Since we’d gone to bed around five that morning after spending most of the night at the fetish club Vivian and I slept in late.
That morning/afternoon as I was making coffee, Vivian was catching up on the messages she’d missed while we’d been sleeping. She read one and burst out laughing.
I brought over two steaming cups and asked her what was so funny. She hesitated.
Don’t get mad, she said.
She read a text she’d gotten from B that morning. “That American guy kind of looked like your bitch last night.” Continue reading