Page 14 of Perfect
You’re supposed to want to have sex before it happens. On top of that, your partner is supposed to care if you like what they’re doing.
All of this was news to me.
Now that I’m on my own and I know I like sex, I can masturbate whenever I want, as much as I want, and I do it every day.
Every. Single. Fucking. Day.
Right as I’m starting to come, I have this overwhelming fear that Danny’s about to walk in, and the tension in my core starts to falter. I try to ignore it and keep going, but it ruins it for me, and I lose my orgasm. I huff out an angry breath and stare up at the ceiling, pissed.
He’s still trying to take things from me, even though he’s not here.
I’m not going to let him.
I take a few calming breaths and navigate to a video I love and start over. I have so many questions about what I like and why I like it, but I’m not asking them. It’s not like I’m having sex with anyone, so I don’t need to worry about having to explain wanting to try something that would be embarrassing to talk about. It’s just me, so I save whatever makes me come to a bookmarked folder on my web browser, even the videos I’m sure would make me cry if they happened in real life, which are most of them.
I don’t know how I’d feel about being tied up, but it seems scary.
Maybe someday I’ll get to figure out if it’s not.
6
THEO
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7
I think about Alex a lot.
It’s not that I can’t stop myself, I just don’t want to.
I keep seeing her around town. Her office is near my house, and we’re regulars at the same coffee shop in the mornings. We also run a similar route on Sundays, but at slightly different times. Seeing her is the best part of my day, but I don’t think she’s noticed me once. Not that she would, because she seems somewhat unobservant.
It’s fine. I’m not trying to get her attention.
Not yet, anyway.
***
“You seem distracted today, Theodore.”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”
“What’s going on?” I stare at Dr. Mills for a minute. I can’t tell her that I’ve been out of prison for a month and I’m already having a hard time controlling my impulses. She probably wouldn’t give me a chance to deal with it by myself. She’d probably think I’m a recidivism risk and recommend that the parole board revoke my parole, and I’mnevergoing back to prison. I do have to talk to her, though, so I need to figure out how to talk about this casually.
“I might have met someone.” The tiniest crease forms between her eyebrows.
“Have you been trying to meet people?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I raise my eyebrows at her, but she waits me out, staring patiently back at me. I can’t believe she’s going to make me say it.
“Because,” I say slowly, “it’s been awhile.”
“Ah,” she says, looking down at her notes quickly. “Were you intimate with anyone in prison?”
“No.”
“Have you been intimate with anyone since you’ve been released?”
