I put the vaginal cream on my fingers before circling my clitoris with slow, deliberate strokes. A shuddering breath escaped me. “Ohhh, yes…” My free hand gripped the edge of the cast, fingers digging into the unyielding surface as if I could anchor myself to the pleasure. I clenched around my fingers, my thighs slick with arousal. I pulled my fingers out with a wet pop, bringing them to my mouth. The salty, musky taste made my head spin. I sucked them clean.

Kent visited me the next day. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud, heavy, electric, impossible to ignore. He’s everywhere, his movements deliberate, his touch lingering. He chooses my clothes, holding up dresses that are shorter, tighter, designed to slip over my cast with ease and lets be honest show off my assets.