CHAPTER THREE: SALT
Alexis Faron and I went way back. She was a Cali-based model turned fashion designer who I met through social media and became close friends with over time. We constantly hyped each other up and imagined what life would be like should one of us ever make it big, and promised each other that if that day ever came, we’d help the other one make it, too.
Well, when her brand Maison de Lex became LA’s hottest new label, she made good on her promise, and put me in contact with Emma Harris, a British-born, rockstar of an agent who landed me the book deal that changed my life. I owed everything I had to Alexis, and our friendship only grew stronger as a result.
While we were both raising our profiles in our respective fields, she was much more well known in her world than I was in mine, and had connections far beyond what I could ever make doing what I did. Being a writer landed me a film deal, sure, but even being part of an actual Hollywood film didn’t put me in actual Hollywood circles the way the LA fashion scene did for her, and it was through those connections that Alexis met Madison Grant.
Where to start with Madison Grant?
Born on July 5th in Lincoln, Nebraska, she was Americana personified. Like if Aphrodite fucked a bald eagle. A comically attractive small-town girl turned globetrotting supermodel who made the transition from cornhusker to cosmopolitan with relative ease, moving to New York City as a teenager, making the cover of Vogue by twenty, and making the cover of Forbes by twenty-four. A fashion powerhouse that was quickly becoming a brand all her own.
Alexis, still riding the momentum of her hot new label, managed to get Madison to walk in her upcoming New York Fashion Week show that September - but it was July 4th weekend, and that meant a 25th birthday bash for Madison at her Southampton beach house. The bash Alexis had just invited us to.
“What the fuck do you even wear to the Hamptons?,” Jade asked, as she passed over one dress after another on the rack of a thrift store.
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing nothing with skulls.”
“Well, what’s the vibe? Are we gonna do the whole authentic, punk as fuck, take-me-as-I-am thing, or are we playing dress-up?”
I knew the answer to that, but was too ashamed to say it out loud. Then I remembered Jade’s appreciation for directness.
“Dress-up.”
She pinched my cheek and kept looking.
“You’re lucky I like you, dude.”
“I know.”
“Oh! Since we’re playing characters, can I be British? Especially with the whole Independence Day thing, I could be all like, ‘Argh, give it back to us!’”
“You know, it would be cool to make high society uncomfortable…but…”
“You don’t wanna embarrass your friend.”
“Hey, if it was my party, you could’ve gone full Mary Poppins.”
Jade snorted.
“Don’t think Emma would appreciate that very much…”
“Ha, true. Though, the way she talks to me sometimes, she feels more like my nanny than my agent, so she’d probably appreciate it.”
“She just cares for you is all. Or, you know…cares very deeply about you making her a substantial amount of money. Speaking of, anything yet?”
“For the book? No.”
“How about a zombie thing. Takes place in the Hamptons. All the rich people get infected, start going after the rest of us. You could call it Eat the Poor. Which is about the only thing they haven’t done to us yet.”
“That’s actually pretty fucking awesome. You just come up with that?”
“Mhm.”
“I mean, we do live in a Greenwich Village brownstone, so…I’m not sure I’d be the most qualified person to speak on that…”
“Oh, my god! Right! We’re - well, you’re - rich now. Yeah. Never mind. It wouldn’t work. You’d be one of the zombies.”
I didn’t give it much thought up until then, but she was technically right. I wasn’t gonna make the cover of Forbes like Madison did anytime soon, but I was in a new tax bracket, even if it didn’t feel that way sometimes. It was like I had financial dysmorphia. I was well off, but in the mirror, I still saw the same broke guy I was just a few years ago.
“Oh! I like this one, what do you think?,” Jade asked, holding up a white sundress with a floral print.
“I dig it.”
“I’m gonna try it on.”
She ran excitedly to the changing room, and it allowed me another opportunity to quickly take stock of my current life and try to make sense of it all.
My impossibly hot girlfriend, who I was living in a Greenwich Village brownstone with, was trying on dresses for an exclusive Hamptons party hosted by arguably the biggest fashion model in the world. A party where I could potentially, conceivably, make some high profile connections. Connections that could get me to a position of power and influence that I’d then use to make the world a better place in some way. All because I wrote a fucking book. I was through the looking glass. Reality was no longer realistic.
