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said. “It can never happen again.”
    “It’s not our fault. We didn’t ask to feel this way. We do though. And it’s beautiful,” I said.
    He shook his head.
    “Did I not make your cock feel good, Jake,” I asked.
    He recoiled.
    Shit.
    Wrong time to try to talk dirty.
    I had no consistent experience with when the right time was.
    He looked at me with cold steel in his sky blue eyes.
    “That has nothing to do with it,” he said. “Any dumb whore can make my cock feel good.”
    So I was a dumb whore now?
    How fucking dare he.
    “It’s done,” he said. “We can’t change that. But we can never speak of it again.”
    The limo arrived and we sat for a moment in silence. Terrible, lonely silence.
    The Hotel Plaza Athenee was a decadent affair. It had a luxurious Parisian feel. Red canopies covered arched white marble window sills. Huge crystal chandeliers with gold fittings and dark wood furniture peeked through the latticed glass.
      A valet in a crisp white uniform opened the limo door for us and welcomed us back for the evening. Another attendant opened the hotel door.  
    This place was over the top.
    This was my first trip to Paris, but I knew this was not like most places, here or anywhere for that matter. Everything was opulent, with polished woods and plush fabrics. It looked like some of the pictures I’d pulled up of the palace at Versailles. Like that kind of ornate furnishing but with a modern edge.
    Jake of course covered everything. The hotel suite. The dinners out. The guided tours. All of it. He never expected it to be otherwise.
    I followed in silence to our top floor suite. He strolled in like he owned it. Maybe he did.  
    I, on the other hand, was still befuddled by the size. By the elegance. It wasn’t normal for a hotel room to be bigger than most people’s houses. Not in my world at least.
    I liked it.
    I felt guilty, but still, I liked it.
    But all the luxury in the world meant nothing if Jake didn’t want me any more. I couldn’t stand the thought.
    We walked in the front hall and Jake hung up his coat. He took my scarf and hung it on the opposite side of the coat rack, as far from his jacket as possible.
    “Jake, is that you,” a voice echoed from down the hall. His room was down the entry hall, through the living room, through the dining room, and down another short hall. The voice sounded young and had an accent. A German accent. A furious German accent.
    Why was Annika here?
    That bitch.
    Did Jake invite her?
    “Jake, who is that?”
    The words came out way harsher than I hoped they would.
    His mouth creased shut and the edges dipped down.
    “Go to sleep,” he said, “Let’s put this behind us.”
    “I’m sorry, Jake,” I said.
    I wanted to hug him. But if he rejected me, I knew I would collapse right there. My body convulsed as a sob built in my chest.  
    “Stop it,” he said. “Go to your room.”
    He gestured down the hall. I sniffed away a tear and nodded to him.
    “Good night, Jake,” I said.
    Yelling in earnest started a minute later. Annika was pissed. He was pissed at Annika.
    Good.
    Their, and mostly her, screaming lasted ten minutes and then went quiet. Cue the silent treatment. Or had they worked it out? What was she doing waiting in his room anyway?
    Was I just another bimbo now? Yet another conquest to be tossed aside to the gutter?
    I certainly didn’t fit the mold.
    My stomach roiled and flopped. I felt the urge to puke. I took a big drink of water and exhaled.
    I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I was a wreck. My eyes were puffy, two dams about to break. I peeled out of the ruined dress and noticed dried patches of blood and cum on my thighs.  
    Who knew your first time would be so messy?
    I hopped in the shower and cranked up the hot water. The shower head was one of those waterfall kinds in the ceiling above your head. The walls had a bewildering array of nozzles and levers. It had taken me twenty minutes to turn on the first