Page 13 of Pretty Obsessed

"So why did this end up not satisfying?" he asked.

"They left before I could get their number." I stared into the city. I knew who he was. I could track him down, but that bordered on stalkerish, didn't it?

“Who is she?”

I wanted to correct him—“it wasn’t a she”—but I didn’t have the guts. The words choked in my throat and built there; I swallowed the guilt of them and the fear. Iris held none of the same fear. His non-discriminatory sexual preferences were the worst kept secret in the music industry. One didn’t have to dig far into the internet to find out his habits. No matter the number of NDAs signed, the rumors would always exist, and he didn’t do much to dissuade them.

Iris stared at me. I didn’t have to open my eyes to feel it. “Are you going to see her again?”

“I can’t.” I didn’t even know if I should be telling him this.

Iris’ brows pulled in. “Why?”

“Because I met them in a sex club.” The impossibility of it all hit me again.

“Hell. How’d you even know those existed?” He was stunned. I’d kept my secret well. “How do you think Alexander is going to feel about you seeing a random person?” he asked, his voice dropping considerably.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t even matter.” Half the time, I suspected our manager kept us impossibly busy to prevent us from dating anyone. He loved to warn us off it with tabloids as well making us appearing single as much as possible to sell more albums, but maybe that was my over active imagination.

"Did you ask around, see where she went?"

I nodded. "I got shut down."

Maybe I should have taken it as an omen it wasn't meant to be. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. It already started in on obsession.

“So you haven't tracked her down, why?” Iris wasn’t judging me. He liked his strange, way more than anyone I’d ever met. Just another way for him to drown out his reality. “And why were you in a sex club?”

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” I admitted not wanting to give all of my reasons away. I didn’t think anyone would understand. “I crave intimacy, being touched.”

“No? I mean, I kinda figured when I hadn’t seen you with anyone, but it’s hard to assume someone would really go that long without it.” The confusion showed on his face. “Why not?”

“I swore off meaningless sex with people who only want me for my fame.” And I had mostly stuck to it, staying sober and chaste after seeing how Iris was reacting to fame. It drove me in the opposite direction.

“Then what was the sex club if you swore it off?”

“Stupid, that’s what it was.”

“Still, you’re avoiding the question. Why’d you go to a sex club?” Iris’ gaze turned intense. Determined, maybe.

I felt guilty because going there felt like cheating on my promise to myself to not give into those cravings, but after so long of no one touching me, I’d been desperate. “To get a blow job.” But it wasn’t really that. I wanted to feel something. Feel like someone wanted me. Feel a connection with another human.

“How does that work?” He was laughing and light-hearted about it. “I thought you swore off meaningless sex…?”

If I could explain it to anyone, I could explain it to Iris. “I missed being touched.” Missed wasn’t the right word. I rubbed a hand over the back of my head. “Not missed, I felt like if I didn’t get some intimacy I was going to kill someone. So I…paid for it, because it's not someone who only wants me for fame if it's a prostitute, or so I thought.” My nerves were fried. None of us had slept in our own beds in over a year. I hadn’t seen anything but hotels and the road. “But it didn’t help. Not the way I needed it to.”

He nodded but didn't speak.

“I guess there’s a line in my head. It’s like a massage—I did it for my mental health.” And I had a couple of times, anytime the desire to finally give in to any of the people throwing themselves at me nightly got too overwhelming, I ran to the nearest sex club and hired a sex worker. But no penetration. I had strict rules. It felt like a service, not breaking my rules.

“Okay, that makes sense.”

“I knew you’d get it.”

“Not like I can judge, mate.” He laughed and rubbed his nose.

I cringed and he noticed, which I hated. We both looked at our hands.

“So what about the chick?” he said after the awkward silence seemed to ease. "You gonna look her up? You have her name, yes?”

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