Page 35 of Endless Obsession

“A very hot guy who interrupted our lunch today. Tell them, Charlotte,” Jaz urges, and I’m more than happy to turn the subject to Ivan, and away from my experience at Masquerade. And either they’re so interested in him that they forget about it, or they picked up on how uncomfortable the topic made me, because they don’t ask about the club again.

I explain all about the lunch, and how he gave me his number after asking me out on an ‘actual date’ to ‘just dinner.’ I don’t tell them about how he took my phone out of my hand to put his number into it, because I already know how they’ll all react to it. Pretty much how I reacted at first.

And I don’t want anything to taint this. I know that part of this whole process of trying new things is not letting others’ opinions matter so much to me, but I don’t want any negativity around this. I want to go out on my first actual date since Nate broke my heart with all of my friends excited and happy for me.

I know they’d tell me that taking my phone out of my hand is a red flag. But they didn’t meet him and see the other things he did. The way he apologized for interrupting lunch. The way he flirted and teased and made sure to give me space to confirm the date on my own.

“Okay, this is perfect,” Sarah says enthusiastically, refilling her wine from the small half-carafe in front of her. “This is your first real date since that asshole broke your heart.”

My friends have tried very hard to avoid using Nate’s actual name when talking about him. It’s honestly endearing.

“And, it sounds like it’s with a real smoke show,” Sarah continues. “So this is fantastic. Is he the type you settle down with?” she adds, looking at me and then at Jaz.

I bite my lip, at the same moment, Jaz shakes her head.

“Nah. I mean, not Charlotte, anyway.” She grins at me, patting my hand. “I’m just saying, a super-tattooed bad boy is Charlotte’s rebound, not her future husband. And you shouldn’t be thinking of him like that right now, anyway. You shouldn’t think of anyone like that until you’ve had a chance to really get out there, you know?”

I nod, taking another sip of my wine. I know Jaz meant well, so I don’t want to let on how much that stung. I could tell her, maybe, if it was just the two of us, how something about what Nate did snapped something loose in me. How I don’t know if I want to be the ‘perfect’ one anymore, the one who is absolutely going to settle down with a golden retriever of a boyfriend instead of someone more interesting and edgy and mysterious. No one would think twice about Jaz or Zoe getting into a relationship with someone like Ivan.

Although, I do have to admit, none of us would believe that it would last with them, either.

“I definitely told him I’m not looking to be exclusive,” I tell them firmly. “And I’m not.”

“Good for you, girl.” Zoe tilts her glass in my direction. “Don’t let any man tie you down for a while. Find out what it’s like to be hot and single now that you’re totally independent and on your own.”

I roll that last statement around in my head, in the Uber on the way back to my apartment later, my thoughts a little fuzzy from the wine. Zoe was right about that—I haven’t been single since Nate, and that was my senior year of college. There’s a whole part of my adult life, my real adult life, where I’ve been committed to one person. There’s an entire world of dating that I haven’t gotten to experience, and my chance to do that is now.

My mind drifts back to the man at Masquerade. I can’t get him out of my head—his confidence, his utter assurance that I was what he wanted and no one else, his smooth British accent, and the way he touched me. The way he made me forget all my insecurities, all my anxieties.

The way he made me just feel.

My head falls back against the seat of the Uber, that warmth pooling through me again, an unfamiliar ache spreading over my skin, down into my veins. I always thought I didn’t really have much of a sex drive, but now I’m starting to wonder how much of that was me, and how much of it was the fault of the men I slept with. If I was so convinced that sex was boring and unfulfilling for me that I just turned it off, even though it had the potential to be so much better.

If I had my own membership to Masquerade, I’d be tempted to tell the Uber driver to take me there instead, just so I could see if the man from the other night was back again. Or maybe?—

I don’t have to be committed to him. The thought feels bold, startling. He was a one-night stand, not a new relationship. I’m free. If I went back to the club, I could sleep with anyone I wanted there. Do anything I wanted. Participate, or just watch?—

The thought of watching sends another flutter of heat through me. I swallow hard as the Uber driver pulls up to my building, and I slide out of the car, heels clicking against the lobby tile as I take the elevator up to my apartment.

My empty apartment. Where I can do and fantasize about whatever I want, now.

11

CHARLOTTE

As soon as I’m inside, tossing my keys in the porcelain dish, I go to pour myself another glass of wine as an idea takes shape in my head. I walk down the hall, unbuttoning my work shirt, slipping out of my clothes. I dig around in my upper drawer for a pair of loose cotton sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, my gaze straying again and again to the laptop sitting on my desk by the window.

Nothing about my outfit is sexy, but that doesn’t matter. I’m here alone. No one will bother me. And I can do something that I haven’t done in a very long time?—

I don’t usually watch porn. I’ve been absurdly reliant on one of a few trusty toys I have to get off over the years, when I have been in the mood and frustrated with the incompetence of men to get the job done. And when I do use them, I either look up erotic stories online or just fantasize in my head.

But I want something different tonight. I want to feel different.

Taking a deep breath, I sit down at my desk and open my laptop, taking a big gulp of my wine as I do. I don’t know why this feels so much riskier than any of the times I’ve read erotica or fantasized alone before, but it does. There’s nothing safe or vanilla about the things I want to look up tonight.

At first, I open a fairly well-known porn site, typing in masked man, and then a moment later, sex with a masked man. But after pulling up a few of the videos, it doesn’t give me the feeling I’m looking for.

It all feels so overproduced. Impersonal. It feels like watching actors, and that’s not what I want.

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