The next day

It's now the third day following your revelation about your own sexuality on Wednesday night. Thursday, you went to Emily's and somehow ended up sleeping with her mother, a woman you've known for nearly a decade. Friday, you and Liz Fowler went to the mall to buy lingerie together. If anyone had told you that this would be the shape of your week before a few days ago, you would have called them a crazy pervert.

Does that make you a crazy pervert?

Today is Saturday. It's almost time. Liz will be here soon to pick you up. After tonight, you'll have slept with both her and her husband, both of your best friend's parents. You can only imagine what she would say to you if she knew what you've been doing lately.

You put on the bodysuit that Liz recommended under a red dress that you bought months ago but have never worn. You're hardly a curvy woman, but the outfit-- lingerie and the dress combined-- makes you feel like a sexual goddess. You really lay on the makeup, heavy eyeshadow, thick wings on your eyes, your lips bright red to match the dress. It's difficult to decide what to do with your hair, but you ultimately settle on classic movie-star curls. You look amazing.

"Outside," Liz's text reads at 8 on the dot. "No rush."

You rush anyway, all ready to go. You skip-walk to the car in your heels, your clutch in your hand, and get into the passenger side door of the Fowlers' van.

"Wow!" Liz says, kissing you on the cheek. "You look gorgeous, dear." It's a compliment like the same sort she's always given you over the years, before school dances, before prom, before nights out with Emily. Of course, it sounds different to your ear now. Now, you hear the lust in it. "Mr. Fowler is already at the hotel. He's excited to see you."

That's so weird, you think. Has Emily's father thought of you this way before? It's a little gross to think about, but also a little hot, too.

"We should head out," Liz says.