I close my eyes for a beat longer than a blink and exhale my frustration, trying to will my pulse to slow. Ally is frantically trying to smooth her hair down. She touches her lips and stills, as if the memory of them merged with mine is just now pouring in.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. “Oh my God, what did we just do?”

“Ally…” I step towards her with my arm outstretched, but don’t dare to touch her. “Ally, it’s ok. It’s not as bad as you think.”

She finally looks at me for the first time since before I stood her in front of the mirror. The first falling stars melt and slide down her cheeks, her lip trembling. “I’m married, Justice! This is exactly as bad as I think. I’m not some kinda…whore…that just kisses guys that are not her husband. That’s not me! None of this…none of this is me!”

This time I grip her shoulders, commanding her attention. “Ally, this isyou. This is who you are. You can be as awkward and silly and goofy as you want with me. I don’t care about your hair looking perfect or what labels you wear. I don’t give a damn who you know or what school you went to. And I definitely don’t give a fuck about Evan, who wouldn’t know how to be loyal and honest even if he had a fucking gun to his head. So fuck him.And fuck feeling guilty for finally taking control of your desires. You wanted to kiss me, Ally. You wanted to kiss me just as badly as I wanted to kiss you.”

“No,” she says shaking her head adamantly. She brushes my hands away and turns, giving me her back. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to be a cheater.”

“You’re not a bad person, Ally. There’s nothing wrong with feeling the way that you do.”

She shakes her head again and nearly runs out of my bedroom. I’m right on her heels, refusing to let her dismiss the living, breathing desire that’s been between us since day one. “You can’t run from this. You can’t just act like there’s nothing between us.”

She bends down to collect her sweater, still shaking her head, refusing to face me. She’s not just dismissing the kiss—she’s dismissing me. She’s done with me. I’m not even worth a response or even a glance. I’ve been discharged from her service. She doesn’t need me anymore.

Pain-laced rage boils just under the surface of my skin, and I stalk behind her as she tries to scurry to the door.

“Really, Ally? After all the time we’ve sat here–right here in this fucking living room– talking, laughing, and just being, you want to act like I don’t even matter? Like what we both felt didn’t matter? Tell me it didn’t matter, Ally. Turn the fuck around and tell me you didn’t want that to happen back there!”

Her hand is on the door handle and she leans forward, her forehead pressed against the door. I can’t help it. I can’t stand this distance between us. I can’t lose this angel only to be forever cast into hell alone. In a final act of desperation and insanity, I wrap my arms around her, completely covering her body with mine. I want her just as immersed in me as I am in her.

“Please, Ally. Just stay,” I whisper urgently, kissing the shell of her ear. “Stay, or tell me you don’t want this. That I’m a fool for wanting you like I do.”

I hear the click of the door handle and hope splinters like broken glass, falling away into the land of broken dreams and stolen moments. A land where Ally’s smiles are brighter than the sun, and her laughs are the soundtrack of pure, untainted happiness.

“You’re a fool,” she croaks, pulling away from my arms. From me. “And I don’t want this.”

Part of me stands at the door, waiting for her to come back. Hoping that she’ll change her mind and choose me. Choose us.

The other part of me lies at the bottom of the pool drowning, while a million tiny stars look down at me in pity.

“TODAY’S LESSON IS actually very simple. So let’s get straight to the point, shall we? Open the cases in front of you.”

I wait for the sounds of metal latches and the horrified intake of eleven breaths, but I don’t look at any of them. I don’t make eye contact. Not today.

“What are we supposed to do with these?” Lorinda. Or maybe Maryanne. Or…fuck if I care.

“Suck them.”

“What?” Another Mrs. Fucktease von Clueless.

“You’re going to learn how to suck them,” I say louder, my voice carrying throughout the room. I close my eyes and count to ten in an attempt to get a handle on my shit.

“Now if you’ll all be so kind as to remove the dildos from your case and, using the suction at the bottom, attach them to the table in front of you, we can begin.”

“You really expect us to do this?” another asks, her whiney voice making me cringe. “It’s disgusting and degrading.”

“And that’s exactly the train of thought that forces your husband’s dick into your nanny’s mouth.”

“That’s sick!”

“That’s the fucking truth.” I massage the back of my neck and take a leveling breath. It’s completely silent, save for the sound of incessant pounding in my skull.

I’m hungover.

And not, like, a little hungover.

I’m a lot hungover.

Plus, I look like shit. I didn’t shave and only had time to hit the hot spots in the shower before class started. My simple tan slacks and white linen shirt are unpressed and my hair is just finger-combed. And my mouth tastes like a raw oyster that’s been sitting under the desert sun all day.

Like I said, I look like shit. And I probably smell like I bathed in that fifth of Jack instead of drinking it, now that it’s seeping out of my pores.

I swallow against the dryness on my tongue, but to no avail. “Look, if you want to learn how to do this shit and do it right, I’ll teach you. If you’re too hung up on stereotypes, or think Jesus won’t love you over giving a little head, then there’s the door. So what’s it gonna be, ladies? You want your husband to look at you as a housewife? Or as his own, personal whore? You choose.”

No one answers, yet they all stay deathly still in their seats, staring in delightful horror at the 8-inch, flesh-toned dildos in front of them.

“Good,” I nod with a grimace. Fuck, that hurts.“Let’s begin.”

“DON’T BE AFRAID of it, Maryanne. It won’t bite you.”

I watch as the matronly woman slides her trembling lips over the tip of the silicone penis. Her pink tongue gives it a lick before she eases her head down, taking it into her mouth completely.

“Good. That’s good. Let it touch the back of your throat and gently suck as you pull out slowly.”

She complies, looking up at me with big, brown eyes, seeking validation. I pat her on the back and nod before moving on to the next housewife.

“Shayla, use your tongue, baby,” I croon, resting a warm hand on her shoulder as I squat down next to her. “Lick the tip when you pull up. Swirl it around the head. Imagine tasting those little drops of precum. That’s how you know he’s ready for you; you’re making him feel good. Now, when you ease it back into your mouth, put pressure on the underside of his shaft.”

Just like Maryanne, Shayla does exactly what I say, even letting her eyes close as she imagines the feel of a hot, pulsing cock sliding between her lips. I almost smile with pride, when a moan rumbles the back of her throat. She feels it too. The thought bringing a man to his knees with her mouth is getting her hot. Shit, it’s even getting me a little hot.

Beside Shayla, Lacey is trying to suck the plastic off her rent-a-dick.

“Slow down, Lacey. Slow. Sensual. Take your time.” I place my hand on the back of her head and push it down slowly, forcing her to match my tempo. “Slow, sweetheart. Just like that. Taste every inch; savor it. Put more of it in your mouth, baby. Yeah…all the way to the back of your throat.”