“So, Prynne Dawson, secret exhibitionist.”

She frowns around the French fry in her mouth and bites down. “What’s an exhibitionist?”

I stare at her, bewildered. She really is a babe in the woods. “Someone who does what you just did.”

I’ve ordered room service at her behest. Apparently, masturbating for the public eye works up an appetite. It’s probably for the best, maybe it will soak up some of that champagne still in her system. I’m still wary about how she’ll feel come morning and the last thing I need is a hangover tainting her opinion of the matter. I have enough experience with Monday morning quarterbacking from women. One in particular. Even under the seemingly secure umbrella of stone-cold sobriety, I know how easily a man can get drenched in a perfect shitstorm. Meghan hadn’t had a drop to drink when she completely fucked up my world.

It’s an encouraging sign that Prynne has yet to get dressed again. She’s taken over the bed, wrapping the sheets around her like a Greek goddess. I’ve tactfully remained clothed. Considering her enthusiasm tonight, there will be plenty of time for a duet performance another night. The thought of it is enough to make me involuntarily perform my own show right now.

Her frown deepens and she throws the other half of the fry back onto the plate in front of her. “Is that what they call it? You make it sound like some sort of weird kink.”

“It’s a kink alright, whether or not it’s weird depends on your perspective.”

She considers that around another fry she picks up to put in her mouth. With a guarded look on her face, she glances my way. “Why do you do it?”

“I like being naked.”

“There’s a difference between being naked and...” she looks beyond me to the windows where the curtains are still wide open.

“Okay, I like being naked with the thought that someone is watching me,” I say with a grin.

“Why, though?” she prods, her fry now all but forgotten.

“Does anyone ever know why they’re into certain things?” I say with a shrug. I raise an eyebrow at her. “Why are you into it?”

She quickly averts her eyes, suddenly interested in her half-eaten hamburger again. She picks it up and shoves it in her mouth with a shrug.

I laugh. “Oh no you don’t. There’s something going on here and now I’m damn curious. Who are you Prynne Dawson?”

She just chews and gives me a petulant little pout.

“Let’s start with why the curtains don’t match the carpet.”

Her face wrinkles in confusion and she mumbles something that sounds like “huh?”

“You dye your hair blonde. Well…” my eyes fall down to where the sheet has sunken into the area between her crossed legs, “at least some of your hair.”

Her face almost matches the color of the dollop of ketchup on her plate as she sets the burger down again.

“I get it. Plenty of girls like to go blonde. Apparently they have more fun,” I say with a devilish wink.

“Exactly,” she says, straightening her shoulders and exhaling a sigh of relief so subtle I almost miss it. The question was meant to be innocuous, but now my interest is piqued.

“But I suspect there’s more to it with you,” I say, giving her a thoughtful look.

“Well, there isn’t,” she replies in a testy voice.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me your secrets.”

“There are no secrets!” she protests throwing up her hands in exasperation. Which now makes me think there definitely are, specifically having to do with her dyed hair. Interesting.

“Everyone has secrets.”

“Oh yeah? So what are yours?”

“They wouldn’t be secrets if I told you, would they?” I say with a playful grin.

She returns a reluctant grin of her own.

“So, you’re going to be an aunt?” I say, changing the topic.

From the expression on her face, the grin disappearing as quickly as it appeared, family is even more treacherous territory. Perhaps even related. If I’m honest with myself, there’s definitely a connection between my “kink” and my own family dynamics.

“I’m going to be an aunt!” she says in that same chirpy tone she used in the restaurant. She picks up the hamburger, which looks decidedly less appetizing than it did when it first arrived.

“You sound excited.”

“You sound sarcastic,” she retorts, taking a vicious bite.

“Is this another secret?”

“What could possibly be secret about family?” she says, or at least that’s what it sounds like around the food in her mouth. She swallows hard, wincing in pain as the chunk goes down her throat. “I have a twin sister, she’s pregnant. End of story.”

“No jealousy?” I prod, pushing the most obvious button.

She laughs in such a relaxed way, I know I’ve missed the mark. “No jealousy. I mean, I want kids. Eventually.” Her hamburger hangs in the air as she looks down at the bed. “It’s just that, where I come from, marriage and kids is the be all, end all. I wanted something more. My only regret is that I know she waited for me. Twenty-three is practically middle age for having kids where I come from.”

“Really?” I ask, suddenly interested.

Her eyes flit up to me in surprise as though suddenly realizing I’m still there. There’s a moment where she decides how much to tell me, then shrugs, apparently deciding this is safe enough territory. She sets the hamburger down and leans back on the headboard, the sheet firmly wrapped around her like a strapless gown. “Growing up we were close. Maybe I was the more adventurous one—”

“You don’t say,” I interrupt with a grin.

She wrinkles her nose at me and smiles. “But we still did almost everything together. Back then we would always talk about doing everything at the same time, even walking down the aisle in a double wedding. Maybe both of us having twins at the same time, which was a possibility—there are three sets of twins among all of us—and then our kids would—”

“Wait, what?” I ask, as what she said registers in my brain. “You mean to tell me you have two more sets of twins in your family? As in brothers and sisters? How many siblings do you have?”

Her face goes ashen as she stares at me in shock. I’m still wrapping my head around this idea of having three sets of twins in a single family. How many brothers and sisters total does she have? As a single child I can’t even imagine what that would be like.

“Actually, I should get going.”

My attention snaps back to the woman on the bed. I’m dumbstruck as I watch her push the plate of half eaten food aside and slide across the sheets, still clutching the covers to her chest.

