The first time is always the easiest to lie about.
"It was just one time."
That's what Tessy kept whispering to herself like a lullaby turned into poison. Like repetition might wash her hands clean of the sin, the sweat, the moan, and the betrayal dripping off her skin that night.
But the guilt? That shit stuck. Like glitter. Everywhere, impossible to scrub off.
She sat on the bathroom floor of her penthouse apartment, legs pulled to her chest, eyes stinging with leftover mascara and truth. Her robe hung open, and she could still smell David on her body—his cologne, his cum, the heat of their last fuck pressed into her skin like a brand.
Kiesha was still texting her. Friendly, bubbly, full of love.
Kiesha had no idea her man had been buried between Tessy's thighs an hour before sending that heart emoji.
Tessy threw her phone across the tiles. It hit the bathtub and clattered to the ground.
She hated herself in that moment. And that scared her, because even hating herself didn't make her stop.
They met again. Of course they did.
Same hotel. Same room. Different positions.
He walked in, didn't speak. Just kissed her like he had a right to her breath. She let him. Let him lift her onto the dresser and part her thighs like a secret he'd been dying to read out loud.
She gasped.
"Dig in till I want no more," she moaned, biting his neck, "but I'll keep on with you till I die."
He growled into her shoulder. "Say it again."
"I want you to fuck me like you hate how much you love my pussy."
He obeyed. Rough. Hungry. Reckless.
He bent her over the desk, the glass cools under her chest. "You slut," he whispered, slamming into her. "You like sneaking behind your best friend?"
She bit her lip, muffling the scream. "Keep going. Go harder. Harder."
The drawers shook with every thrust. Papers scattered. She didn't care.
Later, her legs numb, her lips swollen, she stared at the ceiling and whispered, "Shame wears on me like an apparel. I don't even flinch anymore."
The next day, Kiesha and Tessy met at their usual brunch spot.
"Girl, you are glowing," Kiesha said, sipping mimosa.
Tessy smiled. A hollow smile. "Just good lighting."
Kiesha laughed. "Nah, that's dick-glow. Don't lie."
Tessy nearly choked on her croissant. "What?"
Kiesha winked. "I know that look. You're getting dicked down. Spill."
And for a second, Tessy almost told her.
Almost.
Instead, she said, "It's no one serious. Just a little fun."
Kiesha grinned. "As long as he's not someone I know."
Boom. There it was.
Guilt hit her like a slap.
She wanted to run. Wanted to cry. Instead, she took another bite and smiled through the acid in her throat.
That night, Tessy stood by the window, watching the city lights blink like the truths she kept hiding in the shadows.
She grabbed her journal.
Page one: Things I Regret but Would Do Again
And under it, she wrote:
1. David.
He texted her later.
David: "I can't stop thinking about you."
Tessy: "Come over."
David: "Your place or the hotel?"
Tessy: "Door's open."
When he arrived, she didn't say a word. Just kissed him, slow, deep, like she wanted to taste his lies.
He picked her up, carried her to the bed.
She spread wide.
"My pussy can't wait to have you in," she whispered. "My doors are wide open for you to cum in me."
He didn't hesitate. Just slid in like he belonged.
She clutched him tighter.
"Fuck me till the pain leaves. Till all the guilt drowns."
His breath was ragged.
"I don't want to stop. Ever."
She smiled. "Then don't."
They didn't.
They fucked till sunrise.
Morning.
Silence.
He was gone.
A note on the pillow:
"Last night was the last. I can't keep doing this to her."
Tessy sat up slowly. The sheets were cold where he used to lie.
She read the note again. And again.
And then she laughed. Bitter. Broken.
He was right.
It was just one time.
Again.