That night, my mind wouldn’t let go of the conversation Julian and I had shared—it kept replaying, over and over, like a favorite song stuck on repeat, only this tune was far from innocent.
I had stormed into Zach’s room earlier, eager to spill my secret, but he was out cold. His body sprawled across the bed like a starfish, his mouth slightly ajar, a soft snore escaping. There was something peaceful about the way he looked, utterly unbothered by the world, so I tiptoed out, deciding not to disturb his sleep. Still, my chest felt like it was about to burst—I’m a talker by nature, and holding this in was pure torture.
I exhaled slowly, my eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling as I tried to sort through the jumble of emotions swirling inside me.
Physically, I was more satisfied than I’d been in ages, my most private places humming with a deep ache, craving more.
My heart was in on the secret too, fluttering with excitement at the thought of this forbidden connection with the alluring, enigmatic Julian. My heart hadn’t had much to celebrate since my last relationship, which was more bruising than blissful.
But my brain had a completely different agenda. It warned me in stern tones about the consequences. Jane’s rules were clear—no relationships with clients. She feared it would blur professional lines, leading to free sessions or favoritism. Work was work, no exceptions.
A cold knot of dread settled in my stomach. I’d crossed a line, even if it had been mind-blowing beyond belief. I was stuck in a mess of my own making, especially since Julian was asking for an encore. Refusing might mean risking Jane finding out.
But I could always deny it—play it off as just part of the act.
I hated even thinking that way. The idea of letting Julian down made my heart ache preemptively, like a warning from some deeper part of me. How was I so drawn to someone after just one phone call?
Because it’s thrilling, the mischievous part of me whispered.
You’re headed for trouble, the sensible part countered. But it was outnumbered, overwhelmed by desire.
Remember how incredible he made you feel, my body seemed to say, pulsing with vivid reminders of the pleasure he’d stirred without ever laying a finger on me.
"God," I murmured, pressing my palms to my eyes until specks of light danced behind my eyelids. If I thought about this much longer, a headache was inevitable. "I need sleep." Since I was clearly not going to figure this out alone, and Zach was the only person I could trust with something like this, I told myself to try to push these thoughts away.
Curled onto my side, I forced myself to let go and drift into sleep.
---
When morning came, I woke far too early. Even before my eyes opened, I knew something was different—a strange energy in the air, unfamiliar and restless. Time felt fluid and meaningless; morning, noon, and night blended into one.
Despite the early hour, I wasn’t wrapped in the usual comfort of warmth and drowsiness. The blankets felt less inviting, the room colder. Normally, I would have begged for more minutes under the covers, but now, I was itching to move, to do something, anything.
I threw off the covers, dressed quickly, and gave myself a little extra care—putting on makeup and clipping my hair up with a crocodile clip. The small rituals gave me a bounce in my step and a flicker of confidence, though a hollow pit of unease lingered in my gut—probably the weight of breaking the rules gnawing at me.
I grabbed my phone and headed to the bathroom, where I took care of the morning essentials. The house was silent; no sign of Zach yet, and I guessed he’d sleep in for a few more hours. Instead of waiting around, I slipped downstairs.
The kettle was already full from yesterday, so I just flipped the switch and waited. While the water warmed, I prepared my usual coffee—the perfect blend of milk and two sugars—and set my cup ready. I thought about making breakfast but wasn’t hungry yet. Besides, it didn’t feel right to eat without Zach here.
Steam curled upward as I poured the boiling water over my coffee, stirring it gently before settling onto the sofa, tucking my legs beneath me. The warm cup was comforting, but my mind was already racing, buzzing with to-do lists and daydreams.
I figured I had a whole morning ahead to be productive—maybe even squeeze in a workout. Tidying up was definitely on the agenda; the apartment was starting to collect its usual clutter—takeout containers abandoned like forgotten relics. Neither Zach nor I were models of neatness.
But no matter how hard I tried to focus, Julian kept creeping back into my thoughts. I wondered about his own morning routine—if he was meticulous about his appearance, like some kind of polished charmer. I pictured him with blonde hair, a bit of a player, maybe even sporting a six-pack. I hoped so. It made imagining him all the more enticing.
“Stop it,” I told myself, shaking my head with a sheepish grin. It wasn’t any of my business what he looked like—it was just fantasy, after all. Still, it was a delicious fantasy.
Before I knew it, an hour and a half slipped away, lost in vivid imagining of every inch of him. My coffee had gone cold hours ago, unnoticed, until Zach’s familiar presence broke through the fog.
He flopped down beside me with a groggy sigh. “There you are.” His voice was thick with sleep, and without hesitation, he grabbed the cup from my hand, taking a sip.
“Oof, this is cold,” he complained, brow furrowed. “How long have you been sitting here?”
I shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “About an hour.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why, honey?” His voice softened, concern lacing his words.
I took a deep breath, the secret finally tumbling out of me. “I need to tell you something.” I shifted to face him fully, crossing my legs beneath me, bracing myself.
“Did you finally shave your legs?” Zach teased, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip.
I flushed, swatting his arm. “Shut up. It’s been a little while, okay? This is serious.”
His grin didn’t falter. “Honey, that forest you’re growing is serious,” he joked, but I cut him off, knowing full well how long he could rant about body hair.
“I had phone sex last night.”
His face morphed from teasing to stunned. “Sweetie... phone sex is your job.” He scrunched his nose as though trying to assess my mental health, reaching over to check my forehead.
I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand away. “I know, but it’s not my job to actually get off during calls!”
He blinked, clearly shocked. “Wait, you... you actually climaxed with a client?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, cheeks burning but eyes steady. “It was with Julian. And it was... incredible. But now I’m scared, because this could get me into trouble,” I confessed, the weight finally lifting slightly now that it was out.
Zach leaned back, processing. “Well, that’s definitely new territory.” His playful grin softened, replaced by a rare tenderness. “But you know I’ve got your back, right? No matter what.”
I nodded, feeling the warmth of his friendship wrap around me like a shield. This was messy, complicated, but at least I wasn’t alone.
And for the first time in a long while, that made all the difference.