“Wait, what just happened here?” I protest, watching her with a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s getting late and I’m sure Shiloh is probably wondering—”

“No, that isn’t it. I said something to upset you and I want to know what it is.”

She gives me a pleading look as she yanks the sheet from underneath the bedspread and drapes it around her body. “Nothing, really. It was a fun night, really. Thank you. The dress, the dinner, this. It was a great birthday. It’s just so late and—I just need to go.”

“It’s Saturday and we have the room for the night.”

She blinks at me in surprise, and I laugh at the absurdity of what she must thinking. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything with you. I think you’ve had enough new experiences tonight.”

Now her cheeks are inflamed.

Shit.

“What the heck does that mean?” she asks, glaring hard at me.

“Nothing,” I say placidly.

“No, you think….you think that… You know what? Never mind.” She shakes her head in frustration and stomps over to the window to collect her clothes. She pauses to stare out the window at the city beyond, perhaps remembering what happened less than an hour ago. Then she shakes her head and continues on.

“Prynne, don’t go like this,” I say in my most calmly appeasing voice, the voice that usually works wonders. What the hell did I even say to bring this on? I wrack my brain trying to find the part where I slipped up, while she ignores my plea and grabs the dress and underwear.

Without saying a word, she walks past me to the bathroom, which is ridiculous because it’s perfectly visible through the glass. There’s a pause where she considers me for a moment, before realizing that I’ve already seen everything. She sighs and drops the sheet so she can get dressed.

Under any other circumstances, I’d be admiring the view. Hell, even under these circumstances I admire it. That contrasting thatch of dark hair nestled between her thighs is quickly covered by the thong underwear she slides up her legs. That lacy, black piece was interesting, considering how perfectly wholesome Prynne otherwise seemed. Then again, after tonight, maybe not so wholesome after all. Her breasts, slightly more than a handful, vibrate as she shimmies back into the dress I bought her. I admire my choice as she zips it back up, causing it to cling to her curves once again.

“So we can’t just forget about whatever I said or did and move on to another topic?” I ask, my arms folded across my chest as I rise up to approach her.

“I’ve already said too much,” she mutters as she grabs the shoes she removed earlier and walks over to sit in the same chair I was in while she performed in front of the window.

What the heck does that mean?

I watch her struggle with the straps of her shoes, which are about as complicated as bondage knots. It’s obvious these aren’t her own shoes as she mutters to herself in frustration.

“Let me,” I insist, walking over and keeling at her feet.

“I’ve got it,” she says, blinking at me in surprise.

“No, you obviously don’t,” I say tersely. I rescue one of the straps from her hands and begin wrapping it around her ankle the way it’s supposed to go. Being open-minded and much more experienced, I do have some experience with bondage, even though it isn’t my particular thing.

I hear her swallow above me. “Thanks,” she says softly.

I work in silence, re-buckling both shoes around Prynne’s ankles which are tense underneath my fingers. There’s no point in more protest, since she’s obviously made up her mind to go. No means no, and all that jazz. It’s still frustrating. I thought we were off to a good start. Certainly one of the better first dates I’ve had. Prynne seemed to be enjoying herself as well, relaxing into the evening, even talking about her family.

Family. That’s what we were talking about when the mood finally shifted. I suppose I can sympathize.

“I’ll get an Uber and take you home,” I say, rising back up.

“I can take the subway.”

“You’re not taking the subway looking like that, especially at this time of night.” It comes out harsh, almost angrily paternal.

Prynne swallows, looking up at me with wide eyes before nodding. “Okay.”

The ride back to her place is in silence. Thankfully, the air between us isn’t filled with animosity. More like a mix of confusion, self-reproach, and contemplation.

When we finally get to the row house she lives in, I walk her to the front door. Prynne turns to me, now with a genuine smile on her face.

“I did have a good time. It was,” an excited gleam comes to her eye, “fun. And thanks so much for the dress, and the champagne and the dinner and—”

“You’re welcome,” I say with a laugh, letting go of any lingering frustration. Whatever cloud there was over that last part of the night has evaporated.

She gives me a slight giggle, then reaches up on her toes, a necessity even in those heels, and plants a chaste peck on my cheek.

If she thinks I’m ending the night on that timid note, she’s sorely mistaken. No first date should end without a proper kiss.

Just as she turns away to unlock the door, I pull her back in to face me. The porch light glows in her hazel eyes making her look like a startled cat. As I pull her in closer they narrow into slits that are nothing more than lashes. But it’s her mouth I’m focused on. I find it with mine, enjoying the first feel of it.

Yes, it has the unfortunate taste of hamburger and fries and coke and lingering champagne, but everything else makes up for that. The feel of her body in that tight dress as my hands slide across the smooth fabric. The vibration of her chest against mine as she moans with pleasure. The way her still-disheveled hair brushes against my cheek. Most of all, the way her mouth follows my lead, opening up on command and dancing according to the rhythm I’ve set.

I can still feel the slight prickle on my cheek where these same lips pecked it. It’s like an extra cherry on top of this sundae I’m enjoying with gluttonous delight. Prynne is like a treat I should be savoring with slow appreciation, but I can’t help wanting to devour whole. Sugary sweet, wholesome, mouthwatering goodness.

When I finally pull away, I stare down at her with a devil-may-care grin. She stares back breathless and wide-eyed again, this time looking like a cat that lapped the entire bowl of cream completely clean.

The feel of her lingers as she speechlessly turns to unlock the door and walk in. With one last dazzling smile my way, she closes the door. I stare back at it with a grin.

Welcome to the fun side, Prynne.