Uninhibited

Briar

You’d think I’d be sick of this at my age.

Living in a frat-life college town, graduated over a year ago, can’t find decent paying work in the interior design field. A degree in fine arts should make me more marketable, right? Actually degrees, plural. Nope, no one gives a shit. They all prefer someone with experience. How can you gain experience if you can’t get a job?

My parents had offered me a position at their realty firm—they’d pushed for me to study business—but that would require change. And change is hard, not to mention... uncomfortable.

Anyway, been content working at the same coffee shop, and it’s paid the bills. Did the college thing, which took forever. It used to be a good time, but lately, I’m over it.

This same old song and dance isn’t fun anymore.

“You like that?”

“Mm-hmm.” I study my fingernails with absolute and shockingly obvious disinterest. Not in my nails. These bitches need a manicure. Pale pink paint chipping at the corners. I should do better with self-care.

I balance on all fours—knees and elbows if we’re getting technical. The scorching Arizona sun seeps through the window, making me itchy. Why’s it always so bright here? Internally, I groan after taking in the obsessive and orderly state of his room. My non-boyfriend.

“How ’bout this?” he asks. No. He’s not asking... he’s saying it out loud, probably assuming that’s hot. I’d be willing to bet he has a premium subscription to some porn site, and is legit speaking scripted words.

I’m sure dirty talk or whatever could be sexy. However, I think that depends on the partner.

Here’s the thing. I’ve never had an orgasm from the physical anatomy of another.

Fingers, tongue, dick... Nada.

Not that I haven’t ever. Of course, I have. Got power tools for that. But from sex or even foreplay, batteries not included? Nope. Never.

Talk about a fucking buzzkill.

A sharp—not reading the audience—palm connects with my bare ass. A shock wave bolts straight to my brain, screaming at me, what the hell are you doing?

“Feels. So. Good.” He hammers into me and grunts in time with each sloppy thrust.

“Maybe for you.” I smack a hand over my mouth. Wait, was that out loud? I stay frozen on the white comforter, military-style corners tucked under the sides of his mattress.

“Huh?” Confusion cracks out from behind me.

“That’s nice.” I recover from my momentary filter dysfunction.

That’s nice?

No. A hot cup of coffee early in the morning; a lovely bouquet; a new outfit—that shit’s nice. This is fucking blah!

Here’s the problem...

I’m an only child, born into a prominent family. My parents are rather renowned in the real estate industry, at least back home. They constantly reminded me I was representing them growing up. All of my choices and decisions could reflect on them and have a negative effect on their business.

Formally raised as a well-bred show pony, if you will. To be on my best behavior, and extra with the manners. Honestly, that shit is for the birds. The crazy thoughts have been begging to slip out.

So, my that’s nice is a much tamer and socially acceptable alternative to saying: Go fuck yourself.

I continue examining the chip of polish at the top of my middle finger, reflecting on the events from earlier today. Liz, my employer, told me they’re shutting down because they can’t compete with the monster companies that swooped in. The ones who always eat up the unique and incredible local businesses.

Bastards.

Anyway, I came over here to talk; to vent. And what did he do? What he always does. Turns the convo into something about himself and enjoys the comfort of my obedient nature—on the outside.

How’d we end up in here? Because I’m a pushover, allowed myself to fall into the same routine. Instead of sharing my frustration, I became the doormat Austin was used to.

Yes, Austin, last name fucking Powers, and he is definitely not making me horny.

Get out that solid laugh. I’ve wanted to on multiple occasions. Imagine? I mean, it’s not as if his parents knew. He was born before the movie.

We’ve been dating for the past year. Why? I don’t know? He’s decent on the eyes, smart—brains are a plus—desirable body, looks good on paper. I can keep ticking off the boxes. But if I’m being real, he’s a mega douche. No wonder my best friend can’t stand him.

My body rattles with each sloppy stroke he drives into me. I can’t take much more jarring.

Okay, so back to fucking Austin. Not fucking Austin. But, technically, I suppose...

“You love it like this, don’t you?” His labored breaths heat the fabric of my top. Yup, kept that on, went straight for the kill.

Bruh.

Would you go down a water slide that wasn’t wet? Thank the internet for that one. No, you would not.

Foreplay is a thing, it’s rather important. You don’t start an engine in freezing weather and expect that baby to purr.

It’s a travesty, but Austin, the guy who shags me—okay, I’ll stop—does not know how to handle the cat.

Who knows which factor is the exact nail in the proverbial coffin, but the second I feel a twitch, another one starts in my eye. Like a time-bomb, counting down to zero, ready to explode.

Is it the revelation that I’m fed up, never divulging what I want? The draining task of putting on this perfect show? Or that my favorite coffee shop is closing? That’s a front runner. As he shudders, shakes, and thank God, finishes, something snaps.

“That was—”

“It sucked!”

I flip over on the bed after the words slingshot from my mouth. He staggers backwards, a confused expression lifting his brow.

Austin’s head jerks to the side, and he runs a hand over his buzzed, high and tight blonde hair.

“Wha—”

“It fucking sucked." Heavy emphasis on the last word. I scoot to the edge of the bed and grab his discarded shirt, doing a quick swipe before hurling it at him. That’s kinda nasty. Whatever.

