TieD Up For Christmas

Ava returned to Jenna's couch, her legs curled beneath her, watching the clock tick past 11:45 p.m.

The silence that had settled in Jenna's living room after Ava's admission felt thick and heavy with unspoken judgment and wild anticipation.

Outside, the soft, relentless sound of falling snow was the only thing disturbing the stillness.

"Look, it's not too late to call this off," Marisol said gently. She was pacing the floor, her mug of hot chocolate abandoned on the coffee table. Her concern was a palpable, warm veil in Jenna's apartment, almost making Ava want to lean into the comfort of her friend's concern.

Jenna, meanwhile, was buzzing with a nervous energy that was the exact opposite of Marisol's concern.

She sat ramrod straight next to Ava, sipping her wine so fast she risked staining the white rug.

"Yeah, I mean, Mari's right. You can always bail. You can tell him you had a sudden family emergency if things get awkward. Or, hell, you can send him an anonymous text that says, 'answer the door. It's your lawyer neighbor, and she's horny.'"

"No," Ava said, her voice quiet but firm, cutting through Jenna's frantic attempt at humor.

She didn't look at either of them; her gaze was fixed on the second hand of the clock, willing it to move faster. She wanted this over with. "I'm doing this."

She felt the panic trying to rise, a cold, sharp feeling in her chest, the same way she felt before a major, career-defining court trial. But she ruthlessly pushed it down. She had a plan. Lawyers executed plans. They didn't retreat because of a little fear.

She had faced down senior partners, intimidated witnesses, and argued against some of the fiercest litigators in the city. She could handle knocking on a young man's door.

(No strings. No expectations. Just sex. It's a physical need, like hunger or sleep, and I have a solution living thirty feet away.)

"But, Ava, come on," Marisol pleaded, stopping in front of her. "You don't even know him. We don't know anything about him, not even his full name! Just... just his skills. And frankly, that skill is concerning! What if he's, like, very lacking down there?"

Ava snorted, a small, wry sound. "He's a man who enjoys sex, Mari. Loudly. I'm sure the girls he's been fucking don't care how small or big he is if they continue to go back. And that's all I need to know for this purpose. And as for not knowing him... that's the point."

She turned to Marisol, finally meeting her eyes.

She offered a strained, genuine smile. "It's the safest option. No emotional entanglement. He's a stranger, and I need a transaction. This is just... a service. Think of him as a highly specialized, very convenient contractor for our firm."

"A contractor of chaos!" Jenna exclaimed, raising her glass. "I like it."

Marisol threw a cushion at Jenna, who dodged it with a cackle. "This isn't funny, Jenna! Ava, look at me. You are emotionally vulnerable right now. You're coming off years of being told your body is faulty, that you're not 'wet enough.' What if this goes wrong? What if he's cruel? Or what if he laughs at you?"

That hit a nerve. Ava felt a sharp jab of insecurity. The memory of Henry's refusal, the painful entry, and her subsequent pleading for Henry to just fuck her like that was still a raw wound. That failure had haunted her sex life, or lack thereof, for a decade.

"That's why I want Noah," Ava confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He doesn't know any of that history, and I don't intend to tell him. He has no emotional investment. I can tell him exactly what I need...and he'll treat it like a job. A performance. He'll be professional. He has to be, given the sheer number of... clients he seems to service."

Jenna nodded sagely. "The sheer number suggests high-level client management. Five stars on Google review, I bet."

"I'll be fine, Mari, really," Ava reassured her best friend, placing a hand on Marisol's knee. She pulled herself upright, forcing her shoulders back into their courtroom posture. "If I back out now, I'll never do it. I'll keep listening through the wall, starving myself of an experience that my toys are probably tired of making up for. I'm tired of feeling left out of my own life."

Marisol sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat, but her eyes remained worried. "Okay. Okay. Just... promise me you'll use protection. Lord knows how many girls he's fucked raw. And if you feel even slightly uncomfortable or he tries to take advantage, you walk straight out of that door, you hear me? You call the police, you call us, you scream...whatever you need to do."

"I promise, Mari. And I have my keys and my phone, right here in my coat pocket." She tapped the fabric to prove it.

Jenna checked her watch. "Twelve o'clock sharp. Just enough time for Noah to catch his breath before the next performance."

"Jenna!" Marisol hissed.

"Sorry. But it's true! Timing is everything, Ava. You don't want to walk in on a girl still tying her shoes."

Ava found herself laughing, a nervous, shaky sound that broke the tension. "Thanks, Jenna. That's... helpful."

"And one last thing," Jenna said, her expression suddenly serious. "The age thing. If he looks like a teenager playing dressup, you walk away. If he's under twenty-five, he should have a note from his mother."

"I agree with Jenna on that," Marisol chimed in, relieved to have a concrete boundary with Jenna. "Don't break any laws, Ava."

"Girls, you know it's not illegal to sleep with men older than twenty-two, right?" Ava teased.

Marisol scowled while Jenna grimaced.

"Yeah, yeah...I know but we're not men, Ava. Younger men are all right, I suppose, but like, you're a lawyer, making your own bank. He's still in college, you're miles ahead of him...there's nothing he can give you right now besides his cock. And we all know how very insecure men tend to be when their girlfriends are doing better than they are." Jenna advised, being all serious.

Marisol once again agreed with Jenna. "She's right, Ava. The truth of the matter is that we don't know what he's like. Just walk away if he seems too young."

"Okay, I'll walk," Ava promised.

"Still, I'm thirty-two. I'm hoping he's at least twenty-five. I'll make a judgment call. If he looks like he should be studying for finals, I'm bailing. Happy?"

(Please, God, let him not be nineteen.) Ava prayed silently.

The clock chimed, a soft, electronic chime that sounded deafening in the suddenly quiet room.

Midnight.

"That's my cue," Ava said, standing up. The wine and the sudden certainty of her decision made her movements feel a little shaky, but she focused on the necessity of the act. This wasn't a choice; it was a deadline she had to meet, a box she had to tick for her own well-being.

Jenna jumped off the couch and grabbed Ava in a bone-crushing hug. "Go get 'em, tiger! And if he says no, which by the way is impossible because girl, even in your Winnie the Pooh PJs, you're still taking it!!...you come right back down here. We'll order pizza, watch trash TV, and get blackout drunk. Deal?"

"Deal." Ava laughed, happy to have her friends' support.

Marisol was next, her hug softer, more protective. "Be safe, honey. Text us if you don't feel like coming back down here. Even if it's just a thumbs-up emoji."

Ava nodded, pulling her coat tight around her, the adrenaline spiking. She took one last, deep breath in the warmth of Jenna's apartment, then stepped into the cool hallway.