This was what was so intoxicating about sex with Devesh. It was real, at least for Josie it was. But she worried it was this realness that was making her feel so violent. It had definitely brought on the uneasy thoughts of Matthew. Once, Devesh and she had been sitting on the couch watching TV. They were only kissing, but when she leaned her head back and Devesh softly bit her neck, she gasped, felt the air fill her lungs, and then she was her four-year-old self swinging Matthew around by the arms. She remembered that it was something she was forbidden to do, and that was part of the joy, but so was the way it made him giggle—hysterical fits of laughter. Josie saw the image like a strip of super-eight in her head, flickering slowly but insistently. She did not like Matthew in her head at all, but in these circumstances it was unbearable, and it made her push Devesh away, something she never did. He had sat up and looked at her with such indignant surprise that she melted under him and pretended she was just trying to initiate a game. It worked, and immediately all images of Matthew faded from her head. Still, it unnerved her, and she found herself worrying that Matthew would slip into the bedroom and hover above the bed, ruining Devesh for her just as he had ruined her mother.

But one night as she was falling asleep, her head on Devesh’s warm chest, he grazed his lips against her ear and whispered that he loved her, and in that moment, something changed. He loved her. A dark, passionate man who could crawl inside her head and revel in all the dirty thoughts that had been piling up for ages loved her. She was dizzy with surprise and sheer gratitude. Around Devesh, she felt a new gravity that spun Matthew out of her head and kept the fantasies in the bedroom, just as Devesh instructed. And he instructed so well. He was wickedly creative in his discipline, and it was discipline. Good girls were disciplined. Bad girls were punished, and punishments were not something to be desired. She had learned this quickly.

One evening, Devesh told her he needed to work on a grant proposal. He would love for her to stay, he said, but she needed to let him work. She had agreed, but she was bored with her reading and annoyed with the stupid sitcoms on television, so she draped herself over his lap and nuzzled his neck.

“Josie,” he said. “You need to let me work.”

“Play with me,” she murmured.