“Babe, are you alright?”

“No.” I scour for my underwear and jeans, of course, folded neatly on the chair in the white-walled room, and yank them on in a hurry. I’m through being quiet. I’m done being bored. “But I will be.”

“Did I do...?” A miffed frown pouts his bottom lip.

It’s like I’m a tiny crack in a windshield. One small ding that’s barely visible, and something happens. Maybe pressure? Complacency? All the above. It’s splintering, cracking, extending to every corner with a rapid rippling effect.

“You ignore me half the time.” I zip my fly. “You only want sex, and it’s never good. You don’t listen to a word I say.” He stands there in a daze. I’m over being compliant. I shove dark strands of hair from my face before continuing. “You sleep around with other women. And I should’ve said this sooner, but I was being... nice.”

“Am I missing something? Are you seriously going to walk out on me? I’m not cheating. We’re in an open relationship.”

“You know what, Austin, I am. I’m walking out on you, walking out on this town. I’m tired of biting my tongue, sick of doing the proper thing. Consider our relationship closed.” Why’d this fly for so long? I release the longest and most relieved breath of my life.

“You bitch.”

I reach the door after ensuring I’ve left nothing behind. Wait... I’m a bitch? In my head? Yes. But up till now? Nah. Don’t think so.

My grip tightens around the doorknob as I turn to face him. I feel my nostrils flare. No, I see them. My eyes narrow, teeth grit together. Austin glowers at me... Austin Powers glowers. I gotta stop.

“You won’t find anyone as good as me.” His arrogant smile has me drier than the Sahara. You know what I mean.

I wasted a year with this fucknut?

“Hm. I’m not so sure.” Laughable. I know exactly who I need to call. The person who accepts me for who I truly am. The only one I’ve ever revealed my genuine thoughts to. “You set the bar pretty low.”

He stands there baffled, jaw dropped. And I just can’t help myself because if I’m gonna let this freak flag fly, I’m not half-masting it.

I poke my head back in the doorway, delivering direct eye contact. “Here’s a tip.” His face turns a deeper shade of red. “If you need to ask a woman if they’ve had an orgasm...” Fists clench at his sides. “The answer is always no!”

And with that last bit...

Deuces Phoenix.

This town ain’t big enough for the both of us.

I step out from the airport and inhale a rush of oxygen that makes me feel like I’m home. Just kidding, it’s New York City, not quite home, but getting warmer. I’m jam-packed next to people, shoulder to shoulder, sucking in a large quantity of smog and exhaust fumes, while giving and receiving dirty looks and a heaping dose of go fuck yourself glares.

Ah, there’s that East Coast vibe.

I had no plan when I left, but I needed to... immediately. I’d told my parents I would accept their offer because I need a job. My mother had a perfect apartment for me in the city, within walking distance to the office—a must. She was relieved when I mentioned Austin and I broke it off, stating that on the single occasion she had met him, she never liked that young man. Coulda shared that opinion sooner, Mom. Not as if I’d have gotten a backbone.

I need a minute or a week to get my shit in order. Okay, that’s a stretch. But, several days with an unfiltered friend will do me good. I’d packed up my tiny apartment, booked a flight, and here I am.

I sigh, finding a sense of calm amongst the blaring horns and chatter of the crowded arrivals area, along with a familiar face.

“Well, look who it is,” he says as I stroll closer. I do a double-take at his buttoned-up professional attire.

“You know you missed me.” I flash a grin while taking in the widening green eyes at my new me appearance.

That’s right, I figured if I was developing a don’t give a fuck attitude, then I better dress the part. Skin-tight jeans, skimpy tank, leather jacket—thank God it’s a little chilly. September can be unpredictable in these parts.

“You look amazing, Bri.” A huge smile spreads across his face, and he straightens from the side of some blacked-out SUV.

So flashy.

“I missed you!” I don’t even fight the squeal as Chaz, my ride or die, flings his arms around my back, spinning me, hugging me as if we’ve not seen each other in a few years. We haven’t.

“I’m sure you did.” He puts me down and slaps on his trademark cocky grin. “This outfit...” He blows out a long whistle. “You’re hot.”

“Gross.” My nose crinkles. He’s like my brother. I shake my head with a mock-gag as Chaz lugs my suitcase across the ground, then hands it off to his driver. “Fancy.”

“I’m rich as Jesus now, remember?”

Wasn’t he poor?

“Right. Anyway, check you out, Mister Wall Street.”

“The Wolf of Wall Street.”

I snort. “You mean the Wolf of what the fuck?”

A few breathy chuckles escape before he opens the car door and slides in next to me.

“So, you’re okay? This is kind of... unexpected.” His scrutinizing gaze lingers for a moment.

“I’m great.” A broad, expanding gleam perks the corners of my glossed lips. “And I’m ready to live it up.”

“So, you sowed your wild oats?” His eyebrow arches with an amused smirk on full tilt. The driver weaves through insane amounts of city traffic. I deliver a single hah, my ponytail whipping behind me as I turn my body to face him. His mischievous grin matches my own.

“I’m just getting started.”

A/N: There’s your intro... Thoughts? Comments? 😈😈😈😈😈 thanks for reading. You can catch me on Instagram: thewolfeofwtf