Page 21 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

My overworked brain is already disputing this at light speed.

“You should be proud of yourself. You’re so worried about making it, but you already made it. You left home, went to a big school in the city. You won no matter what happens now.”

Logically, I know she’s right, but the little version of me with no control over her life remains unconvinced.

Daphne lays her head on my shoulder and I plop mine down too. Like she can read my mind she says, “You’re not a helpless kid anymore. You have power over your life now, and that power is yours to do whatever you want with.”

When I’m stuck in my head like this, Daphne is one of the few who can get through to me. I take a deep breath of stinky subway air, as it shutters to a stop. The doors open and a person in only a painter’s smock enters with some sort of lizard on their shoulder. They nod at us and head to a seat near the back of the car, giving us a full view of their G-string. My clammy nervousness drifts away as Daphne and I share a knowing look and link arms to head up the stairs.

FIFTEEN

wet dreams

Dahlia

Suck my cock,Dahlia. Take my fat load down your throat like the dirty slut you are. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you come.Fingers thread through my hair,tightening, as I hollow my cheeks, doubling my efforts to make the strong man above me come.You like that, don’t you? My pretty bitch likes to be degraded, how cute. Mmmmf, just like that. You’re gonna make me come, Princess.”

The obnoxious shrill of my alarm pierces the air at the ungodly hour of 7 AM and I’m jolted awake from an extremely vivid dream. My fingers drift to my lips, raw from biting them in my sleep.

When I think back to the erotic movie playing through my sleepy brain, I realize the hands gripping my hair were tattooed in a familiar way, the gruff voice so similar to the one I talk to on the phone before bed.

My face flames with the realization my slutty wet dream was of Wesley. As embarrassed as I am, I’m also devastated there’s no time to really indulge the fantasy with my hands between my legs before class.

Shrugging on a pair of black leggings and a well-worn band T-shirt, I’m readying myself for school when the star of my naughty dreams texts me.

Wesley

Have a good day at school, princess. Hope it doesn’t suck dick, get a sweet treat before class, on me.

A notification comes through that he sent me ten dollars. As if I needed any more reasons to be obsessed with this man.

Dahlia

Thank you, my liege.

God, we are dorks.

Wesley

Wouldn’t have it any other way.

Iced strawberry matcha in hand,my beat up, checkered Vans carry my happy ass all the way to my seminar class. I send Wes a selfie, tongue out, enjoying his gift.

Class isn’t too bad today. Thankfully, the instructor took mercy on us and allowed us to discuss some broader mental health themes. My next two classes are community mental health and the thesis course. I’m not thrilled about my professor for the thesis, since he’s a hardass, but I’ll survive.

My community mental health professor is a lovely middle-aged woman, who I’ve had for two other classes. Professor Rosa Walton is smart as hell and always willing to help, which isn’t always the case in academia, as I’ve learned.

Following the dry droning of Dr. Kane, as well as thinly veiled threats disguised as expectations, I’m more anxious about my thesis than ever. He made it seem like very few people do well without a heavy hand of guidance from him. As if he’s some social work deity and not just another sweaty man with a god complex.

Professor Rosa’s energy is certainly kinder and more patient, exactly the kind of social worker I want to be one day.

Today’s class focuses on programs for the elderly, before she previews the plan for the remainder of the semester. I take note of the weeks we’ll focus on grant writing. They’re further away than I’d like, so I consider talking to her sooner about my ideas. With a renewed zest for existing, I pack up to leave, stopping at the professor’s desk on the way out.

“Hi! I’m happy to be in your course again. Community mental health is my area of interest so I’m really looking forward to the semester.” My stomach knots as I wonder if I’m being awkward, but as I typically force myself to do, I continue. “I was wondering if you’d be open to meeting with me to talk more about grant writing? I’m kicking around some ideas for my thesis involving a grant. It’s kind of a lofty goal, but I’m motivated. Your feedback would mean so much to me.”

Asskisser alert, get a grip Dahlia!

“Dahlia, I was happy to see you signed up for this course. Your hard work hasn’t gone unnoticed in my prior classes, and this semester will be no different. I’d love to chat with you more about your ideas. It’s last minute, but I don’t have another meeting until this afternoon, if you’d like to talk now? Otherwise, we can coordinate when it works best for you.”