She came out wearing the dress, and it was the first time I had ever seen her in something other than black jeans or the nude - but just like with those two, she was effortlessly beautiful. I couldn’t believe she was mine.
“Yeah, I think that’s the one,” I said, as cool as possible, trying once again to minimize my primal lust for her.
It wouldn’t last.
When we got home, I had her wear the dress as I fucked her against the parlor wall like a man possessed.
The next morning, we took another shower together and got ready for the three hour drive to Sagaponack.
There’s a certain degree of culture shock that comes with driving to the Hamptons that you can’t fully appreciate unless you’ve actually driven to the Hamptons.
For starters, the longer you’re on the LIE, the nicer the cars become. Since I lived in the city, I didn’t really feel a need to buy a new car with my Ava Kills money. I had a Nissan Sentra that I only drove when I absolutely had to, and that fact became a glaring reminder with each new exit I passed on the highway.
“I think I’m officially the only Nissan on the road now.”
“Yeah, I bet the guy who owns Nissan probably has a house out here, and even he’s not driving a fucking Nissan,” Jade deadpanned as she touched up her makeup in the mirror.
The second bout of culture shock hits you once you get off the highway and actually drive through the Hamptons.
Mansions with stables. Mansions with orchards. Mansions with driveways so long you can’t even see the mansion. Shameless, obscene levels of wealth on full display, in all its glory. It was enough to anger any rational person, until I remembered that part of the reason I was here was to make “friends.” I didn’t know what that said about me, but I was sure none of it good.
“You said I’m rich. This is rich.”
“Yeah, dude. Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to live in a place like this.”
Service was spotty out there, and the GPS on my phone was cutting in and out.
“That’s it, right? I think that’s the one,” I said, as I slowly rolled past a sprawling estate with a driveway packed with exotic and classic cars, with even more forming a line just outside it, looking to snag one of the quickly diminishing parking spots.
“Jesus Christ. Yeah. That’s it.”
“Well, fuck that. I’m not parking there.”
“Yeah, I mean look around. Porsche. Bentley. The valet would probably think he was being pranked if he saw this car.”
“Right…”
“On the flip side though, you park on the street, maybe someone walking by feels bad, leaves a check on your windshield, writes it off as a charitable donation. That would be cool.”
“You finished?”
“Oh come on, dude. That was a good one!”
I parked a block away in shame, and walked through a tunnel of gold and white balloons, all the way up to the front gate, where there was a legitimate security checkpoint.
“Name.”
“Oh. Uh…Cardoza?”
“Not on the list.”
“Don’t you know who he is?!,” Jade exclaimed sarcastically.
“Jade. Stop.”
I had never been invited to a party with a guest list before, and as a result, had never subsequently been rejected from a party with a guest list before. It wasn’t great.
“Alexis Faron?,” I continued.
“She’s on the list. You’re not on the list.”
“Well, we’re with her.”
“Can’t come in unless she confirms.”
I went to call her, but neither my phone nor Jade’s had any service.
“Can I just go in really quickly and get her then?”
“No.”
“Can I?,” Jade asked, using her real life superpower - an attractive white woman’s charm - to lower the guard’s defenses.
“Five minutes,” he said sternly, and let her through.
“Dude, really?,” I asked incredulously.
She shot me a wink and a smirk as she made her way in.
“Why does she want teleportation?,” I thought to myself. “She already has it.”
As I waited for Jade and Alexis to come let me in, I scanned the driveway, watching one rich and beautiful person after another casually exit their rich and beautiful cars and make their way inside the rich and beautiful estate undeterred. Almost none of them made eye contact with me, but the few that did, looked at me like I didn’t belong. At least that’s what it felt like. Maybe I was projecting. Or maybe I was more cognizant of my skin color in that moment than I had ever been in my entire life.
I nervously looked around to see if there was anyone my shade or darker at the party. When I saw a few Black models walking around, I breathed a sigh of relief, even if they were intimidatingly beautiful like everyone else there.
