Page 93 of Broken Romeo

“Okay! We may need to save some of that for the bedroom scene. But overall, that was a vast improvement.” Professor McCay’s voice broke the trance and we jumped back from each other.

Oh, God. The bedroom scene.

I could barely keep it together during a kiss. How the hell was I expected to remain professional with us half naked beneath sheets?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Holden

Five Years Ago…

Her scent was fading from the panties.

I fucking hated myself for knowing this.

But it’d been two weeks since the drop off and I’d used each panty more than once… if you know what I mean.

I set my pen down on the journal, pausing my writing to pinch my cigarette between my lips and take a long drag.

I’d be damned if my therapist hadn’t been right about this journal. I thought the exercise was gonna be bullshit when we started it this year, but I had to admit, it helped to get my thoughts down on paper.

I only met with Dr. Zambetti every other week on Zoom and we rarely even talked about what I was writing… unless I wanted to.

Which I rarely did.

Especially since meeting Kate.

I glanced down at Katherine’s name on my page. And all the horrible things I’d admitted within these pages in only the first few weeks of class.

Fuck no was I going to admit any of this, even within a safe place like therapy. Even still, I felt lighter confessing to someone.

Even if that someone was just me and my journal.

I lifted my phone, the open email thread between me and Katherine under our dummy email addresses already open and pulled up on my screen. I’d read it a hundred times in the last two weeks like some kind of obsessed stalker.

Would it really by so bad to email her one more time? She hadn’t emailed me since the five-word message I got on Monday from her that said: The drop-off’s been done.

That was it. That was how our sick little game had ended, despite me trying to keep the communication open after the drop-off. She never took the bait. Never engaged. Like the good little girl she was.

Would she respond if I offered to buy more panties? I wondered.

I typed out my email quickly and swiftly.

The fact of the matter was, I didn’t just want her panties. I wanted more than that.

I wanted her innocence. I wanted to hold her innocence in the fist of my hand while beating off to thoughts of her kisses.

The unsatiable greed consumed me and I typed out the email in a haze of lust.

Good morning,

As much as I love the 6 pairs I have from you, they’re losing their … shall we say ‘essence.’

I have a request for another pair of panties. I want a pair that you make yourself come in and then I want you to sleep in those panties, drenched in your come all night.

Signed,

Your admirer