Like an evil force has taken over my body, I accept her request. But it's not because I want to creep through yet another profile. Everything was set to private before, though it isn't hard to get around that. I click on her profile then close my eyes.

Nope. Not doing it. I already know how she will come across. Picture perfect. So picture perfect that it will make me wallow inside, wishing my teeth were that white, or my skin that clear. I'll be jealous of her fake b.r.e.a.s.t.s, even though my real ones are better than hers. Just heavier, sweatier I'm sure, and slightly saggier.

But they felt better?

Yeah, sure. I can go with that. Instead of looking at her perfectly posed pictures of her perfect family, I unfollow her and exit out of the Internet. I should work. I'm at work, after all, and the day is almost over.

"So, give me deets," Cameron says as we munch on chips and drink margaritas.

"We did dinner Friday night, saw a movie Sat.u.r.day afternoon, then spend that night and Sunday just hanging out, playing video games and watching TV. Super laid back, but super enjoyable. And we f.u.c.ked several times, of course."

One of Cameron's eyebrows goes up. He looks at his drink and grabs another chip, dipping it in salsa.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh nothing," he says and flicks his wrist.

"Bulls.h.i.t. What?"

He lets out a breath and looks at me, expression soft like he's going to break bad news. "Nothing is exclusive yet, right?"

"Nothing's been said."

"And he still dates other women?"

"Not that I know of, but I mean, if we haven't voiced the whole only see each other thing, then he can, right?"

Cameron nods. "Honey, I love you. You know that. I don't want to see you to get hurt. I'm saying this out of love."

My heart sinks into my stomach. Good thing there is a decent amount of tequila in there for it to float in. "Saying what?"

"You stay in. Play video games. Drink beer and eat pizza. You're one of the guys."

My eyebrows go together. "But we have s.e.x. Frequently."

"All men would f.u.c.k their best friend if they had a v.a.g.i.n.a."

"You think I'm just friend material?"

"I'm not saying that's all you can be. I'm just saying it sounds like that's what Ben is doing. He still hasn't taken you to his fancy art shows?"

"No, but-" I clamp my mouth shut. I'm not making excuses for Ben. If that really is the case and he's using me for f.u.c.k-able guy time, then I feel more violated than a cuc.u.mber at an all-women's prison. I gulp my margarita. "So, what do I do?"

"I'm not sure. Straight men confuse the h.e.l.l out of me. Maybe just ask him?"

"No. If I don't like the answer, I'd rather not know. Ignorance is bliss, after all."

He pats my hand. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Look, it's early. You've been seeing each other for what, three weeks? Give it time."

"Right." Three weeks isn't that long. Not at all. But shouldn't it be enough time to decide if someone wants to be with you or not? I knew after our first date that Ben is someone I want a relationship with. I'm not talking marriage here, but something a bit more serious than just casual dating. Though, if Ben were seeing other women ... when? We spent a lot of time together over the last three weeks, especially the last two weekends.

"Anyway," Cameron says and I know he feels bad. But not as bad as I'm feeling. f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k life. f.u.c.k love. f.u.c.k it all.

I take a deep breath and pick up my drink. No need to jump to conclusions. Nothing has changed between Ben and me, and I was super-freaking-happy just hours ago. I always knew being friends with your boss was bad news.

"Got plans for the Fourth?" he asks.

"Probably going home. My parents do this huge party on the lake. It's one of those invite your friend and their friends and anyone they've ever met-as long as they bring food or drinks-kind of parties They have boats and jet skis for their cabin rental business so it's actually fun."

"Did you invite your boy toy?"

I shake my head. "Not yet, at least. I'll mention it to him. Maybe if I promise hunting and fishing, and, uh, other manly things, he'll want to come."

"Liss," Cameron says sharply. "I'm sorry, okay? Don't make me feel bad."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad. Just trying to give myself a reality check."

He looks at me sympathetically. "No need for that. Just keep realistic expectations. That's what I did, what I still do. It keeps this from breaking." He puts his hand over his heart. "It's a harsh world out there."