“Hey!,” I heard a familiar voice call from the other side of the gate.
It was Alexis, wearing a white beach hat with a navy blue ribbon tied around it, and a snug white and navy striped dress that accentuated her hourglass figure. She pulled down her big white sunglasses, brushed her dark brown hair away from her face, and looked at the guard.
“He’s with me!”
And with those three words, I was somebody again. Maybe not Diego Cardoza, but a friend of Alexis Faron. I was allowed through the previously impenetrable forcefield, and embraced Alexis with a hug.
“How’ve you been?! Mister big time writer over here.”
“Miss big time fashion designer over here.”
“You guys, this bitc—this Madison chick isn’t even here yet,” Jade announced, as she rejoined us with three glasses of champagne that had raspberries floating in them.
“Yeah, she’s running late.”
“To her own party? Nice.”
“Well, gives us some time to catch up! How are you guys? You still tattooing?”
“Yep, still living the dream.”
“And you! How’s the new book?!”
“Haven’t started.”
“Aww. Well, you work well under pressure, right? You’ve got this!”
“Thanks. Yeah. Hopefully...”
Behind Alexis, I could see a small crowd forming around the driveway. Someone had rolled up to the house on horseback.
“There she is!”
Yup. There she was. Madison Grant. Sitting atop a slow-strutting white horse, dressed in full khaki riding gear, helmet and all.
She passed us by, appearing ten feet tall, and waved to the cheering crowd below.
“Hey guys! Sorry, my session went over! But thanks for coming out! Gotta wardrobe change!”
More cheers.
She was helped off the horse gingerly, like she was made of glass, and strutted her way inside the house with the same swagger as the actual horse she rode in on.
The whole thing was surreal.
I looked around the party and took it all in. The horse, the cheers, the mansion, all made possible by her physical appearance.
Her almond-shaped, electric blue eyes and chocolate brown hair took her from Nebraska to New York. Her high cheekbones and chiseled jawline put her on the runway. Her svelte, classically elegant figure put her in this beach house. And all of those things, coupled with a bubbly, media-savvy personality, surrounded her with adoring fans. Not friends. Fans. Followers. She was a messianic figure if ever I saw one.
The girls and I cut through the dissipating mob of rich and beautiful people that had gathered around Madison, and made our way to her massive pool and shared a lounge chair.
“Oh, what are these?,” Jade asked a server who walked up to us with a tray the minute we sat down.
“Gruyere and crab palmiers.”
“No mozzarella sticks?”
“Jade.”
“Thank you,” she continued, before picking one up with a napkin, taking a bite, and spitting it right back out into the same napkin. The server forced a paid-for smile and walked away.
“I’m gonna have to work the room soon,” Alexis groaned. “This is technically a work thing.”
“And what should I be doing?”
“Just enjoy! I’ll introduce you to some people later.”
“Better get into character, Sweet Boy.”
“You too, Jadey baby.”
Across from the pool were four men wheeling a massive gold and white cake shaped like a castle. It was comically elaborate and detailed, with multiple towers and levels, and easily six feet tall.
“Wow. That thing is taller than me.”
“It’s taller than all of us,” Alexis added.
“Where the fuck are we right now?,” Jade asked. “I feel like I’m trapped in the fever dream of a 7-year-old girl.”
She had a point. The horse, the extravagant party, the castle cake - Madison Grant was essentially a little girl living out the dreams of every little girl. She was literally a princess with a pony. But as cringe as the lack of self-awareness was, there was a level of emotional immaturity to her that I found both tragic and relatable.
It was tragic because Madison, like many models, was in front of a camera from a very young age. Her body was being sexualized well before she could understand it or handle it, and while sadly that’s not exclusive to models, the additional commodification of her body was.
While other young girls were doing young girl things, she was taking headshots, practicing her walk, going to auditions, and standing in front of adult strangers who critiqued both her body and her form. She didn’t have time to be a child, yet at the same time, had been infantilized her entire life, because she was too pretty to ever be told “No.” She had no real friends reigning her in, telling her when she was becoming a caricature of herself. Just a bunch of opportunistic enablers catering to her every whim, including actual caterers! Madison wants a six foot cake? Madison gets a six foot cake. Who was gonna stop her?
