Getting In (Amanda's Trilogy) by Isabella Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

thinking, “Oh shit. Here we go again.”
    Lisette looks up at her from the floor, her big round eyes wide, moist with tears.
    “It’s all right, ma’am,” Tyrell says, stroking Lisette’s ass. “I’m going to go gentle on her. I want her first time with a man to be real nice.”
    Now it’s my turn to gasp.

CHAPTER NINE

    “Amanda?”
    I’m standing in line at the busy Starbucks near Columbus Circle when I hear someone say my name softly behind me. It’s so soft it almost sounds like one of those tricks of the ear. I turn around, and standing two people behind me, off to the side, is Lisette.
    “Hi,” I respond as evenly as I can. It’s my turn to order, so I turn back to the cashier, relieved that I have a minute to figure out how I’m going to handle a chance meeting with Lisette. Should I go get my black coffee at the end of the counter, wave bye to her, and be on my way? Or wait for her until she’s got her order? Usually I know the right thing to do in social situations without thinking too hard about it. But how do you handle bumping into a girl who, a few nights ago, you watched get whipped and paddled by a psycho, then almost fucked to death by the Black Stallion? Even if she is an actress?
    My brain for the last few days has been a mess. The session? Appointment? Whatever you call it, it ended abruptly after I stood up and informed Jennifer in no uncertain terms that I’d had enough, I wasn’t about to watch even a fake virgin get her cherry popped like this for my kicks. I figured Jennifer would try to string me up on her sadistic jungle gym for punishment. Instead she told Tyrell and Lisette to stop, and she ushered me out of the room and instructed Naoko to arrange for my ride home. If she was angry with me, she was good at hiding it. My outburst had even surprised myself, and during my ride home that night in the back of the Town Car, it dawned on me that I’m not as cold as I think I am. There must be a little empathy in this dark heart of mine if can feel bad for someone.
    Which makes me decide to wait at the end of the counter. It’s not the ideal place to tell Lisette I’m sorry for what happened to her the other night, but it may be my only chance. Last night I decided: screw it. If this is what I have to do to get into Lexington, count me out. I’ll suffer my parents’ wrath. I may even tell them about the card and Valerie Gowan and the whole sordid story about Getting In , as humiliating as it may be. Not the sex part of it, but that I was gullible enough to allow myself to be recruited into a BDSM club run by freaks who’ve claimed they can keep me out of a college my parents practically own. If my sister Anne finds out, I’ll never live it down.
    Lisette pulls herself out of line and walks over to me. It’s strange seeing her in this normal setting, with the coffee machine hissing in the background, and harried office workers jostling us as they pick up their orders. Her thick brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail, her face is scrubbed free of any makeup, and she’s dressed like a preppy college kid: tan jeans, a black cashmere v-neck sweater peeking through her Barbour jacket and the requisite Hunter rubber boots. She’s got a shopping bag clutched in her hands.
    “Fancy meeting you here,” I say, blowing on my coffee so I can take a sip of it. She smiles, a broad happy smile that lights up her face. She’s even prettier than I remember. Her eyes, a clear green, are friendly, innocent, trusting.
    “It’s strange,” she says. “I’m always in here and I’ve never seen you before.”
    “I don’t get over here much. I needed to pick something up at the Time-Warner Center.”
    “Can we talk?” she asks. “Maybe over in the park?”
    Relief floods through my body, but I play it cool. “Sure. I’ve got a few minutes.”
    We leave the coffee shop and make our way through the crowds in Columbus Circle, out in full force on a bright, chilly April afternoon. Then we