asleep. We’d come home and hit an extra bottle of rum and she got sick in the bathroom and passed out. Nathan and I then sexted after I finished my diary entry.
“‘Yes, at six,” he said. ‘I want to see you before you leave.’
“‘That doesn’t sound like wooing.’
“‘The texts you sent me last night have changed my mind.’
“‘You’re gonna have to wait,’ I say. I didn’t want to come on too strong.
“‘I can’t.’
“‘Well, you must. Hold on, I need to go outside.’ I went outside so as not to disturb my snoring best friend. When I got to the railing and looked down...I saw him. He was holding his phone up, Kojak-style head gleaming under the lightening blue sky. Smoothly, he put his phone down, then stuck it in his pocket.
“‘Good morning,’ he rumbled. I couldn’t see his brown eyes from here, but I remembered how they’d caught me the night before, caught me like a deer in headlights. ‘I brought coffee.’ He held up a container with two cups in it. I was still in my shorts, and braless. ‘You look good,’ he said. I wondered if he was eyeing my breasts, but from where I was, I couldn’t tell.
“‘Good morning.’ I tried not to be too loud. Not only was Nicole sleeping, but so was the rest of the motel.
“‘Walk with me,’ he said. No, more like commanded.
“I didn’t hesitate, Diary. I liked how he was here, holding coffee. Wanting me. ‘Lemme get dressed.’
“‘Be quick.’
“We strolled near the docks, the scent of the sea streaming in the wind. Gulls flew above us. The air was nippy, and my arms caught gooseflesh. I hadn’t bothered to change my shirt, just threw some slip-slops on. But now I was regretting it.
“‘Here,’ Nathan said, putting a denim jacket around me. The inside was made of fleece. And it smelled of strong cologne.
“I sipped my coffee and kicked my feet against the ground. I was a little hungover, and if Nathan wanted to get it on with me, now would be a bad time. The coffee was helping.
“We talked. And I was surprised he didn’t rip my clothes off when we got to a quiet area without any people around. We sat on a bench looking out over a marina.
“‘I imagine you were wasted yesterday,’ he said.
“‘I knew what I was doing.’
“He looked at me a long while, questioningly. ‘You wanted to fuck me?’
“Hearing him use the word fuck made my legs tingle. I did. I wanted to fuck him now as well. In a perfect world, it would happen, right here on this bench....
“I didn’t know how to answer, and he didn’t push it.
“‘Like I said,’ he repeated. ‘I imagine you were wasted.’
“‘And like I said: I knew what I was doing.’
“‘How’s the coffee?’
“I took another sip and it burned my lip. ‘Good.’
“And then it happened.
“I was still looking at the plastic top, still feeling the scald of it on my tongue, and Nathan moved a foot toward me. He was now next to me, his massive leg pressing against mine. With his right hand, he grabbed me and pulled me toward him. The coffee came between us and he grabbed it, said, ‘I’ll get you another one,’ and flung it out onto the grass.
“He looked at me fiercely for a second, his eyes hunting mine. ‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘If I were any other guy, I might hurt you.’
“‘I’ve been hurt. I can handle it.’
“He held me firmly by both shoulders now. ‘I don’t mean like that. I mean for real, like...what men do to women, you know?’
“‘But you haven’t. So my judgment of character must be right.’
“He scowled at me still, held my gaze an endless moment. My face burned from his look, and my arms hurt with how hard he was holding me.
“I couldn’t look at him, and I had no explanation as to why. His grip tightened. And then some more. It tightened so much that I finally said, ‘You’re—you’re hurting me...’
“His fingers unclutched immediately. I’d have a bruise there, I knew.
“‘I can’t figure you out,’ he said. ‘You came across hotter than a slut, but you’re no slut. You just don’t act like one. A slut would have taken me behind that boat house there and gotten on her knees in front of me instead of drink coffee.’
“‘Do you need to figure me out?’
“‘I do. I...’ He turned back on his seat, faced the marina again. Let me go. I was suddenly untethered, feeling the cold wind blow against my skin. Light ocean sounds of moving water could be heard a few feet away.
“I wanted to put my hand on his leg. Not sure why. He’d introverted me, made me look inwards. He’d made me question why I’d done what I’d done. And he was right, I could have gotten hurt.
“But he was also wrong. There was something about him this morning that made me know I could trust him. Tiago didn’t decrease my ability to judge people, it increased it.
“I suddenly wanted to see Nathan again, but thought it was stupid because all I knew about him was that he delivered things for a living—heavy things—and that he lived in Maine. That he’s a single child, and was raised by a single mother.
“Beyond that...
“‘I want to see you again,’ he said. ‘But I can’t drive down to New York every week. I’m not Mr. Rich Guy.’
“‘All my travels are tax-deductable,’ I said.
“‘Because of the photos.’
“‘Yes.’
“‘When?’
“My stomach sank into itself and tightened. ‘When do you want?’
“He turned his deadly gaze to me again, melted my heart. ‘Now. Tomorrow. The next day.’
“I swallowed hard.
“‘I need to go home with my friend. But I can come back.’
“He kept looking at me, looking, looking...
“‘I can’t figure you out,’ he repeated. ‘Every part of me, every goddamn muscle, wants to rip that shirt off you and...’ He bit his lip. ‘But you’re not that kind of girl. I thought you were, initially, but you’re not.’
“‘Have I disappointed you?’
“He gave a mocking half-laugh. ‘On the contrary...’
“‘I’m not innocent,’ I hinted.
“‘Just out of your depth?’
“‘Try me,’ I said. My crotch was just about ready to burst.
“Nathan bit his lip, clenched his fingers into a fist.
“And then he took me.
“Completely.
“And it was fucking wild.”
From Cat’s diary, continued.
“I don’t remember being lifted from the wooden bench, but my feet left the ground, and then I was behind a wall, pressed hard against the concrete...
“...and Nathan’s hand was inside me.
“I don’t remember when it got there, the preparation, none of it. All I remember is every part of me opening for him, sucking him in, swallowing all of him into me.
“I held onto his rock-hard body, felt my hands go around his hard and round deltoids. My whimpers mixed in with the gentle laugh of the waves as they hit against the walls of the marina below.
“Nathan’s hand plied me like a madman. I soon found my own hand sliding down to find him, rubbed him over his jeans. My feet went onto their toes, and my teeth dug a gash down his chest.
“He roared into my neck, inhaled me deeply like I was made of flowers.
“The sting built up in me. His finger rocked and rubbed and took no pity, no mercy, just attacked savagely and wetted me thoroughly and madly. Liquid streamed down my right thigh. Soon I had to lean back against the wall. My legs had no more strength. I rubbed faster, felt my palm get hot against his jeans. With his other hand, he pulled against the small of my back so that my crotch was pinned against his hand inside me.
“Faster, rocking, harder, rolling my hips down and down and roughly and...
“I whispered into his chest, ‘Oh, dear God...’
“And then I came.”
“I held onto him like he was the top of a mountain. I heard his own groan, hoarse and thick, building up at his throat. And then I felt him burst, felt the warmth of him seep through the fabric of his jeans. I rubbed even harder, flying and doing cartwheels in the sky as we soared up into heaven and beyond, spinning, exploding, sending smatterlings of glitter splashing through the fabric of the sky.
“And then, endlessly, still tensed from last night, we both took a massive fucking breath. And he held me. He put his burly arms around my tiny form, and crushed me to him.
“‘This week,’ he said. ‘I want to see you again this week.’
“‘OK.’
“‘I’ll drive to you if I have to. But this week. No later. No later.”
“‘OK.’ And I held him tighter.
“Cat Ramsey. Wednesday, September 9.”