And I found it all relatable, because just as Madison had seemingly missed out on various childhood milestones, so too, did I.
I was five years from turning forty, and Jade was my first real girlfriend. I never experienced the puppy love relationships most others did in their teen years. The wild, experimental, sometimes regrettable sex of their college years. I understood the concept of wanting to make up for lost time and living out the fantasies of my younger self. Madison and I weirdly had that in common.
Jade continued scanning the party in search of more absurdities.
“Seriously, is everyone here a model? I’m like, the fattest one here.”
“Honey, no. Stop. All these women would kill to look like you, and I say that as a former model myself. Be proud of that body, girl!”
“Especially that ass,” I added.
Jade playfully slapped my arm.
“Welp, I’m officially on the clock,” Alexis announced, as Madison finally returned to the party, now dressed in a white top with a plunging neckline, white pleated trousers, and a pair of beige wedge sandals.
“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” she continued, as she hopped up and made her way to Madison. I could see her body language shift in real time from disinterested partygoer to giddy business partner as she walked over to the birthday girl. Few people played the game as well as Alexis did. That’s why she was where she was.
“And then there were two…”
“Don’t get too comfortable, she’ll be coming back for you soon.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Jade continued scanning.
“You’d think being here would be an awesome experience. I’m like, physically ill.”
“Maybe your body just hasn’t developed the microbes needed to digest rich people food.”
She snorted.
“Just…don’t ever get like this, okay?”
“What? Of course not.”
“I mean…I wanna live well…who doesn’t? But…not like this.”
I rubbed Jade’s thigh softly and whispered in her ear.
“I promise you, this won’t be me. This won’t be us.”
She interlocked her fingers with mine and nuzzled against my cheek.
“And you know you’re fucking gorgeous, right? Fuck these people.”
She took my hand and brought it under her dress and rested it against her crotch.
I pulled back and looked at her as if to ask, “Really? We’re doing this? Here?”
She smirked and covered my hand with her clutch bag.
I guess we were doing this. There.
I rubbed her pussy through her panties softly as she grabbed my hand and slowly moved it around the way she wanted it. When I felt her wetness through the cotton, I delicately moved her panties aside and began fingering her. She held my hand firmly in place, allowing only my fingers to move around.
She brought her thighs closer together, forming a grip around my wrist, and began moaning softly in my ear as I stealth-fingered her in front of hundreds of rich and beautiful assholes that we were pretty much invisible to.
I massaged her clit with my thumb, and she bit my earlobe and squirmed.
“Don’t move,” I whispered sternly, fully embracing this sudden power dynamic. Her pleasure was literally in my hands.
My fingers were coated in her slick juices, and I could tell she was getting close.
“Hello!,” came a bubbly, unrecognizable voice from behind me that shocked me so badly I went airborne.
“Guys, this is Madison,” Alexis chimed in, as she introduced us to the six-foot-two Nebraskan native.
Everything about Madison Grant’s proportions looked exaggerated. She was five inches taller than Jade, who was already noticeably taller than me, and taller than most women in general. Her eyes looked bigger than every other human being I had ever met. Her limbs were cartoonishly long. She looked fragile, yet overpowering at the same time. It was like she was created in a lab. There was nothing else this woman could’ve been other than a world famous supermodel. She was so ridiculously beautiful, there was an uncanny valley vibe to her appearance. She looked mostly human, but not quite the real deal.
She stuck her hand out to shake mine, and I quickly wiped Jade’s juices on my linen shorts as best I could to complete my half of the greeting, and felt her soft, delicate fingers completely dwarf my hand. It was like if King Kong’s Ann Darrow was the same size he was.
“This is Diego Cardoza,” Alexis continued.
“Ohh, Diego,” Madison said in an exaggerated Spanish accent. “How festive!”
Jade elbowed me.
“Hey, Mr. Festive, tell her something in Spanish.”
“Ha. Nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend Jade.”
“Oh. My. God! I love your dress! Who are you wearing?”
“Whoever donated it to the thrift store.”
