Running a hand over my breast, I play with my hardening nipple through my thin baby tee. I think back to the dirty novel I’d been reading before I went to bed. I’m turned on and I need release. In the book the hero had been aggressive and demanding, the way Carter always was. No, not Carter, never Carter. Pushing him to the back of my mind, I try to imagine Justin as the hero of the story. He is my boyfriend, after all; it should be his face I’m picturing.

He pushed her up against the wall, his front to her back. He was sliding his hand under her skirt, taking what was his. Sliding my own hand between my thighs and under my white silk panties, I push my lips apart and stroke my clit. I work my hips against my fingers and try to picture Justin taking me with such force. The most force he’s ever exercised in our relationship is when we try to pick a wine to pair with dinner. Never mind that I hate wine and all the fancy restaurants he insists I go to.

Getting nowhere with my fantasy of Justin, Carter’s face comes to mind again. He never seems to be far away. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to push him out of my mind, doesn’t matter that it’s been four years since I last saw his face, doesn’t matter that I hate him. Just picturing him shoving me up against a wall, flipping up my skirt, ripping my panties away, thrusting into me and growling that I’m his makes me instantly wet.

I can feel the orgasm coming now, or at least I think I do. What with the way my best friend Jeanette describes them, I’m not sure I’ve ever really had one. When she gives me details of her latest fling she makes it sound like having an orgasm is the greatest thing ever. Going from her reports, I think my vagina is broken or at least seriously faulty.

Pulling my hand out of my panties, I glance at the clock and notice I still have ten minutes before I need to get up and get ready for work. I’ll be damned if I lie in bed masturbating to thoughts of Carter having me. He doesn’t want me and I won’t be giving him my orgasm. I would rather go without than get off thinking of him.

I fling the comforter back and flip on the nightstand light before making my way to the closet. My house is a small, two-bedroomed bungalow that sits right on the edge of Reno. I used the cash I took from my father’s safe to buy it. It’s not much but it’s mine. I didn’t want to use all the money I stole in case I have to run again but it’s nice to have a place to call my own. Home.

One thing I’ve loved most about my freedom from my father is a life of my own. I come and go as I please, eat whatever I want and, most importantly, wear what I like. This new-found freedom shows in my closet. Two things I’ll never give up are my dirty books and my shoe collection. I know it sounds silly but my shoes gave me some confidence when I started my new life. I never thought I was unattractive and I love my curves, but Carter took a shot at my self-belief. I’ve always been short at just over five feet and I have to strain my neck to look at most men, so a sexy pair of high heels gives me a boost in every way. I rock my heels as tall as they come because I don’t want to have to look up to a man. Any man.

Grabbing a pair of plum-purple high-waisted slacks, a cream button-up blouse and a pair of four-inch heels, I get ready in the bathroom. It doesn’t take me long because I don’t wear a ton of makeup, but I like to do a little something to my eyes. With bright-red hair it’s hard to wear certain shades and not look like a clown. My silky hair doesn’t take much to manage—a little brushing and some pins and it’s all set. To finish off, I swipe on some pink lip gloss to bring out the cream of my skin. As I put the tube back in the cabinet, the name of the shade catches my eye: ‘cherry blossom pink’. I growl in frustration and throw the half-empty container in the trash. That bastard seems to follow me wherever I go.

Shaking off my momentary rush of anger, I go to the kitchen and grab a banana muffin and coffee before I head to the library to start my shift. I was so excited when I landed the job there. It’s a public library but the local high school uses it as its library as well. My favorite part of working there is getting to work with the kids. It makes me feel like I’m making a little difference in the world. It might not be much but it means a lot to me.

I was sure I would have to work at a diner or something. I didn’t really have much of an education to begin with—just some online classes—but Jeanette, the head librarian, hired me on the spot. Because of my lack of formal education, my only real skill is playing the piano, and I haven’t had the luxury of playing much since I left. I sneak over to the high school a few times a week during my lunch break to use the piano they have in the music department. The music teacher Mr. Hall is always trying to get me to help out and play for some of the school concerts, but they sometimes make the papers and that just isn’t a risk I could take.

I thought about buying a piano of my own when I got my house. I even made sure that my living room had the space for one, but I didn’t want to eat into my emergency money. It was worth the sacrifice to be free.

