I told Jacob about my past. About my rapists and how I had become what I was. A good portion of that day was spent with him calming me down and trying to get me to relax and lower my guard. Now and then he stopped to ask me if I was still afraid. If I still wanted to f**k him.
I told him the truth. That I did. Of course I did. I had made only one proposition the entire conversation. He handled it well. At the end of the day, we parted ways with the decision that he would talk to me the next day. We didn"t even get into the writing or work that day. I had a male friend—for the longest time, that word felt weird to me—and he didn"t want to sleep with me. I had never had such a thing. Not really. Not without there being some desire there. And if it wasn"t there, it"s because they weren"t tha
