It takes a few hours, but I eventually calm myself down. When he doesn’t text me back, I send a question mark to him. He reads it, but doesn’t reply. “That bastard,” I whisper to myself, as I stretch out on my bed. After a couple more hours pass, I finally get a reply. It says, “Dinner this week with my family. You’re invited if you want to go.”

I quickly reply, “Did you not read what I wrote earlier? I said we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” What the heck?

“I read it,” he types, “but I’m choosing to ignore it. I have too much fun with you.”

Maybe I should be happy with what he’s telling me, but I’m not. I don’t want to just be someone’s plaything. I want to be adored. I want to be respected. I am not just some hole for him to use.

“So you have fun with me. So what? You’ll find someone else to have fun with,” I text back.

Immediately, the phone buzzes against my lap. I groan and slam my back against the mattress again. Why are men so insufferable sometimes? They just do not give up. “Why won’t you let me get to know you better?” he asks me.

I sit, dumbfounded, holding my phone. I squeeze my thumbs against the screen, trying to think of an answer besides the truth. I’m scared. But I can’t let him know that. I need to come off as stronger than I am. The major problem is that he did take my virginity and now I feel so damn foolish for liking him so much.

“Because it’s wrong,” I type. “I’m way younger than you. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

He knows me better than to believe what I’m saying. Even as I hit the send button, I feel the truth sink in. I like that he’s older than me. Of course I do. The moment I saw him, I knew I wanted him. He knows this better than I do. “Bullshit,” he sends. “You love it and I know it.”

“What makes you say that?” I text him.

“I made you cum harder than you’ve ever came before. I know you can’t live without me and I can’t wait to see you again,” he says. “Take my words and view them whichever way you want to. I’ve said my piece. I want to see you again. I want to feel you again. I want to take you again.”

My body grows warm. I set the phone down and breathe deeply. I gulp down, as my heart pounds against my chest. “Fuck,” I mutter. Why am I playing these games? Why don’t I just accept the reality that we want each other? Maybe it really is that simple.

Then the phone starts to ring, causing me to jump out of my bed and pace around the room. Of course I have to answer the damn thing. I do, but I don’t issue the greeting he wants. “This is easier,” he says. “Plus, I want to hear your voice. It’s been too long.”

“You’re too cocky,” I tell him. “You think you can get whatever you want. Well, you can’t. Life doesn’t work that way and I want to just be left alone.”

“Stop it, Olivia. I’m not asking that much of you,” he says.

“Yes, you are,” I reply.

“I’m asking you to be honest. Is that so hard?” he asks.

I look out of my window and watch as the cars pass by the darkened streets. I think about my future and what’s in store. Growing up and leaving college always seemed like the best thing in the world. Now, I’m not so sure

“Sometimes giving into every whim and desire isn’t the best choice you can make. I think we’ve had our fun,” I tell him.

“One more time,” he says. “Just one more time.”

“One time is never enough,” I tell him. “I know how this goes.”

But I’m already caving for him. I’m already feeling his warm hands grip around my body. “When is the last time you’ve been to the doctor?” he asks me.

“That’s besides the point, isn’t it?” I ask him.

“Not really, actually.” I can picture him smiling, leaning against the doorway to my kitchen. I can see his swagger as he walks toward me, as he hungers for me. I hunger for him. I fall to my knees and look up at him, so tall and strong. I yearn for that interaction with him. I just don’t want to be left in the dust like so many other women.

“I haven’t been in at least three years,” I admit.

“Time for a checkup,” he laughs.

“Don’t get gross,” I warn him.

I can hear his boots click against the ground. What is he wearing right now? I wonder. Is he wearing a nice Italian suit, complete with gold cufflinks? Or is he wearing his blue surgeon outfit? Or maybe he’s wearing nothing at all.

“You love it,” he says. “Admit it. You’re more disgusting than I am. It just takes a little prodding.”

“You like to prod me, don’t you?” I ask him. My body loosens up as a fucked-up smile forms across my face. I’m a bad girl. I’m the worst there is. I can hear his heavy breathing, mouth pressed against the cold receiver, lips touching the holes of communication. I can imagine those same lips pressed against mine, as I give a slight protest. “You like that I’m innocent. You want to tame me. No, you want to taint me.”

“You’ve already been tainted.” The words come out harsh and brittle. They hit my eardrum and dissolve away, almost as if they never existed. But they do, and he’s right as ever.

“Maybe,” I whisper. “Maybe not.”

“Are you touching yourself right now?” he asks me. The static language funneled into my phone makes me wonder if our words don’t exist forever in those satellites up above. Maybe our desires hold true in the stratosphere, always preserved in milky-white space debris. I look down and my fingernails are dragging across my inner thigh. The tips of my fingers tickle my lips. I’m wet. Always wet for Dr. James Mason.

“No,” I tell him.

“Liar,” he replies back, almost instantaneously. “I know who you are, deep down.”

“Deep down?” I smile and move my hand over my clit. I press down, firm, until I feel the pressure increase. I let go and repeat the process. There’s something about keeping things at bay, with a slight increase, only to know that in just a few minutes, you could explode, taking down everything around you.

“Deep down. Past that short, plaid skirt of yours. Past your perfectly clean panties. I know what you want. You want me. You want to be owned,” he says.

“And you want to own me. Don’t you?” I ask him.

“You’re damn right I do,” he says. “I want to own every bit of you. From those gorgeous lips of yours down to your tight pussy.”

“But there’s something you never anticipated,” I say. My fingers press firmly against my clit again. I move them around and around, until I feel the pleasure thicken. Then, I release again, only to be forced to take in a deep breath.

“Oh yeah? And what is that?” he asks.

“I know my worth. I know most men would kill to have a night with me,” I tell him. “So you’re going to need to get some leverage.”

There’s a strange silence. He takes it all in and then chuckles to himself. “You’re right. This poses a dilemma for me,” he says. “But I’m not as bad a guy as you think I am. At least, I won’t be that bad to you. Tomorrow. I’ll take you out somewhere nice, like I promised. And when we’re full, I’ll take you home so you can study.”

“Fine,” I say. “No sex. This is just a nice dinner date. You really think you’ll be able to handle yourself?”

“I’ll have to try,” he says.

“This is your final,” I laugh.

“If I fail the test, you can stop talking to me. But I’m not going to fail,” he says.

“You really think your willpower is strong enough?” I ask him.

“I do,” he whispers.

“Well then. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?” I ask him.

“7 PM. I’ll come pick you up,” he says.

“Okay, doctor. See you then,” I say. “Bye bye.”

I hang up the phone and lay across my bed, sexually frustrated and exhausted. I can’t help but deny that I think about him all of the damn time, even if it is against my best interest. And I can’t help but feel excited for our little date tomorrow. I still don’t know what I’m going to do in the long run, but for now, I’m stuck in the game. Of course, I’m loving every second of it.