I went back at seven because I had already come on her hand and lying to myself was more work than the door.
Diana did not pour wine. She locked it behind me and kissed me in the hall like the sofa had been a greeting. I dropped my purse. Her mouth was slower than last night and meaner. She walked me to the bedroom that was not Elias’s. Neutral sheets. A lamp. She unzipped my dress and looked at me the way she had on the table, except there was no oil to blame.
“On your back.”
I lay down. She pulled my underwear off and put it in the drawer like it belonged to the house now. She spread my knees with her palms and looked at me.
“He doesn’t get this view,” she said. “Not first.”
Then she put her mouth on me.
I grabbed the sheet. Her tongue was flat on my c**t, then pointed, then she su