I hear my cell ring, already knowing who it is. I pick it up without looking at the incoming number.

“Morning, Jeanette,” I say.

“Morning, chica,” she purrs into the phone. “What’s his name?”

“Stephen, I believe.”

“How was he?” she asks, playing our normal game of ‘who did Layla sleep with last night?’

“Too alpha and demanding for my taste,” I lie, knowing that I loved every second of Stephen’s brute ways in the novella I devoured last night. I reason that if I keep telling myself that this kind of man doesn’t turn me on, then maybe it will come true. I need a man like my boyfriend, Justin. He’s sweet, passive for the most part, and probably pays his bills two weeks before they’re due. If only I could get my body and vagina to agree with my head. I really need to break up with him. I’ve been avoiding him for days and even canceled a few of our dates. I’m not even sure he’s into me. He never really tries to make a move on me and doesn’t seem to care when I do cancel on him. I often wonder why he’s even with me.

“Anything has got to be better than Justin, if you ask me,” Jeanette says, reading my mind.

“Enough about my boring, sexless life. Tell me about your amazing night,” I say cheekily, knowing she’ll spill all the dirty details while I live vicariously through her. Jeanette has been trying to get this intimidating guy who’s been hanging around the library for weeks to ask her out. Finally he cracked. I thought he seemed kind of weird. Okay, maybe not weird but out of place. He’s a giant of a man, not as big as I remember Carter being, but he looks like he could hold his own against a few guys if he needed to. He has a scar that runs from his eyebrow down to his cheek, looking like it barely missed his eye. His raven hair and tanned skin contrast starkly with his clear blue eyes. When I first saw him, I thought his eyes looked strange with the dangerous feel he had going on. But the first time I saw Jeanette make him smile, his entire demeanor suddenly shifted and became as light and bright as his eyes.

He’s always popping up and never once has he checked out a book. He has an edge to him. The kind of edge I’m attuned to, seeing as I grew up around men like that. I was keeping my distance, but Jeanette went after him like a cat in heat. She likes bad boys. She says they’re just looking for a quick fling and you never have to worry about them wanting something permanent. I’m not sure the guy knows what to do with her. If Jeanette is anything, she’s straightforward and to the point. It’s something I’ve always loved and admired about her. She might want to be more careful with him, though. He seems like the type of man that if he wanted to keep her, she wouldn’t have much of a choice.

“Fucker canceled,” she grumbles.

“I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to that date. Maybe we could have dinner tonight to cheer you up?” I don’t want her to be upset. I can tell by her tone she’s a little hurt which isn’t normal for ‘love them and leave them’ Jeanette.

“Dinner and drinks at the Kat House and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

I knew she was going to bring up the Kat House, a little dive bar that sits right outside of Reno.

“Come on! Not that Kat House! That place is,” I scrunch my nose as I try to think of the right word.

“Horny?” Jeanette offers. I can see her doing her classic eyebrow wiggle when she talks about anything “horny” and I can’t help but smile.

“That’s one way to put it,” I say, trying to sound appalled. The Kat House is a dream bar for Jeanette. Cheap drinks, it’s filled with bad boys, and sometimes I think its dress code veers towards ‘clothing optional’. I’m more of a piano bar kind of girl. I stumbled across one a few years back and loved it. A cute sundress with some higher-than-high heels and a few martinis while I listen to music that doesn’t make my head want to explode—perfect.

“Justin must be wearing off on you, Lays, because you’re starting to sound like a snot.”

I shudder slightly when I thinking of anything of Justin’s rubbing off on me and I cave to her suggestion, wanting to change the subject. And besides, she always lets me pick and I want to do this for her.

“Fine, I’ll bring a change of clothes and we can leave from work.” I let out a dramatic sigh and adopt a weary tone. “And go to drinks at the Kat House.”

Jeanette starts letting out hoots and hollers. I can see her in my head, dancing around her studio apartment.

“Don’t bring any clothes. I’ve got you. Maybe if I get you all dolled up tonight and looking like one extra sexy bitch you can finally live up to your name, Lays.”

Rolling my eyes at the nickname Jeanette gave me forever ago, I agree, only to get her off the phone so I can go ahead and pack an extra set of clothes. Jeanette gave me my nickname when I started working at the library and we became friends. At first I thought it was just a cute abbreviation of my name, but soon I found out it was because I never get laid.

