Page 2 of SnapShot

Just as I start to blindly obey, my bedroom door bursts open, followed by a surprised gaasp from my roommate, Kate.

“Shit. Sorry. Just came to see if you were still awake. Just letting you know I’m home. Carry on,” Kate says as she covers her eyes and backs out of the room.

This bitch and her impeccable timing. I’ll definitely be hounded about this later. Turning back to the screen, I try to regin my focus, but it’s lost.

“I’m sorry. My mentality is ruined now. There’s no way I’ll be able to get back into it. Call you later?”

“I’m sorry, too. You can count on it,” he assures with a crooked smile as I disconnect the call.

Time to get to work.

Opening the SnapShot app, I see one of my regular clients has requested another dominatrix pose and outfit. Classic. And I have the perfect bodysuit for it.

Using my crop whip that I stole from the barn, I pose in my faux leather outfit and catwoman-like mask, sporting the perfect black lipstick.

Satisfied with my work, I hit send so that I can afford the feed bill this month. Horses are expensive to keep fed, and I have three at the moment. It’s not like Grams had any life insurance to help settle her affairs when she left. Then again, no one expected her to die of cancer in her sixties.

When my phone dings, I naturally assume it’s a client. Imagine my surprise when it’s not.

Charlie: There are literally no words. What did I do to earn this? Because damn.

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

Obviously, we have sent nudes back and forth, but this is different. That picture wasn’t meant for him, and I’ve definitely never sent anything this kinky before.

What if he thinks I’m like some super freak now? Is he going to expect something like this when we finally meet face to face?

How am I going to explain this? How am I going to fix it?

Fuck. Well, I’ve had a good life. Now I’m just going to go crawl in a hole somewhere. Hopefully the coyotes find me and finish me off before I lose all sanity. Maybe they’ll make it quick. Painless.

This is a problem that can only be solved by one man. His name is Cactus Jack, and he always hits the right spot when mixed with some peach mango juice.

Putting my pajamas on and heading to the kitchen to make myself a tall glass of kill me now, my phone stays on the nightstand, powered off, leaving the message on read.

Ghosted

two

Ghosted

Charlie

The picture that Haedyn sent minutes ago is hard to look away from. God, she looks stunning. Elegant and powerful. The picture-perfect queen. We’ve been talking back and forth since we matched a few months ago on some hookup app. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to get on those things to actually hook up with your matches, like a one night stand kind of deal, but that’s not really my style.

I don’t think it’s Haedyn’s either, though, because she seemed super nervous to meet me in person. Hell, she’s still halfway shy over the phone, and it’s been over two months. Even tonight, coaxing her through phone sex, I could tell she was experimenting with something outside her comfort zone. Granted, I’m glad she feels comfortable enough with me to do so, but it just proves my suspicion that she wasn’t exactly looking for some rando to bang and then leave.

But if that’s true, then why hasn’t she responded to me? Maybe I pushed her too far. Though it’s not like I asked for the picture or the outfit. A rock falls into the pit of my stomach as a thought registers. The picture might not have been for me. I desperately hope that’s not the case because the way I’m starting to feel for her is too intense to let go so easily. She’s crawled beneath my skin and made a home there.

If she’s not feeling the same way that I am, I’ll be crushed. It’s only been since she and I started talking that I’ve been able to enjoy waking up again. My dad’s health has been declining rapidly over the last year since his stroke. He’s the reason that I became enraptured by the art of making food.

Growing up, he did most of the cooking. Mom couldn’t make toast without setting off the smoke detectors. Thank goodness Dad had a job where he could be home every night to make sure we didn’t starve. He always wanted to open up his own restaurant, but his dream didn’t become a reality until I graduated from culinary school and opened my first one, Bourbon & Beef, five years ago.

Dad was a godsend in getting the place up and running from developing the menu and even coming up with the name. I was fresh out of school, where I learned all about cooking but not much about starting and managing a business. You almost need two different degrees to do it successfully. His accounting degree came in handy working out the kinks of start up costs and whatnot.

Mom designed the whole look of both Bourbon & Beef and The Open Flame, putting her interior design degree to good use. She was well-known around Bossier City, LA where I grew up, and they still live. It’s only about a four-hour drive from here, so I can still keep in touch and visit as often as work permits.

I try to make it down that way at least a couple times a month, though it’s been a while since my last visit. Up until about thirty minutes ago, I was thinking it’d be a bit longer until I made it back to see them because my time would’ve been occupied by a certain brunette. The more time that passes without a response, I worry that she’s trying to ghost me, but I refuse to go down without a fight.

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