Chaperon

"A few. You just haven't found them yet."

"That sounds like a challenge."

He laughed. "Feel free to pick up the gauntlet."

"Consider it picked up."

Josh got up and set my phone, face down, on the dresser. With any luck, it would shut up now.

I felt the bed give as he positioned himself behind me again. "Let me know if it's too much," he said.

"Okay."

"Try to relax."

Evidently, he'd done this before. He pressed into me just a little and I felt myself stretch to accommodate him. He felt larger than he had anywhere else and I tensed as he pushed.

"Relax," he said again.

"Just stay there for a minute."

Josh bracketed my waist with his strong hands as I willed myself to open for him. "Is this good for you?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," he laughed.

"How much is in?"

"An inch, maybe."

"Feels like a mile."

He was rocking into me, moving slowly in and out in small increments. It was good, and before long, I said, "A little more."

I felt his slow passage into me. There was pain despite the lube, but the pleasure eclipsed it. I was doing it, I thought. "How much," I gasped.

"Half."

I was inordinately pleased that he sounded as wound up as I was.

"I'm not going to last much longer," he said.

"Go for it, then."

Josh repositioned his hands on my waist and was soon thrusting with restrained vigor. I was glad for that. I doubt I could have taken all of him, but vowed that I would someday. Despite his care with me, he was soon gasping along with me. He was close. Soon, he would come...

A massive crash from the other side of the apartment froze us.

Not a second later, the bedroom door burst open. I looked back in time to see a burly cop raising his baton, bringing it down with a fleshy thud across Josh's back.

I think I screamed. I know Josh fell heavily. The cop raised a fist. Josh had no time to block it. I doubt he even saw it coming.

The cop's partner, a woman, pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapped me up in it and ushered me to the living room before I could even compute what was happening. The other cop remained in the bedroom. I felt numb, vibrating. Small and collapsed.

I was settled into an armchair where I drew my legs up to my chest. I looked at the cop.

The cop checked her phone, swiping the screen, reading. "Sarah?"

I nodded.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"I said it was okay," I said. My voice sounded so small and whimpering that I hardly recognized it as my own. I could see into the bedroom. Jake was attempting to sit up, his face twisted in pain. Blood flowed freely from a gash on his forehead. When had that happened? The cop just stood there, still holding his baton, as though daring Josh to move.

At the sight of Josh, his pain and blood, I burst into tears. The cop opposite me gave me a look of professional sympathy, which made it even worse. She passed me a tissue and waited for me to pull myself together. My gaze swivelled between the cop and Josh.

"Were you coerced?" she asked.

I turned my gaze back to her. "Of course not."

Another glance to Josh. What had just happened? One minute, we were getting it on, and the next...

"Are you sure? You're safe now."

"Yes!"

The cop looked at her phone again. "Chaperon has no record of you ever performing this act. It's on your red list too."

"I know," I whispered.

"I guess I don't understand."

"I wanted to."

"You never have before. And it's on the list."

"This was different."

"He disabled the phone."

"I know how this must look..."

The cop's expression changed as realization dawned. I watched as her opinion of me went from victim to idiot. "Shit," she said finally.

"I'm sorry."

"Smith!" she yelled. "We're out of here."

"I'm sorry," I said again, sounding even more pathetic than the last time.

"Update your fucking profile." I jolted at the language.

The cops left without another word. I remained where I was, numb and miserable.

There was a sound and I looked up to see Josh, standing by my chair.

"You'd better leave," he said.

"Let me get you some ice, a cloth, something..."

"No. Leave. Right now."

* * *

She was beautiful. Slim, yet curvy. Short blonde hair in a cute pixie cut. Blue eyes and full, kissable lips. No botox.

We'd bumped into each other on the dance floor. The look she'd given me was equal measures curiosity and hunger.

By some unspoken signal, we retreated to an empty table. She set her phone on the surface and I was surprised at the icon that appeared on the screen. Chaperon. I guess I hadn't misread the hunger part of her look.

I set my phone next to hers and swiped the screen.

"90 percent," she said with a winning, encouraging smile.

"Wait." There was a black asterisk on the heart. I tapped it and read the alert. "You've had some trouble." I read some more. "Police?"

"It was a misunderstanding."

I shook my head. The software was designed to prevent misunderstandings. In the absence of misunderstandings, there was only trouble, even with 90 percent compatibility. "Sorry," I said.

"I've updated the profile," she said. "Broader parameters. I've enabled audio overrides too."

"I can't."

"Look," she said. "I'll update it again. Blanket consent. Anything you want."

I edged away from her. "Sorry, but no."