I guess after watching me shoot down date request after date request, she figured I wasn’t getting any. And of course she was right. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get any—God, did I want to get some! I just hadn’t found anyone who piqued my interest. Needless to say, I wasn’t going to date one of the teachers who were always at the library. No way was I mixing my two worlds. I had already learned that lesson the hard way. It was because of that I had to start my life over, and I didn’t want to do it again. My life is good here. It might still be lonely, but at least the people around me express emotion.

Maybe the romance novels have me jaded. I always thought my first and only would be Carter. I know now that’s not happening so I’ve been trying to move on, but not one person has sparked even a fraction of the feelings I had for him. Who am I kidding? Feelings I have for him is more like it. No matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I push, it still ends up back with him. It pisses me off. I started this new life to move forward but most of the time I feel like I’m just going in circles.

Maybe it’s time I stopped living in my books and pushed myself harder. A sexy night at the Kat House could be just what I need. Let loose and live a little. It’s why I came here, isn’t it? To be free. Maybe even a little wild. I should just get my first time over with. Just rip it off like a Band-Aid. I need to take a page from Jeanette’s book and have a no-strings, sex-filled night, aided by a little liquid courage.

It’s odd I’ve never even thought about doing it with Justin. I enjoyed the easiness of our relationship. I’m comfortable around him and that makes me feel safe for some reason. I know he can’t hurt me emotionally and I know if he ever dumped me or moved on I would pull through easily enough. I would miss his friendship but it wouldn’t be a love lost.

We’ve gotten hot and heavy a few times but I always pull back. Just when things start to go to the next level, I push him away. I’m going to have to meet him for lunch and end things. It’s not right leading him on when I don’t think this can go anywhere. I know he wanted the whole marriage and babies thing because we’ve talked about it before. I want that too, but I want it with a man I can’t live without. A part of me loves that Justin is so laid-back and doesn’t push me, but another, bigger part of me thinks I can’t keep going on like this. Maybe I should take the coward’s way out and just send an e-mail…no, I can’t do that.

Glancing back at the clock, I see I need to get a move on so I’m not late for work. I grab my work bag and head out the door without packing a bag for tonight. If I want to start making changes, maybe it won’t be so bad to see what Jeanette has planned for me. If I don’t pack a bag then at least I’ll have to wear what she brings, and there will be no backing out.

When I get to work, the day seems to fly by with seemingly endless groups of students and reading sessions. I try to set up a lunch date to meet with Justin but he tells me he’s too busy with work and that we’ll talk later. After clearing out the last bunch of students and locking up the library for the day, Jeanette drags me into the bathroom for a quick make-over.

She puts me in a black minidress and I protest that everyone can see my underwear if I bend over. Her only suggestion is that I should take them off. Well then, I guess I’ll just risk people seeing my underwear because ditching my panties is not an option. The dress fits me like a second skin and I feel totally exposed.

We leave our cars at the library and grab a taxi to a local steakhouse. Jeanette has somehow snagged us a last-minute reservation and we’re swiftly seated. Having skipped lunch to play the piano over at the high school, I’m starving and hope that the steak I’m about to devour will fit into this dress with me.

All through dinner I fidget with the dress. The only thing that makes me feel comfortable is my footwear—five-inch spiked heels. They’re the only things that feel like me, at least. I’m going to have to sneak to the bathroom before we head to the Kat House and maybe tone down the make-up Jeanette put on me. I swear my dark-red lipstick is screaming “I love to suck cock. Does anyone have one I can use?”

“Stop fidgeting, Lays,” Jeanette admonishes, taking a long sip of her cosmo. “You look sexy as all fuck.”

Maybe that’s the key, I think, grabbing my own cosmo and shooting it back. I need to relax and enjoy myself. I relish the burn and buzz of the alcohol but something is bothering me. I’m not sure if I’m fidgety because of the dress or because I feel like someone is watching me. I’ve had the feeling for a few weeks now, but lately it’s been constant. I can’t help but think my father has found me. I’ve done my best to hide my tracks using a few tricks I learned from the boys back home. I kept my first name but I thought it would be hard for people to track me with just that alone. I considered dyeing my hair to change my look when I first ran away. My red hair always seems to attract attention, but whenever I looked in the mirror it reminded me of my mother. She might have been a shit mom but it made me feel a little bit closer to her.

