Page 35 of On Your Knees

Arlo

Has any human ever hated the weekend, time off from work, or downtime? For the first time in my life, I’m in a conundrum. I have never liked more than one person before. Since my mortifying blow job experience, I haven’t actually had feelings for anyone, yet now my thoughts are consumed by multiple women. Aspen has been working by my side and she has a brilliant mind. Then I have my online buddy—the mouthy, fiery woman I look forward to playing with each night—but I really don’t know a great deal about her. And then there’s my latest obsession, my masked woman, who I know isjust an online fantasy, but she is still someone I can’t stop thinking about.

“Arlo, what the fuck?!” UrNewStep_Mom yells down the mic. “I thought you had my back.”

“Shit, sorry,” I say. Logically, I know I should shoot my shot with Aspen. But then I think, what if she doesn’t go for nerds like me? Then we’ll have to work together and shit will get awkward. UrNewStep_Mom has become my sounding board, so maybe she can offer me some insight. “My head is somewhere else.”

“Who are they?”

I laugh. “A girl from work. I barely know her, but it’s rare to find someone so beautiful, smart, funny, and into gaming.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” She cackles at herself. “I’m kidding.”

“There are so many variables. If I ask her out and she says no, we have to work together, and I don’t like awkward encounters. What if she has a boyfriend—am I making an ass of myself?”

“Then maybe you need to spark up more personal—but not too personal—conversations to find out more about her. Ask about her job before she started there, or what she did over the weekend. Surely if she has a boyfriend he will come up.”

“You’re too good to me.” Her laughter bursts through the headset. “Hold up, my phone is ringing.” I answer on speaker phone, not caring that UrNewStep_Mom can probably hear. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Arlo Kross?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Marcus from HideNSeekHottie’s management team. I’m calling to let you know you have been chosen to take part in one of her videos. Please check your emails and fill in all the forms. You will receive a text message with the time and date. Make sure the consent form and hard limit forms are returned as soon as possible.”

“Um, okay, thank you.”

Marcus ends the call and UrNewStep_Mom screams in my ear. “Holy shit, isn’t that what you were hoping for?”

“I never thought they would pick me. Not if you saw the video I submitted.” How is this my life? Everything feels like it’s too much and I need to breathe. “Hey, I need to go. Can we chat tomorrow?”

“Sure, get some rest and congrats.”

I remove the headset, then rush toward my bathroom. I twist the faucet and use my hands to catch the water, splashing it on my face.

Holy shit, what have I done?!

This isn’t me; I don’t take risks. The wildest thing I have ever done is apply for a job at Ridgeland. I don’t apply to be chased by a masked woman or chat to strangers on the internet the way I talk to UrNewStep_Mom, and I sure as fuck don’t think about hitting on someone at work. I’m broken and always have been. While I thought I had a handle on things, clearly I do not.

Once I calm myself down, I check my emails, and the forms are just as daunting as I expected. They inform methat for her safety there will be at least one male masked man present. I’m surprised when they ask my comfort levels of being touched by them, and if interested, how far I would go with a man.

I fill it in honestly. I’m not opposed to the man being involved—I don’t know if I have hard limits, but I have a safe word I can use if I think things have gone too far. For privacy reasons, I won’t know who the people are behind the masks and must consent to that as well.

Giving myself a pep talk is a hell of a lot easier when I’m blazed. Since starting at Ridgeland, I have cut down. It’s my dream job and I no longer feel the need to sit around wasted all day.

“Arlo,” Mom calls down the stairs.

“Coming,” I yell back.

It’s her night off and we always eat together, though we never keep regular hours, so it’s not unusual for us to have dinner at ten o’clock at night.

When I get upstairs, she has containers of Chinese food spread out. “Hey, baby. What’s wrong?”

I sigh, unable to hide anything from her. It’s the downside of being a loser with your mom as your best friend. I just have to figure out how to explain this without actually explaining it. I tell her a lot, but my sexual fantasies are definitely not a topic I’m comfortable talking about with her. Even though I know I could, that she would be supportive, she would also want to talk about them in depth and that’s where I draw the line.

“I have been given an opportunity to do something I have always dreamed. I’m scared I will fuck it all up.”

She looks at me and purses her lips—it’s something she does when she’s thinking. “Do you have to quit your job to do it?” I shake my head. “Then my advice is to go for it. You only live once and you don’t want to get old like me and have regrets. We are given our twenties to enjoy life to its fullest. If you fuck it up, who cares? You will still have your job, and you will always have me and that girl you play your video games with. She seems to have become a part of your life, though I still think she could be an old man trying to befriend you. The internet is full of perverted people.”

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