"f.u.c.k, yes it is." I finish my drink and feel my head spin. I'm about to order another and drown my pretty much entirely imagined woes when Ben calls. My heart flutters like it did before. "h.e.l.lo?" I say, not sure what I should feel.

Why do I let people get in my head so much?

"Hey," he says. "What are you doing?"

"Getting drunk with my boss," I answer, eyeing Cameron. "You?"

He lets out a breath. "Just got done talking with a pain-in-the-a.s.s client. I don't do completely custom work, ya know? Don't tell me what to paint then have me paint it. I don't work like that."

"Yeah," I say then fall silent.

"I was going to ask you out to dinner, but I guess if you're already out I won't. I miss you."

And just like that my heart melts.

"Want to join us?" I ask without giving Cam the chance to object.

"Your boss won't mind? And you don't mind? I don't want to bother you."

"Not at all. I'd love for you to join us. I'm kinda drunk, and could use a DD."

"Are you drunk and frisky?"

I laugh. "Always." I tell him where we are and hang up. "You don't mind, do you?" I ask Cameron.

"Actually, I'm really curious to meet this guy. So no, not at all."

"Good."

"You should call in sick tomorrow," Ben says, hands going under my shirt. He pushes me back on my bed. We got back from the restaurant a while ago, and I successfully convinced Ben to watch the first episode of Game of Thrones with me. Now he's hooked.

Mission complete.

"Cam would know I'm faking for sure."

"Nah, say you got food poisoning."

"We had the same thing." Ben puts himself between my legs. "But no one questions explosive diarrhea."

"Hah, so true. Is being hungover a good enough excuse?" He lowers his head and kisses my neck. "Or losing control over the lower half of your body after I f.u.c.k you so hard you can't walk?"

Hot d.a.m.n. My lips press together and curve into a smile. My eyes widen and my v.a.g.i.n.a quivers. "I've never thought there would be any words I'm unable to say to my boss, but those might be it."

Ben laughs and kisses me, trailing his lips down my neck and across my collar bone. "And now you have to follow through on that promise."

"I won't disappoint." He sticks his fingers inside my leggings, which are navy blue and covered in glow-in-the-dark stars and moons. The TV is the only source of light in the room, but the pattern still gives off a soft glow. Ben peels them off and tosses them on the floor. He moves back, accidentally knocking the TV remote onto the ground. It bounces closer to me, and I lean over to get it but end up tumbling off the bed. I land hard, laughing.

"Are you okay?" Ben asks, holding back a chuckle.

"I think so," I say and push myself up, feeling super s.e.xy on all fours. I whacked my shin on the nightstand on the way down. I stand and wince. "That's gonna bruise."

I toss Ben the remote and click on the bedside light to look at the angry red spot on my leg.

"Ouch," he says and takes my leg in his hands. I'm so glad I shaved this morning. His lips brush against my skin.

"They're going to have to amputate it, I just know."

"Most likely. That's a very serious injury. Looks infected for sure. We better cut it off now before the infection spreads."

"Just call me Peg-leg Pete, the pirate."

Ben laughs. "I won't be calling you Pete anytime soon, but I'd be okay with the pirate part."

"You have a thing for pirates?"

"I might. And it might have to do with the fact that the first-ever p.o.r.no I watched was called p.u.s.s.y Pirates."

I can't control the giggle that comes from my mouth. "You're not supposed to admit stuff like that, right?"

He shrugs. "Why not? It's not like it's a secret men like p.o.r.n. And jerking off. Though I haven't watched p.o.r.n since we've been together, if that makes you feel better."

"It does," I say and repeat his words in my head. Not the ones about p.o.r.n, because I don't really care. Some of the things I look at on Tumblr are p.o.r.nographic, after all. It's the part where he said "since we've been together." We're together? We're an item? Officially? Is that how it works in the adult world? You just date and f.u.c.k and grow close then just a.s.sume you're together until one day someone drops down on a knee and offers a ring?

s.h.i.t.

I need to know this.

Cosmo, you've failed me. Again. Except for that tip about curling my eyelashes before I put on mascara. That's actually a good tip. Thanks for that one.