I always thought it was a matter of time until someone found me—either my father or someone looking to use me against him. That’s the reason my father says he kept me so tightly locked away. He did it because he has so many enemies who could use me as leverage against him. As the years have passed, nothing has happened and I’ve started to think he either gave up or he just didn’t care enough to find me. Maybe he even thought it was for the best I was gone.

“Sorry! I just feel like a slut,” I say, tugging my hem down my thigh once more.

“Hey bitchness, that’s my dress you’re wearing,” Jeanette responds, giving me a little smirk.

“Yeah, but it looks longer on your skinny ass whereas my size twelve sucks up some of the important ass-covering length.”

Jeanette snorts and sips at her drink. She’s the definition of beautiful. She’s the picture in your head when you hear the word ‘model’—long, flowing, perfectly tousled blonde hair, sun-kissed skin that makes her aquamarine eyes almost glow. She makes men take notice when she walks into a room. She looks wholesome and sweet when she’s dressed casually, but tonight she’s done up like she’s about to pound the runway. I’m not sure how she pulls off that tiny waist because the girl could out-eat me any day of the week. Some girls get all the luck.

“Nothing wrong with showing a little slut now and again, Lays. It’s good for you. What do you think Justin would say if he could see you right now?”

I know if Justin saw me like this he would probably give me a scolding about what is and isn’t appropriate attire. I hear it about my shoes on the regular from him. I could be covered from neck to ankle and he would say my shoes were too suggestive. No way was I giving up the shoes. This should have been a red flag months ago and nipped us in the ass. He and Jeanette never really got along either. She thinks there’s something slimy about him and always loves to give him a quick jab about something or other. It’s gotten so bad that I don’t ever invite them to the same events anymore. They’re like oil and water—it’s just never going to work.

“It doesn’t really matter what Justin thinks. I was planning on ending it today, but he couldn’t meet me for lunch to give me the chance.”

“Oh shit! So you’re a single bitch tonight! Just when I didn’t think this day could get any better. You and me, both single and heading to the Kat House. Lays, it’s going to be one kickass night,” she chirps giddily, a giant smile on her face.

“Hate to burst the bubble but didn’t you hear when I said I didn’t get to break up with him?”

Snatching my phone from the table, she fiddles with it for a moment before dropping it back down.

“Well now you have,” she says with a grin.

“No, you didn’t!” I exclaim and grab my phone. Yep. She did it. She sent a text to Justin: “Sorry, this isn’t working.” She even added a winky face at the end. I don’t know why I’m shocked.

“A winky face? Really?”

“Hey, just trying to soften the blow a little. I felt like a winky face could do that,” she says, nodding as if this is a known fact. “Lays, really, Justin being out of your life is a good thing. He wasn’t the right fit for you and I’m telling you something weird is up with him.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him,” I reply.

“No, I’m saying that because the man has a stick up his ass, but can’t seem to get his own stick into you.”

I blush because the elderly couple sitting at the table next to us begins staring at us in shock. Jeanette gives them a wink.

“I’m just not ready yet,” I whisper, hoping not to draw more attention to us.

“Lays, come on now. You’re twenty-four years old. The problem is he isn’t working for you. You two have been together for over a year. A year. If you still haven’t given it up to him by now you’re not going to. So let it go.”

I know she’s right. It’s time to move on and try something different. Staying with him just because he can’t hurt me is actually hurting me. Sometimes not caring is just as bad as caring.

“I know. I wish I could be more like you.”

“Gotta look at men like I do, Lays. They’re only good for one thing, and 90% of the time I either have to tell them how to do it or finish the job myself.”

Rolling my eyes, I motion for the waiter to bring another round. I notice a man dressed in all black staring at us as he leans up against the bar and that uneasy feeling returns.

“Hey, let’s finish this round and head out,” I say, glancing back to see if the man is still staring. He is.

“Sounds like a great plan to me,” Jeanette replies and stands up. “Just going to head to the bathroom to touch up my make-up and we can head out.”

I look down at my phone and notice Justin hasn’t texted back. Either he doesn’t care or he’s too busy. Story of my life. It seems like all the men in my life don’t care if I’m gone. Grabbing my fresh cocktail, I chug it down and feel it warm my throat. Maybe that will help me loosen up tonight.