Chapter 19
Bex
Corey: I forgot to ask you something
Bex: ??? you just left
Corey: had other things on my mind
Corey: and on my cock
Corey: like 2-3 times
Bex: Coreyyyy
Corey: I’ll be back in a few weeks for the awards show
Bex: fancy
Corey: do you
Corey: would you want to go with me?
Only a few hours have passed since Corey dropped me off at my apartment and headed to the airport. I lay in my bed, already missing the warmth of his embrace and the delightful pressure of his weight above mine. Every part of my body is sore—deliciously sore—from round after round of sex with Corey.
I have never experienced sex the way I did with Corey. Yes, he’s far more experienced than me, but I could sense he was holding back. Holding back, or maybe, simply not performing? I couldn’t quite tell, and I was too timid to ask, but I went with the flow. Wherever he held me, bent me, twisted me, cuddled me, I surrendered to a euphoria that’s been missing from my life. And I didn’t realize it until now.
Glancing at my phone, I realize it’s been almost ten minutes since Corey sent me the text asking me to go to his awards show with him. I wonder if he’s on his plane, if he’s flying private or commercial. Why didn’t he remember to ask me during our twenty-four hours together…
Rolling to my side, I feel a soreness tug at my abdomen and hips. Ah, right. He was more focused on burying himself within me and, to be honest, suddenly I’m not all that upset about a text invite to an awards show.
Bex: I’ve never been to an awards show before
Corey: you don’t have to go, honestly
Corey: I want you to feel comfortable
Corey: and that life can be overwhelming
Corey: my life
Bex: yes
Corey: yes… it’s overwhelming?
Bex: (rofl emoji) yes, but also yes
Bex: I’ll go with you
Twinging at the pull of my muscles, I roll out of bed and burst out into the living room where Ally and Britney are watching TV.
“What the fuck do I wear to an awards show for porn?”
Striding into the youth center with the newly purchased photo printer in my tote bag, I feel on top of the world. I cannot wait to figure out how this thing works, and to see the excitement on the kid’s faces when their masterpieces become tangible pieces of art.
I’m barely through the front door of the center when I hear someone call my name.
“Bex, hey!”
I turn to see Patrick, the youth center director, leaning out of his office.
“Hey, Patrick, what’s up?” I’m a bit stiff when it comes to Patrick. I know managing the youth center isn’t a glamorous job, but he makes absolutely no effort to involve the greater community or to seek out donations. It’s like he just sits in his office and twiddles his thumbs every day.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” he asks, nodding at my tote.
“Oh, I picked up a photo printer. The kids will be able to print the pictures we’ve been taking for weeks.” Patrick forces a smile, but I can tell he’s got something to say about. “Spit it out, Patrick. What’s wrong with me buying this printer?”
He sighs and says, “I’m sure it wasn’t cheap, huh?”
“What’s the point, Patrick? I bought this with my own money. I’m not asking the center for anything.”
“Good, because we don’t have a budget for fancy things like that, much less for the art program.”
Grinding my teeth, I bite back a retort. Instead, I simply say, “Like I said, I bought this with my own money. Is there a problem with that?”
“Just make sure you take it home with you,” Patrick says, turning to go back to his office. “We don’t have a secure place to lock that up and store it. If you leave it here, it’s at your own risk.”
As he slinks back into his office, I flick him off .
“Ms. B, language!” Mitchell says, walking into the center doors behind me. “Well, sort of.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “C’mon, Mitchell. You’ll never guess what’s in this bag!”
“No fuckin’ way!”
Mitchell and I walk to the arts room, while he animatedly talks about which photos he’s going to print first. I dismiss my conversation with Patrick, shoving it to the back of my mind. I cannot handle his piss poor attitude about this place and the kids that I’ve come to care for so deeply.
“What, no video chat tonight?” I teasingly ask Corey over the phone.
It’s been almost a week since he visited me, and while my pussy seems to have recovered from the delicious beating she took, my heart feels like it’s wrapped in a vise. The more days that have passed, the more time I’ve had to reflect on my feelings for Corey and, well, I’m genuinely concerned I’m falling into the “too much, too fast” feeling zone.
