Chapter Three — Callum
I pause, carefully considering my next words, which is actually kind of strange.
I’ve gotten used to just saying whatever’s on my mind around Alex, which is rare for me.
Normally I think things through carefully before I speak, but she puts me at ease.
I don’t want to just blurt out the answer to this question, though.
It’s a serious question. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
Just how honest should I be?
It takes me a second to realize I’m even having these thoughts.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. Who cares what she thinks? This isn’t a girl you’re dating. Just say whatever you want.
I take a deep breath, stop second-guessing myself, and start telling her the story. My story.
“Well, I’m single, I guess, because I haven’t met a woman who’s a good fit for me long-term.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“Well —” I pause. Here I am again, second-guessing. “The things I’m looking for long-term, I don’t know if they exist.”
“Exist in a woman?” she asks.
I nod. “I’m very particular. Maybe I’ll find those things someday. Maybe I won’t. But until then, I’m okay. I have my friends. I have my business. I have my family.”
“And you have these games,” she says, filling in the end of my sentence.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Exactly.”
“So these games are, what, like a substitute for a one-night stand for you?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I’m sure you’ve gathered this, but I have very particular sexual interests, and I’m not very interested in one-night stands.
I know it’s unusual, this type of arrangement.
But it works for me. Sometimes, when you’re different, you have to come up with solutions that are outside the box, you know? ”
She nods. “Yeah, I do.”
For some reason, I actually believe her when she says that — not because I think she can relate to my situation exactly.
I know she doesn’t run games like this herself.
I don’t know anyone else who does except me.
I wouldn’t expect a woman to have the same kind of sexual interests.
But she strikes me as unique in her own way.
I imagine she’s had to find her own way in life, do things differently.
“Tell me,” I say.
“About what?” she asks.
“You know. The solutions you’ve had to come up with. You’re unique. I’m sure you’ve had to figure out a lot of things on your own.”
She nods. “You’re very observant, you know that?”
I shrug. “I’ve been told that.”
She smiles. “Yeah, well — I take it you know about my chess and math background.”
I smile. She knows I looked into her, obviously. It’s how I figured out her real name.
“I do,” I say.
“Yeah. So — there weren’t that many other women who had the same interests as me growing up. I mean, there were a few, but I was kind of the oddball, you know?”
I nod. “I do.”
“I was a tomboy for a long time,” she says. “I thought that since most of my friends were boys, that meant I was a tomboy. But I guess at some point I realized I wasn’t really into sports all that much, and I didn’t really like wearing baseball caps, jeans, sneakers, and play-wrestling.”
I laugh. “Play-wrestling? Please tell me you were young when you did that.” I pause. “Or — don’t, actually.”
She laughs. “What, you want to picture me wrestling with men?”
“Not just any men. Me. Although I don’t know if it’d count as wrestling if I’m able to pin you down in five seconds. It wouldn’t be much of a challenge for me. But I could play along with you for a little bit, if that would make it more fun for you.”
Her cheeks flush, and I feel a fire in my stomach. How did this conversation turn so quickly?
“Oh,” she says, her eyes dropping down.
“Look at me,” I say.
Her eyes lock with mine, and she gulps. All of a sudden, all I can think about is pinning her down on the blanket and fucking her senseless.
But not yet. I need to work up to that with her.
Part of me is actually trying to delay it with her.
I know once we get to that place — once I finally fuck her — it won’t be long before this thing between us will end.
Because the thing with me is that I have to escalate.
And at a certain point, it’ll be too much for her.
So I’m trying to delay that as long as I can.
“So — where was I?” she asks.
“You were telling me that you thought you were like the boys because you were a smarty-pants, but then you discovered you’re actually a bit of a princess.”
“Oh right, a princess,” she says, laughing.
“Am I wrong?” I ask.
She smiles in a way that tells me I’m absolutely right.
As always.
“I like your princess side,” I say.
She blushes. “Thanks.”
“But you know what I like even more?”
“I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me either way,” she says.
I smile. “Any guesses?”
“Something about how you like dethroning me?”
“Ooh. Not quite,” I say. “You’re clever, though. So what I like even more is turning a princess like you into a dirty little slut just for me.”
She blushes and grabs her necklace. She always does that when she’s nervous.
“You’re nervous,” I say.
She doesn’t say anything.
“You like being my dirty little slut, don’t you?”
She’s still quiet.
“Wait,” she says. “You didn’t finish your story.”
She’s right. Although I can’t say I care that much about my story anymore.
“I think I mostly did,” I say. “Your question was why I’m single, right? Well, I’m single because I like ruining girls. But once they’re ruined, I get bored. Or they can’t handle it. So I move on to the next one.”
Her eyes widen.
“Is that too dark for you, princess?”
She shakes her head, but I can tell she’s a bit shook.
“I think you already knew that, though. Didn’t you?”
“Why, though?” she says.
“Why what?”
“Why do you like doing that?”
I shrug. “Does anybody know why they like what they like?”
“Trauma?” she asks.
I laugh. “Everyone’s had trauma. If you’re asking me whether I’m fucked up sexually because of it, I can’t answer that.
I’m not a psychotherapist. It doesn’t really matter, though, does it?
Either way, the truth is still the same: I like taking innocent girls, pushing them to their limits, and ruining them. Anything less is boring to me.”