EPISODE 2: The next week

For the next few days Harper tried to avoid Elena. It was strange, not talking to her. She was close with all her friends but without a doubt closest of all to her. They would interact in their group chats, all that sort of thing. But between the two of them alone there was an unusual quiet. She had spent the week the same as all the rest: lying around her tiny apartment, eating whatever she found the energy to make, trying to avoid going back to the computer and the men waiting on the other side of the screen, failing. Then the text arrived:

ELENA: So are you going to let me in?

She doesn’t know what to say. This one-word text was enough to put her back in that place. Harper hadn’t showered that morning or the day before that. She was wearing shorts and a sports bra. Elena would be disgusted. Maybe that was why she decided to write back after all.

HARPER: Are you here right now?

ELENA: Right downstairs. Just buzz me in.

Harper thinks twice. She should have called. But they aren’t actually fighting. It’s just that Harper hasn’t been able to think of what to say to her since she ran. Her apartment is a mess—clothes scattered, dishes piled up, and a general air of neglect. But after a moment's consideration, she knows avoiding Elena solves nothing. She heads to the buzzer to let her best friend up. A few minutes later there’s a knock. Harper opens the door to find Elena standing there, her usual bright and polished self, with an oversized handbag and oversized sunglasses and an oversized smile.

“Did a tornado hit this place?” Elena teases. She gives Harper a once-over. “Is this an attempt at sporty chic? You look very… relaxed.”

Harper flushes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You weren’t the only one who had a rough time.” She grins. Always with the double entendres. “I missed you when you left, though. It’s not the same without you.”

Harper looks up, her eyes meeting Elena’s. “I missed you too. What happened?”

Elena raises an eyebrow. “Oh, now you want the scoop? I’m flattered, I suppose. But what kind of slut do you take me for?”

Harper chuckles nervously. “I’m just asking.”

Elena is clearly enjoying the chance to share. “Alright, alright. You want the details? Here’s: after you left, Jacob and I had a bit of a whirlwind in the bathroom. It was intense. You warmed him up for me. Once he’d had his fun, Andrew and I had our own rendezvous.”

Harper’s eyes widen. “Both of them? In one night?”

Elena smiles. “It was quite the night. We took our time, enjoyed every second. And inch.”

Harper can’t help but feel a mix of intrigue and arousal. “And Andrew?”

“Andrew was different,” Elena continues, her voice lowering. “He’s more intense. It was rougher, but in a good way. A little dommy. But I like that.”

“Which one did you like better?” Harper wasn’t sure why she was asking.

Elena taps on her chin, staring down her nose at her friend. “Jacob was more sensual, attentive. But Andrew fucked the shit out of me. It depends on what you’re in the mood for. I guess you could say it’s a tie, depending on the night. Oh, but wouldn’t that have been fun? I haven’t been tied up in forever.”

“Oh,” says Harper.

It seemed that Elena wasn’t finished. “After Jacob came in me, I thought I’d cool off a bit. But then Andrew came in with this energy—just couldn’t resist. We finally got back to the bedroom then. It was wild. Lots of passion, lots of noise. My bruises are only just starting to go away now.”

Harper listens, overwhelmed but unable to tear her eyes away. Her mouth has run dry.