Page 25 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

"I've never—" Lucy shakes, snuggling closer. Sometimes even simple acts are the most overwhelming and emotional. She's never been with more than one person. Maybe she's never come that hard. We're in a public place. She and I haven't been okay for a while. It's a lot to take in.

But Lucy doesn't calm down. I can feel her tightening up, shutting us out. The guys give me worried looks, but I don't know what to tell them, I'm worried too.

I'm afraid it was a mistake. That she regrets it.

More than that, I'm worried she's not okay. The guys hand me her things, and I help her get dressed. She stays close to me, never letting go, clinging to my arms.

Lucy buries her face in my chest as we make our way out of the club. On the way out the door, I pull up the Uber app and order a ride, which comes a few minutes later, and I take Lucy home.

I hoped, with how she's feeling, she'd want me to stay. I'm fucked up and gutted when she asks me to leave, closing our shared apartment door in my face.

I've ruined fucking everything.

Chapter 10

Lucy

JennaBee08372 comments: I'm so proud of @WaywardDelaney for being so brave. Not a lot of people would have the courage to be this honest. Good for her. And fuck Lucy for making her feel so shitty

AlwaysLateKate comments: @ZenInTheCity is a toxic troll, you don't need her @WaywardDelaney !

ghhrrrlno comments: @ZenInTheCity you should consider drowning yrslf. No, srsly. Ur content is garbage and ur a waste of space

B00nary69 comments: dingdong the bitch is… missing? Come on @WaywardDelaney, give us more!

Mateo's called twelve times since last night. Ten before I finally texted him back, telling him I was fine I just needed a little space. He saidokaybut then called back an hour later and once more just five minutes ago.

I'm fine. Truly, I'm fine.

Shaking, tired, exhausted. A little bit terrified, a larger bit exhilarated, but overall, fine.

My brain feels like it's been pulled in seven different directions. Everything that happened last night tested my entire sense of self. It never occurred to me that being with more than one person was something I might be interested in. On top ofthat, it was the most intense sexual experience of my life, and it shattered and rebuilt me in ways I wasn't prepared for.

It was an incredible feeling to be the sole focus of Mateo, Noah, and Silas; being stripped, held down, and pleasured like that.

But after the intense pleasure subsided, after the silence and stillness settled in, I was just sitting alone in a room with two strangers and a man I thought I knew.

I thought I knew myself, too, but last night I realized I don't think I know myself at all. I don't know where to go from here. I don't know what happens next.

I thought I had this fantasy of being forced, hurt, held down. Now I'm aware of new desires and possibilities, other ideas are creeping in, and I'm honestly not sure what to think of any of it.

I'm tempted to open my social accounts and follow the same patterns I always do. Turn to social media, find the answers in commentary. Search something like #polyamory, #foursomes, #bdsm, #kinkysex, #brotherhusbands.

Maybe the me from a couple of weeks ago would have done that, if Mateo and I had found a way to explore our sexuality without the looming Delaney situation hanging over my head, sticking us in a pressure cooker. Unfortunately, I can't bring myself to go online because every time I do, some new bullshit pops up right in front of my face.

I can't help it. I press play again on her most recent video from this morning. Delaney smirks and flips her hair, then speaks directly to the camera. "Guys, I'm really worried. My best friend Lucy, ZenInTheCity, hasn't been posting, and no one's seen her. Lucy, babe, if you're listening, I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it back. It's just…" She hiccups, and debatably real tears stream down her face. "People just do not understand the pressure we're under. It's so hard maintaining at this level. And so I've decided to pivot my platform to focus on mental health.Because that's what's really important. You guys, keep Lucy in your thoughts. I'll be back soon with some interviews with some experts on the subject. Peace and love. Namaste." Then she prayer-hands, and the recording ends.

Delaney orchestrated that hurtful shit for the sake of content, creating drama and up-heaving my life for followers. It was a choice she made, a conscious decision. Her announcement that her new platform will focus on mental health makes me angry. It shouldn't. I want to saygood for her. Clearly, she needs help.

But she's out there, gaining followers, acting like a reality TV star, and people love it when the famous behave badly, and her whole stupid plan is working. Meanwhile, I'm hiding in my apartment, still reeling from last night, feeling like my brain is split. I can't bring myself to post, to comment, to doanythingbecause whatever I say, it will all lead back to Delaney.

Since her last post, her followers are acting like I'm in the wrong, calling me names, claiming I act like I'm better than everyone, and that I'm at fault for her mistakes. They're supporting her mental health journey, calling her brave for her honesty.

If I comment on what she did, I'm furthering her narrative. If I ignore it, people will speculate and think I'm losing my shit. I didn't realize I was living in such a toxic bubble until I got a little space from it.

Forcing myself to get up and move, I dig out my running shoes, pausing briefly by the mirror.

I take in all my natural features, feeling like this is the first time I've seen myself in years. My face is no longer red from all the crying last week. Still no makeup, freckles out in the open, blue eyes no longer framed by pretty black lashes. Even my roots are growing in, the light brown peeking through the white blonde. Running my fingers through my hair, I snag on a couple of overgrown extensions.

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