Page 47 of Interview with a Sadist
“For thebetter,” she says, but it’s not a question. As much as Melissa is trying to wear a mask to hide who she really is and how she truly feels, it’s not comfortable for her. The mask slips every now and then, revealing the true bitch she is. “But, we had a bit of a falling out recently. Surely, noteverythinghas beenbetter.”
“No, literallyeverythinghas been better,” I tell her, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more powerful in my life. I watch Melissa as she sits on the bed, and this is the first time I’ve ever looked down on her instead of it being the other way around. She was always the example—the lead I wanted to follow, but now I see her as a complete fraud who can’t handle not getting her way.
“Wow,” she grumbles. “That says a lot about how you felt about our friendship. I thought you would at least be a little upset about what happened the other day.”
“Iwasupset, just not in the way you were expecting. I was more upset at the fact that I’d tried to be just like you for so long. I was upset that I never noticed how ridiculous Teagan is because she’s trying to be like you, too. I was upset that it took me so long—it took me meeting Nolan to see the error in my worldview. But mostly, I was upset that my friends wouldn't support me if I changed my attitude for the better. That was the most hurtful part, but I got over it.”
“You mean you got overus.”
“I got over the bullshit, Melissa. All of it.”
“All because you startedscrewingthe owner of a BDSM club?”
“You see,thereit is,” I say, pointing a finger. “There’s therealMelissa. Unlike you, the change I made when I realized how wrong I’d been was real. It’s permanent. You coming over here this morning and acting like you're ready to be somebody different was all bullshit. You're still the same Melissa from Starbucks that afternoon. So, I don't even know why you came over here.”
Melissa stands up and slams her hands onto her hips. “I came because I thought I could mend our friendship. I thought what we’ve had since college was stronger than that, but I see Teagan was actually right. You’ve changed too much. You’ve had the wool pulled over your eyes, and now that you're fucking thesubject of your interview, I know it’s over. You’ve become the devil’s whore, Bree, and there’s no coming back from that.”
Melissa stares at me, fuming—her mask having finally fallen off to reveal who she has always been, and all I can do is laugh.
“Thank fucking goodness,” I bark, chuckling. “Thank you for the big fat reminder that I made the right decision to walk out of Starbucks. God, Melissa, all I wanted was for my friends to be supportive. That’s it. You guys act like I’m participating in human sacrifices. It’s just kinks and sex.”
Melissa’s eyebrows rocket to the top of her face. “Just kinks and sex. Wow. You're truly gone. It’s depravity. It’s immoral. It’swrong, Bree! So, is that where you were coming back from this morning? You stayed the night at his house?”
“Yes, I did, Melissa—and what do you have to say about it?” I snap. “Go ahead, be the great, supportive friend you’ve always been, and tell me what you think about me fucking the BDSM club owner. I had a great, kinky time wearing nipple clamps while Nolan fucked my face like it was his personal cock sleeve. I came all over his cock, while you were probably lying on your back in the world’s most standard missionary position, while Andy humped you until he moaned and grunted in your ear five seconds later.
“Instead of telling me how wrong I am, how about you tell me when was the last time Andy made you come. When was the last time you had an orgasm that you didn't give yourself? Tell me you’ve never had a single thought about wanting more. Tell me if you're even happy looking down on the world from your fucking high horse. Tell me all of that, and as soon as you're done, tell me ‘bye’ and get the fuck out of my apartment, because I have to shower before I go to work. I’m still all sweaty from being the devil’s whore.”
The tension in the room makes the air unbreathable as we glare at each other. There’s no coming back from this. We’re simply too different now, and Melissa isn’t the kind of person who’s capable of opening up and putting in the work to be a better person. I can’t be friends with someone like her.
After a huff, Melissa turns on her heel and heads for the door, but before she reaches it, she turns around.
“I hope you're happy,” she says.
“Sure you do,” I snip, but she goes on.
“I hope your new friends, who engage in all the kink and think it’s okay, support your new way of life. Because I don't, and I never will. I tried to mend things, but only a whore would fuck the guy they’re supposed to be interviewing.”
“No, Melissa. Only a whore would allow herself to be fucked by a guy who can’t even satisfy her, just to keep up the appearance that she has the perfect life.”
I see the venom of my words spread through Melissa’s body, but she refuses to acknowledge or accept it. Instead, she spins around and walks away, never looking back. I stand in my room and watch her until the door to my apartment closes behind her, but I don't linger there. I never needed Melissa to come by and try to heal anything. I was fine before, and I’ll be fine now. There are a lot of people in the world, and I don't need to be friends with any of the ones who won’t have my back just because I enjoy something that they don't. So, I finish taking off my clothes and turn on the water to the shower, because before I go to work, I intend to wash off any last remnants of Melissa and Teagan.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
My mood is sour when I walk into work. The dumb ass, unnecessary conversation with Melissa seems to have placed a dark cloud over my head, and it feels like it’s starting to drizzle as I step off the elevator and stride inside.
After last night, I expected my mood to be running at peak efficiency. I thought I’d be bouncing around all day, filled with the excitement of what just happened twelve hours ago, and all it took was Melissa’s annoying voice to bring it all down. Now, it wouldn’t matter if there were birds chirping at my desk, or if there was a giant rainbow stretching across the office and lighting up the entire space.
I’m annoyed, and when I sit down, I realize that the last thing I want to see is my computer screen. It stares at me, its face dark and ominous, reminding me that I still have a story to write about the man I’m … seeing? Somehow, I’m supposed to come up with the words to describe exactly what’s happening at The Black Collar, and who the man is that built it to be the success it has become.
How do I describe Nolan without confessing my attraction to him? How do I tell the city of Philadelphia that Nolan Carter is a mysterious man with an affinity for kinky behavior and a love for what is deeper than the surface? He’s a good-looking man who cares about his patrons and the reputation of his establishment … who I’ve fucked once and am desperate to fuck again as soon as possible. He’s passionate and humble … and hot and sadistic with a huge cock. Philly, this man is not the monster you all think him to be. He’s the monster I didn’t know I wanted—the monster I want to tear me to shreds while he fucks me hard with a hand over my mouth. So fuck you, Philly, he’s mine.
“Bree?” I whirl around in complete shock as the sound of Chase’s voice cuts through my imagination. I’m so startled my heart is racing and I’m breathing heavily. “Oh, sorry. You okay? Did I scare you?”
“Shit. Umm, yeah … no, I’m fine,” I stammer, shaking my head to knock away the embarrassment. “How are you, Chase?”
He runs a hand through his gray hair and gives me a warm, but obviously forced smile.
“I’m good,” he says, before motioning toward his office. “You got a second? Let’s talk.”