"I have a pirate costume," I blurt, needing to say something to keep myself from freaking out. Is Ben my boyfriend? Should I change my Facebook status? Why hadn't he changed his? Seriously, grow the f.u.c.k up, Felicity. That shouldn't be a first thought.

"You do?" he asks, voice dropping. His hands travel up my thighs. "Want to put it on?"

I smile. "I suppose I can. But only because you're asking so nice," I whisper and lean forward, brushing my lips against his neck as I talk. I get up and go into the spare room, which houses my sewing stuff. The closet is full of costumes. I remove my clothes and hang then on the chair by my sewing table. The pirate costume is in the back of the closet, and it takes for-freaking-ever to get the corset laced up by myself. I laced it backward, then pretty much sc.r.a.ped my nipples off turning the tight leather corset around. I decided to forgo the white chemise that goes underneath.

I hike up the skirts, pull on fishnets and tall leather boots, then put on my hat and grab a LARP sword. It's shiny and made of real metal, but the edges are dull enough that I won't have to worry about skewering Ben as he plunders me.

I slow as I walk back to my bedroom. I've worn costumes a million times. I prefer them to "normal" clothes, anyway. Yet this is the first time I've donned something for this reason.

A s.e.x reason.

Excitement rushes through me. Excitement, and desire. I step into the room, trying to think of something s.e.xy to say that has to do with pirates. "Swab me p.o.o.p deck" comes to mind, but there's something so non-s.e.xy about p.o.o.p, I can't use that line. Even if I was into a.n.a.l-I haven't tried it ... yet-reminding Ben that where he's about to stick it is next to my personal sewage system is a mood killer for sure.

"Ahoy, matey," I say instead.

Ben sits up, mouth opening just a bit as he looks at me. I come over to the bed and he grabs me around the waist. "I'm going to shiver your timbers, baby," he says and we both laugh. "I have no idea what that means, by the way. Just know I'm not going to stop f.u.c.king you until you're screaming my name."

"Yo ho-ohhh!" He puts himself between my legs, hard already.

"I kind of want to make up a story," he admits as his tongue runs along my ear.

"You mean like role-play pirates?"

"Why not?"

I haven't role played anything in bed before. My heart speeds up with fear of sounding stupid or messing this up somehow. "We're forbidden lovers? I'm a pirate captain's daughter and you're the general of the British army?"

He nods. "Stop trying to temp me to do the wrong thing," he says and lifts up my skirts. Is this really happening? Ben is actually into role-playing pirates of all things? f.u.c.k being friend-zoned. If this is what the friend zone gets me, then I should have taken a seat here long ago.

Channeling my inner pirate wench makes me a bit of a dominatrix. I flip Ben over and climb on top, looking down over my t.i.ts at him. "You have to be quiet," I say. "Or my father will hear us. He will kill you if he sees us together."

He reaches up, hands resting on my sides, which are more p.r.o.nounced in this tight-a.s.s corset. "It's worth the risk," he says.

And then we're kissing, his hard c.o.c.k pressing against me, begging to be let in and allowed to plunder me into oblivion. I hold out, even though I'm craving him just as much, slowly removing his clothes until he's lying there completely naked while I'm still fully dressed in my costume.

The light is still on next to the bed. It's the first time I get to take my time and look at Ben, to admire his naked body. He's like a work of art himself. Muscles and tattoos, tan skin, dark hair and eyes. Each is gorgeous on its own. Put them all together and he's a f.u.c.king masterpiece.

And then there is his c.o.c.k.

Holy s.h.i.t. That d.i.c.k though.

I'm not one to inherently think a p.e.n.i.s is beautiful. They're kinda misshaped most of the time, a little too veiny with an odd-looking mushroom tip. They serve one h.e.l.l of a purpose, but to look at ... not so much.

But not this glorious d.i.c.k that's at full mast in front of me. Looking at it turns me on, makes me want it inside me-my mouth, my v.a.g.i.n.a, h.e.l.l maybe I'll try it up the back door. His c.o.c.k is long and thick, with enough girth to fill me completely and then some. The veins run along the shaft, and the whole thing is nicely attached to neatly trimmed b.a.l.l.s.