Corey chuckles and I feel a little disappointed that I can’t see the accompanying smile. “It’s been a long day, princess. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, a little sarcastically, although it’s taking everything in me to not whine about it a bit. Maybe if I whine about it—”
“Don’t be a brat, Bex,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I promise we’ll video chat tomorrow.”
There’s an awkward silence before I finally say, “Okay.”
He clears his throat and says, “Tell me about your day. ”
So, I tell him about the photography class at the youth center, how only a few kids showed up this week, but how engaged they were.
“We didn’t even make it outside to take pictures,” I say. “The kids were so excited about printing some of their favorite pictures they’ve taken already. I think we printed so many pictures today, the printer might already need new ink.” I laugh, but wince internally. The ink cartridges aren’t inexpensive, but it’s worth seeing the excitement and pride on their faces.
“If there’s anything I can do—”
“No! Oh, Corey. No. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply—”
“Bex, baby, shhh.” Corey’s voice calms me into a verbal submission. “I know you weren’t asking me for anything. I want to help, if I can.”
His gentle tone sends a surge of emotion through me and tears prick my eyes. Suddenly, I’m glad we aren’t video chatting.
“Corey—” I say, my voice betraying me and breaking with emotion.
“Bex, talk to me.”
“I just never expected… you.” The words slip out, but it’s the truth. If you had told me a few months ago I would meet a customer in the high limit room who, not only was hot as fuck, but wanted to pursue me? I would have laughed in your face. But we’ve gotten so close over the last several weeks, emotionally and physically; it feels beyond any fantasy I could have had about this man.
Corey sighs and is quiet for a moment before he says, “I feel the same about you.”
A comfortable silence follows, and I place my phone on my chest, hearing his breaths come through my speaker and wishing he were lying on top of me, holding me.
“What about an art show?” Corey says after a while.
“Hmmm? ”
“Didn’t Britney mention it the other night? Now that you have a way to print these photos, couldn’t the kids put on, like, a gallery show?”
I grind my teeth at the memory of Britney suggesting this. She means well, completely, but it’s still a far-fetched idea. And it’s certainly not something I want to even suggest to the kids unless I have the ability to pull it off.
“I don’t know,” I say, picking at my nails. “It would be amazing. The kids would absolutely love it, of course. But…”
“But?”
“Just like with the ink, it’s not cheap. We would need supplies to frame the pictures, some sort of wall or location to display them. And that’s just like an ongoing display,” I say, mentally creating a list for myself. “If we wanted to do a legit art show? I don’t even want to imagine the costs, let alone the logistics. I’m only one volunteer person, after all.”
“We can make this happen, babe.” The confidence in Corey’s voice wraps around me like a comforting embrace. “Please, let me help. Shit, I’m sure I can get Aaron on board to sponsor or something.”
My face heats at the mention of my boss. “I cannot ask my billionaire boss to sponsor a youth art show!”
“Why not? And he’s not just ‘your boss’,” Corey muses. “He’s my best friend, which makes him your friend, too.”
I hadn’t even considered that until now. Tears are truly threatening to spill over at this point, so I hastily change the subject.
“Enough about my day,” I say as I wipe a stray tear from my cheek. I pray he can’t tell from my voice that I’m crying—happy, nervous, excited tears? “How was your day? How has work been?”
“Eh,” Corey says. I know what he’s going to say before he even says it. “It’s fine. Nothing exciting.”
“That’s what you always say. ”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
“So, what are you working on, then? I honestly know nothing about your day-to-day, besides your workouts. Tell me something. Directing any upcoming movies?” Corey clears his throat, but it turns into a cough. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he chokes out. I hear the snap of a bottle and the sound of his throat working. “Spit went down the wrong pipe,” he says.
“Hate when that happens.”
“Yeah.” Corey is quiet for a moment. There’s a soft knocking in the background, and he says, “Listen, Bex, I have to go. There’s this producer meeting I need to join. It’s starting in a few minutes.”
I glance at the time on my phone screen. 7:35 p.m. Weird time to be having a professional meeting, but I shrug. “Of course.”
“Hey,” he says softly, catching on to the distance in my tone. “I love talking with you. And I’m looking forward to video chatting with you tomorrow night.”
“I love talking to you, too, Corey.” The tears are back, but I don’t hold them in this time. Why am I so emotional over… whatever is happening right now?
“Goodnight, baby.”
He ends the call before I can whisper, “Goodnight, sir.”