“Ha! Love that! And I love your tats! I wish I could get more. I only have this small one on my wrist,” she replied, as she flipped her left arm over to reveal a small, sixty-nine cancer zodiac sign.
“Nice,” I remarked.
Jade rolled her eyes.
“He’s only saying that because it’s a sixty-nine.”
“Heh. Come on, now. No, I mean it, it’s nice. I’ve got my sign tatted, too,” I continued, showing her the scorpion tattoo on my forearm.
“Ooh, scorpio! You guys are supposed to be all dark and mysterious. Very cool.”
“Yes, very cool. Who did that one, Diego?,” Jade asked sarcastically.
“Ha. So yeah, she did this one, actually. She’s a tattoo artist.”
“Oh wow! Okay, that’s only like the coolest job in the world! Do you like it?”
“Love it. Happy birthday, by the way,” she added, trying to hide her very obvious disdain with a very obviously phony congratulations.
Madison’s face drooped into a cartoonish frown. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Twenty-five. Getting up there…”
“I’m gonna be thirty next year,” Jade deadpanned.
“Wow! That is so brave. Own it, girl!”
“Brave?”
As weird and as tone deaf as Madison’s response was, I understood it. She had been working as a model for over a decade already. Couple that with the rampant ageism in the industry, I could see why she didn’t view her mid-twenties the way the rest of us mere mortals did. She was living her life in fast forward. Odds are, she considered twenty-five to be the twilight of her modeling career.
Alexis diffused the potential awkwardness by changing the subject.
“You know that movie Ava Kills? That’s based on one of Diego’s books.”
“Oh my God! I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it. Horror really creeps me out, sorry! I’m sure the movie’s amazing though!”
“It’s not,” I shot back immediately.
“Oh! Haha. Well, never mind! Glad I didn’t watch it then.”
“Service sucks out here,” Jade cut in, scrolling through her phone.
“Ugh. Yeah, I know. But I see it as a positive. Less distractions. You can enjoy the moment more. The beach…the vibes. We could all use some time away from our phones, am I right?”
“Uh, sure.”
“His book is amazing though,” Alexis continued, thwarting yet another potentially awkward moment and hyping me up as she had done for years.
“How cool is that though, to have your book become a movie!”
“Oh, it’s surreal for sure.”
She put her hand on my shoulder and leaned into me like she was about to share a secret.
“Wanna know what ya do next time? Write the movie yourself. Then they can’t screw it up. Mhm,” she nodded, agreeing with herself.
“Ha. Never thought of that. You’re right.”
I wasn’t kidding. I genuinely never thought about writing a screenplay of my own. She raised an interesting point.
“I actually know a few people so, if you ever wanted to do something, let me know.”
“Wait, are you serious?”
“Absolutely! Just gotta make me the lead. Kidding!”
“Haha. Wow, though. That’s incredible! Thank you! Might have to take you up on that.”
Someone working the party walked up to Madison and whispered something in her ear, to which she nodded sternly, then smiled and patted them on the back.
“Alright, well, just came to say hi. Enjoy the rest of the party, and thanks again for coming! You’re staying for the fireworks, right?”
“Definitely.”
“Great! Nice meeting you, Diego,” she repeated in that exaggerated, culturally insensitive Spanish accent.
“And, Jane was it?”
“Jade.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Jade. Nice meeting you both.”
She shook our hands again, but before she turned to leave, she noticed Jade’s eyes. It was sunset, and her heterochromia was pronounced again.
“Wait a second, are your eyes two different colors?!”
“Yep.”
“That is so freaky! But I mean, in a good way!”
“Thanks.”
“Of course! Wow…but, yeah, thanks again for coming, and nice meeting you. You guys are so adorable together! Couples goals for sure!”
Alexis whisked Madison away and they disappeared into the crowd.
“What a bitch,” Jade groaned.
I didn’t mind Madison’s focus-group-tested persona. I knew that was part of the game. But I also knew that the last thing Jade wanted me to do was defend this beautiful stranger who she clearly didn’t like.
“Yeah. Super fake. Look where we are, though. Par for the course.”
“If you ever get this way, I will fucking kill you. I mean it.”
