Page 122 of On a Fault Line

I can’t stop giggling. “Oops.”

“Yeah, right.Oops,” he says with mirth.

* * *

It’s on the third refill, courtesy of Claire who claims I am drinking one for her, that I start to feel like my stomach is a firework about to go off if I don’t supplement its contents with some carbs.

Leaning over the side of the pool, I stretch with all my might until I can pull my swim bag closer to me without getting out.

Feeling brave, I type a message out to my gatekeeper.

Penny: I wanna be your little cum slut. Like one of those hottie girls from Limit-X. To do with as you pleassssse.

Hitting send, I scan the space to see where Collins is. Why can’t I find him?

And then I hear the sound of coughing and…

There he is. Making eye contact from across the patio, I watch as he types out a response.

Collins: No more alcohol for you.

I send him an animated graphic of a cartoon liver throwing up.

Trying to pull myself up on the side of the pool, I fall back into the water and start giggling.

Oops.

This is harder than I thought.

Then I feel strong hands at my waist and the feeling of going airborne.

“Need a lift?”

It’s Ivy.

Haaaa….

That’s not her name.

Her name is Ivan.

Him.

His.

At least I think he’s real. He did kind of materialize out of thin air. Where did he even come from?

But then I remember Collins’s threats.

Oh, hell. “Get your hands off me if you want to keep them attached to your arms.”

“What?” Ivan asks.

My head spins around trying to see where Collins is, and the sudden motion makes me queasy. “Gonna be sick.”

24

PENNY

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