Page 104 of Look, Don't Touch

Astor’s face forms an O. “Fine!”

When she sets her drink on the coffee table between us, I know this is going to be good. When she covers her face with both hands, I know this will be a game changer.

“I just went to check it out.” Her words are muffled.

“Take your hands away from your face and talk to me like a big girl.”

Her hands come down, but I’m met with a glare.

“Good girl,” I purr.

“Shut up!” she shrieks.

I pin my lips between my teeth and make an X over them with two fingers while still holding my glass.

“I was curious.” Her chin goes up defiantly. “I’m twenty-seven and don’t know what I like in the bedroom or out. I’ve played it safe, been the actual good girl, not the naughty good girl, forever. I’m vanilla when I should at least be chocolate.” She gestures to her dark skin.

“Yes, I’ve given you a hard time about Crave, but not on the principle of kink. It was because you were purposely avoiding connection.” She props her legs on the arm of the oversized chair, lounging back on it sideways. Her gaze meets mine, and I nod, conceding. She studies the ceiling for a second. “I’m not into degradation or scat play or being tied to a table and banged or even spanked. I know what I don’t like.”

“You think you know what you don’t like,” I counter.

She pulls a face that almost makes me laugh. “I know I have a lot of sexual energy coursing through me at all hours with very little outlet. I’m in the city of limitless sexual opportunity, but I haven’t taken part because I’m…I don’t know what, exactly. Scared of not fitting in. Scared of standing out.”

“You were born a standout, Astor.” The girl came into the psych department a damn near baby. She’d graduated from high school early, then wrapped up her undergrad in record time. She probably ran circles around the snot-nosed kids in preschool.

Her head lolls toward me. “I was born not fitting in.”

My heart breaks for her.

“I have always been the good girl, the smart girl, the girl with big eyes, the younger girl, the skinny girl, the darker girl.”

“The smartest, period. The prettiest, period,” I offer.

Astor blows me a kiss. “I’ve done all the things I’m supposed to do. Now I need to figure out what I want to do.”

“I get it. You’ve always been the odd one out even though you’re the furthest from odd.” I scoot toward the edge of my seat. “So how was it?”

Her mouth drops open, and her hands come back to her face.

“Astor, your carpet is at stake.”

She rearranges herself on the chair and faces me with her legs tucked under her and her hands miraculously around her glass instead of her blushing cheeks. “Remember that letter of recommendation I had you write for me a few months ago?”

“Yes.”

“It was for Crave. I didn’t want to commit to a membership when I wasn’t sure I’d like it. So I needed five letters of recommendation instead of three. I held them for a few months, working up the courage to submit my application for an exploratory guide.”

I try my best not to make a face, but I’m busting at the seams. “A sex guide?”

“Not exactly, but maybe,” she squeaks out. “It’s more of an exposé for me to see all that the club has to offer, try out what I’m interested in, and go from there thing.”

“So when you try out what you’re interested in, will it be with your guide?”

“Could be. Could not be.” She grimaces. “It’s up to me.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Is it?” She snatches her glass and downs the rest in one long pull.

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