“And I would certainly help you in that endeavor. Really gotta piss, though,” I added, looking around for a bathroom. I asked one of the servers where they were, and they pointed me towards the main house.
“Alright, think you can go ten minutes without stabbing someone?,” I continued.
“No promises. Make it fast.”
I made my way inside the magazine-style home and headed towards the bathroom.
The culture shock didn’t end at the driveway, as I walked into a bathroom that was the size of the apartment I had shared with my douchey roommate Adam. It was big enough to charge rent. A walk in closet, a clawfoot tub, a fucking fire place. Throw in a mattress and a kitchenette, you’d never have to leave. It felt less like I was pissing into a toilet bowl, and more like I was pissing on the floor of the Plaza Hotel. Once again, enough to make a normal person projectile vomit. I washed my hands in the giant marble vessel sink, gave myself a quick glance in the vanity mirror to make sure I could see my reflection and confirm I hadn’t died and gone to gaudy heaven, and met back up with Jade.
“Alright, you met the queen, you used her throne, can we go now?,” she asked abruptly.
“And miss the fireworks?”
“No, come on, seriously. I wanna go home.”
Part of me agreed with Jade, but another part of me felt like the entire trip was a loss as it currently stood, and I thought maybe it could be salvaged somehow if we stuck around - but the facts were what they were. Both of us felt insecure and out of place, I was too nervous to talk to anyone else at the party without Alexis by my side, and sticking around would most likely just make us feel even worse than we already did.
“Alright…yeah. Let’s go.”
She squeezed my hand tightly as we made our way through the crowd of rich and beautiful people, feeling a slight sting of defeat, and as we got closer to the gate, there was Madison again, a few yards away from us.
I waved goodbye to her, and she gave an exaggerated frown once again, and pantomimed crying, wiping an imaginary tear from her face as the sun set behind her.
The walk back to my car was a quiet one, and I felt the need to apologize for the trip once we got in.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why we even came. I guess for Alexis…”
“Dude, it’s okay. I get it.”
“I just…I don’t know. I’m new at this.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
“Thanks for doing this, by the way. Dressing up, being cool—
“Well, I don’t know if I was that cool…”
I rested my forehead against the steering wheel and rubbed my temples, preparing for the long drive home.
“I’m ‘brave’ for turning thirty? What a bitch!”
“Ha. I know. I know.”
Jade giggled.
“What?”
“You totally shook her hand with the one you fingered me with.”
“Ha. Ah fuck, that’s true. Yeah, that was bad.”
Her giggle got harder and louder.
“That was your fault. I blame you,” I teased.
Her giggle now a full-on hysterical laugh.
“I hope she gets cake frosting on her fingers and licks it and tastes me,” she replied.
I laughed along with her, not because I found it as funny as she did, but because it was the happiest I had seen her all day. The idea of this model unknowingly tasting her pussy was sending her into a laughing frenzy.
“Ha! Imagine!”
“You guys, does this cake taste like pussy to you?,” she continued, mimicking Madison’s bubbly voice.
“That’s what she gets for messing with my man,” she added.
“Ha. Wait, how was she messing with me?”
“She was clearly trying to flirt with you…Diego,” she replied, now mocking Madison’s offensive Spanish accent.
“Oh, come on.”
“Dude, I’m telling you. She gave you the look. I know the look. I gave you that same look on our first date. Plus the whole ‘let me know’ thing? Please.”
“You’re insane.”
“I think I know women a little better than you do, dude.”
“Right, yeah. Madison Grant was hitting on me. In front of my girlfriend. Yep. Because that’s realistic. Lily-white supermodels are always fucking brown dudes half their size. Can’t get enough of ‘em.”
“Do you wanna fuck her?”
“What?”
“You can be honest. I mean, she is a model. Most guys wanna fuck her.”
This was a side of Jade I had never seen before. First, she was openly insecure at the party, and now she was visibly jealous in my car.
“Did I not just finger fuck you in front of everyone? I mean, really—
“Dude. Relax. I’m just fucking with you.”
“I was gonna say, because—
“She’d be the most boring lay of all time. I mean seriously, look at her. You think she puts in work? She’s probably never sucked a dick her entire life.”
