I sigh and narrow my eyes as I try and work through what she’s saying. “I’m surprised at this direction you’re going, to be honest. I mean, look at it from my perspective, Grace. You’ve been online for years. Years! Typing out every dirty sexual fantasy about me in public. You do understand that, right? Or have you deluded yourself into thinking no one is watching what you’re doing? Maybe you think this is just a friendly chat with a few friends, but that’s not the case, Kinsella. Your Dirty Heaven thing is quite big. In fact, on Saturday nights, you are a Twitter star. So how can you blame me for assuming that you have a fetish for exhibitionism?”
She’s silent on the other end.
“Am I right? Or did I totally miss the boat on this? Because I just assumed, after reading that tweet in the bar, that we were into the same thing.”
“So you do like public sex!” She says this like it’s a gotcha moment and I practically throw up my hands.
“Grace, how could you be my online stalker for years and not realize that? I admit, it’s reading between the lines, but there are so many lines to read between. Every few months there’s a report about my deviant behavior. Don’t you read Buzz Hollywood?”
“I do, but—”
“But you assumed they were lying?”
“Well, yes. Of course. I mean, I’m not naïve, I figured the NDA was legit. But I just always gave you the benefit of the doubt.”
I am silent. I’m seriously without words. “You… did?”
“Of course, Vaughn. I had you wrapped up in this tight fantasy bubble. You were like, my prince. You were the perfect man. And I know that’s not real. I understand you’re a human being, but…”
She trails off and I’m not sure I can fill in the silence, so I don’t even try. I let it hang there. We let it hang there.
“Are you still there?” she asks.
“Yes,” I breathe out. “Just thinking.”
“About how stupid and pathetic I am?”
“No, Grace. That’s not what I’m thinking. I’m thinking… it’s been a long time since someone was so honest with me.”
It’s her turn to be silent now.
“Grace?”
“I’m still here.”
“Tell me, truthfully, if you don’t mind. Why don’t you have a boyfriend? Why do you waste your Saturday nights on me?”
“Why not you? I mean, you’re hot. And you’re so easy.” She giggles. “I mean, you have such a long public history, you know? I can do a search and somewhere, someone has an answer to my questions about you. I like that. And your pictures are everywhere, so I can make cute graphics with comment bubbles over your head.”“I’m public.”
“Yeah, you’re—” She stops as the pieces fall into place. I have never had a conversation about this stuff with a woman. None of them. “That’s why you like the public stuff? Because you’re an open book?”
I let her think about this for a few seconds. “Makes sense, though, right? I mean, look, I’ve been in the media since I was five and started doing commercials. Primetime sitcom series for six years, then the band when I was fourteen. I’ve been on display my whole life. What’s one more ass**le watching me during a private moment?”
“Is it an addiction? Have you ever had sex in private?”
I laugh. “Of course.”
“But you thought I like the public stuff too?”
“I know it excites you, Grace. I felt your pu**y and it was wet every single time. So why fight it? Why give me such pushback?”
“Because it makes me feel… dirty.”
“Aren’t you? Aren’t you the filthy blue bird? Isn’t that the public persona you’ve been cultivating for the past few years?”
Silence from her again.
“It’s not real to you, is it? All that Twitter stuff. It’s fake to you. Is that why you don’t have a boyfriend? You prefer the illusion?”
“That’s actually not why.”
But her tone is hostile, so maybe that’s not exactly why, but there is a reason why she doesn’t have a boyfriend. And it’s got something to do with this Twitter stuff. Somehow, some way, it’s related.
“I just don’t have time for one.”
“Right. But you have time to chat online every Saturday night for hours and hours? You know, for someone who is extremely self-righteous when it comes to my bad behavior, you sure do have some good excuses to justify yours. At any rate, dirty is just a word. Exhibitionist sex can just as easily make you feel sexy. But for some reason you choose something negative.”
“Are you going to stop the Twitter chat or not?”
Her abrupt subject change is a signal that she’s done with the personal stuff, and that’s OK with me. I’m about finished as well. With the personal stuff. I’m just getting started with the sexual stuff.
“I told you. Make me come with words, over the phone. And I’ll put a stop to the chatter.”
“Why can’t you just be nice and do it without the phone sex?”
“Because I want you, Grace. And this is a good way to get what I want.”
She’s quiet for so long I almost think she hung up. But then I hear a small breath of air and I know she’s about to give in. “Grace,” I whisper, breaking her silence on the other end and unzipping my pants at the same time. “I’ve got my hand on my cock, ready to go. Forget about Twitter and think only about me.” She takes a deep breath on the other end of the line and I know… I can just feel it. This will be epic. “Talk to me, Grace. If you were here, what would you do to get me off?”