Page 15 of Adam & Eve

away from me without a second glance—like I was one of the boys on campus. I was furious, then

perplexed. I knew then she was special.

After that day, I couldn’t let the thought of her go. I replayed our first encounter over and

over in my head that weekend. What had she said to the boy she’d threatened? What had she seen

in me?

Even when my fiancé, Jenny, had dragged me from one society event to another, droning on

and on about our wedding, my thoughts never drifted far away from her for long. I didn’t even

know her name at the time, but she was all I could think about.

When I fucked Jenny, it was Eve I’d imagined. I used Jenny’s body like I’d never done

before. For years, sex with Jenny was a once or twice a week obligation, always missionary, with

the lights off, the boring ‘make love to me’ bullshit women like her craved.

However, that Sunday night, I bent, twisted and touched her in places and ways I was sure

never crossed her prim and proper mind. When I was done with her, she couldn’t meet my eyes. I

knew she was afraid they’d give away the fact she’d liked the dirty things I’d done to her.

Girls like Jenny had been taught to be ashamed of anything that wasn’t vanilla. Life to her

was all about what would be acceptable to her peers. She was depriving herself for no reason,

having no idea about some of the kink the people she dealt with daily were into. I didn’t feel it was

my responsibility to tell her.

I left her curled up on the bed we shared, looking confused but thoroughly fucked.

Afterwards, I drove to the condominium I kept for when I wanted to be alone. That night, I couldn’t

sleep. I didn’t want to sleep. Instead I sat up drinking Scotch, and for the first time, I thought

about what married life with Jenny would be like.

She hadn’t been my choice. I would have never chosen a woman like her. My parents had

introduced us at eighteen. They’d told me that she would be my bride. An arrangement between our

parents had taken place before either of us were born. Old money married old money. That was

how it was in my world. We allowed ourselves to be bred like animals.

From the moment I met Jenny, I disliked her. Everything about her was straight and typical.

Blond hair, blue eyes, model like figure, large fake breast. If asked, I would admit that she was

very beautiful, but did beauty really matter when she looked like everyone around her and lacked

substance?