Annette had been sitting at her desk politely grumbling about her coworker’s ineptitude when her phone had dinged. There were few people she talked to during the day. Figuring it was probably her boyfriend, one of her friends, or group text she let it sit for a minute. She had already spent ten minutes trying to figure out where the error was and didn’t want to lose her train of thought. If it was important they knew to call her. 

Thirty seconds later her phone dinged again. Annette picked up her phone and unlocked her screen her eyes slowly pulling away from her computer screen. Finally looking at the words in front of her, she was confused. For starters the text opened with, “would you be interested, at all, in having a three some with my fiance and I?” Referencing the contact info, “PSYCHOPATH AVOID” put everything into context. 

There had been no greeting, no opener, and certainly no spellcheck. Annette thought about all of the things she’d rather do – finish this project, have a movie date with her boyfriend, attempt a threesome with a jackhammer and a fully automatic powder-actuated tool with collated nail magazine – than intentionally be in the same room as her ex. Though, she had to give Evan a small amount of credit. Even without a proper opener addressing someone who hadn’t responded in three years he had made it a must read. Annette saved her project. Made a quick adjustment, re-saved it, and returned to the text, “she has this fantasy about watching me eat out and have sex with another girl in front of her.” Annette felt a shudder run down her spine, the things people were willing to do for others. She wondered how long he must have been vying to make that her own fantasy. “She also wants to play with a girl.” 

Perhaps it didn’t take as much convincing as Annette would have thought. Maybe Evan had found his true soulmate after all. Regardless, Annette had been hit on my a wide variety of people, ranging from homeboys to guys, to gentlemen to dudes, including lesbians and some maybe–I’m-bi-not-gay men. While she was sure that Evan’s fiancé would be just super, Annette had more experienced options. Ones whose company she actually enjoyed. Her friend Hunter, had claimed dibs on her should she ever want to try something new, had she wanted to entertain the thought of being with a woman. 

Pulling her legs up and crossing them underneath her Annette read, “the catch is”–wasn’t there always a catch? “The catch is that we can’t let her know that I know you, but i know away around that.” Of course he did, from what Annette called of their four month stint together, Evan always had a plan. A manipulative, half-schemed plan that only benefitted himself, but a plan nonetheless. As could be expected, “I’ve been racking my brain to think of someone, and honestly, I’d love another crack at eating your delicious pussy.” 

Well, Annette thought to herself, I guess there is an ounce of truth in everything. 

Annette read the text once more in full: 

Would you be interested, at all, in having a three some with my fiance and I? She has this fantasy about watching me eat out and have sex with another girl in front of her. She also wants to play with a girl. The catch is that we can’t let her know that I know you, but i know away around that. I’ve been racking my brain to think of someone, and honestly, I’d love another crack at eating your delicious pussy.

Annette laid naked on her back. In front of her was a very naked, very tall man. She was much more sober than she had been when she had left the bar. Taking in the view in she figured she had two options. Either abandon ship now, speak up, proclaim the truth even if her voice shook, or she could close her eyes and follow where her drunk instincts had lead her. Annette closed her eyes giving away to the numbness she often drank to avoid. They said alcohol only tricked the mind into thinking it made the body feel warm, while it actually lowered the temperature. They were wrong. The only time Annette lived her life was in front of a bar or sunk into her couch with a bottle of wine encompassing her. Making her warm enough to defrost the frozen tundra she had constructed between her and the outside world. If she couldn’t deal with it, it made the most sense to freeze it out.

It hadn’t lasted very long, or maybe Annette had dozed off. Either way, he was still there. There was a hesitancy about him. Partially kneeling on the floor, partially propped up by the couch he looked at her with dark brown, almost black eyes. He offered to finish her off, if she hadn’t been fully satisfied. “No, thank you though,” Annette said as she sat up and reached for her t-shirt from the void of the couch. 

“Okay then,” he said nodding. By the time she had pulled her shirt back over her head he was at the door. “See you,” he said as he left. 

If Annette had been sober when she first met Evan, she might have been able to avoid the next four months of her life. According to her therapist, while it wasn’t a good experience to go through, she could always look at it with appreciation. If she hadn’t drunkenly walked into Satan’s anus she wouldn’t have had to pull herself up and out the hole she had submitted herself to. Annette didn’t like living in a world constructed by ifs, but she also loved her life now. 

She loved her boyfriend, her friends, both of which contributed to a strong support system. Annette loved her job and the class she was taking. She knew she could leave the house without needing to be too hungover to be frightened or too drunk to realize she wasn’t home. She had her coping skills, her emergency medications, and her will to push forward. She loved the life she had rebuilt. But most of all, Annette loved herself. Screenshotting the outcry for attention Annette drafted a text message to her boyfriend.

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