I climaxed thinking about what could’ve happened between us if he wasn’t one of the most famous men in the world and I wasn’t the woman he’d hired to debase himself.

13

Elena

“Two hearts…” I called out my bid and watched my bridge partner’s eyes flare. Looking at my hand again, I realized I’d said the wrong suit, which was mortifying.

In my defense, I’d just gotten a text from Alex that said: Mission accomplished. It had a link to a celebrity gossip site with the headline, “Alex Chase’s Steamy Dominatrix Date.” I had to muster every ounce of self-control not to read the article under the table, but I was still distracted.

I wasn’t the best bridge player on a good day, but I was usually at least a reliable partner who could follow Leigh’s cues. We’d met at a book club at the library and I’d agreed to start learning bridge to be her partner when her husband passed. We now had a monthly bridge club with two other women at the retirement community where she lived. Some months, they were the only people outside of the scene I socialized with. They were elderly and thus invisible to most of society, but they’d managed to find power in that as they’d shed the layers of societal expectation. I wanted to be just like them when I grew up.

When we lost our third hand in a row, Leigh said, “I think we’ll call it a day since you two are mopping the floor with us. I’ll make drinks. Everyone’s usual?” There were nods all around the table.

I took the opportunity to finally read the article.

The only picture they’d released was a grainy shot of Alex with his arms wrapped around me, demonstrating how to swing the club. They’d captured the moment he nuzzled my neck. Even from a distance, you could see how our bodies were molded together. No one would look at that image and know we were faking it.

They’d also gotten ahold of a picture of him with his fist wrapped around my ponytail and…shit, it looked hot.

I scrolled to the comments to see how people were reacting. Far from thinking it was a publicity stunt, people were alarmingly engaged in the narrative of him with someone so scandalous. I could only smile at the vitriol being spilled by some of his fans because their man might be off the market.

There were several comments saying I looked like a witch, something I chose to take as a compliment. Many saying I wasn’t hot enough for him. Probably objectively true. Lots of them making fun of me for wearing that outfit to Level Golf. Fair, but not entirely my fault. It was bizarre to me that all of these people had enough energy to find reasons to hate me when they’d never met me.

Then there were the people who were excited about me, equally strange that these strangers were so invested in me from one tiny video and some gossip on the internet. Predictably, many of the comments referenced stepping on them. At this rate, I’d be putting “Step on me” on my gravestone.