“Ha. A pillow princess, huh?”
Jade ran her fingers up my shorts and squeezed my cock.
“I bet she’s never done this…”
She unzipped my pants slowly, pulled my dick out of my boxers, and before I could process what was happening, took me into her mouth.
“Oh my god. Fuck,” I sighed, immediately overwhelmed.
I clutched the steering wheel and looked around the empty streets. We were in the last few minutes of daylight, and anyone could’ve seen us. It was an exhilarating yet confusing mix of ecstasy, surprise, and fear, but I knew I couldn’t enjoy the former if I focused on the latter, so I laid back and closed my eyes, trying to enjoy the moment.
I thought about what Jade had just said; about how Madison probably never sucked a dick before, and imagined what her sex life looked like realistically. She was probably right. She probably was the selfish type that just laid there and never reciprocated. In her mind, granting a man the honor to fuck her was effort enough.
Then I thought about what Jade had said about Madison flirting with me, and imagined my dick being the first one she’d bring herself to suck. I envisioned me having to talk her through it as she went along, her doe-eyed, innocent face looking up at me, taking orders with my dick in her mouth. Then I hated myself for having imagined that, and forced myself back to reality. Jade was giving me head in the middle of the Hamptons. That was all the fantasy I needed.
“Hey!,” came an angry voice from outside the car, with an even angrier tap on my window. It was an older man with a golden retriever.
“What the hell are you doing?!,” he screamed.
“Oh fuck!,” I yelled back, and frantically started the car. “Sorry!,” I continued, and peeled off down the street, to Jade’s amusement.
“I gotta finish the job, man!,” she joked, as I flew out of the Hamptons like a bat out of Hell.
“And you didn’t finish me off, either, so you owe me when we get home.”
“Ha. Deal, baby.”
She took me into her mouth again and picked up where she left off.
Not long into the drive, the fireworks started, and I wondered if they were coming from Madison’s house.
The red and blue smoke illuminated both the sky, and the car, as I rolled down the windows and took in the salty beach air mixed with the burning powder of the firecrackers, all while Jade went down on me.
Once again, I ask for emphasis: What was my life?
When we got back home, I honored my end of the deal, going down on her the minute we walked through the door, taking in her musky scent from being out in the heat all day, mixed with her juices from before.
As we laid in the afterglow, I thought back to what Madison had said about making my own film. It was a brilliant idea. Why write another novel in the hopes that it gets adapted again (but faithfully this time), when I could cut out the middleman and write a screenplay with my own, uncompromising vision? The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. It was just a matter of logistics. I’d have to tap her, Alexis, and Emma to see if I could make some real Hollywood connections. I’d also have to figure out what that meant for my book deal and the deadline. I started drafting my ideal movie cast in my head as I drifted off to sleep.
That sleep wouldn’t last though, as I was awakened a few hours later by Jade screaming at the top of her lungs while violently thrashing around.
“Jade! What the fuck? Jade! Are you okay?, Wake up baby! Come on! Jade!,” I shook her nervously, to no avail. Her screams only got louder, and her thrashing more intense. She rolled off the bed, kicking and punching the floor, her body sweating profusely, her breathing intensifying.
I watched in horror as she flailed around in the dark like she was possessed, her eyes now opened, but not responding to any stimuli.
I reached for my phone to call for an ambulance, unsure of how to describe exactly what was unfolding. Was it a seizure? A panic attack? A demonic force possessing her body?
Before I could make the call, the flailing stopped, the heavy breathing slowed down, and she groggily blinked her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling.
“Baby! Baby are you okay? What the fuck was that?”
“Why am I on the floor?”
“You had a fucking seizure or something. But you were screaming, too. And kicking, and—
“Oh…no…”
“What? What happened? What was that?”
“A night terror.”
“Night terror?”
“But I haven’t had one since I was little...”
“Dude, what the fuck was that? I thought you were dying.”
She slowly climbed back into bed like nothing happened.
“I’ll get into it tomorrow,” she replied in a deeply unsettlingly casual tone.
I stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to process yet another first in our relationship, and one I wasn’t ready for.