By: Jennifer Michael

“Hey ya, neighbor!” he calls out as I slow my jog.

The phrase, Die, motherfucker. Die, chants through my mind.

That’s the main problem with these RV parks—nosy fucking neighbors.

I just stare at him, not wanting to give off the impression that I’m open to this visit. The old man’s eyebrows are so bushy, they look like caterpillars, and his white hair has far receded from his forehead. His ears stick out, and his nose is covered in age spots. Besides those obvious signs of his age, he appears much younger than I’m guessing he is, and nothing about this man is frail.

“You finally finished setting up, and I figured I’d come over and introduce myself. Officially welcome you to the neighborhood. The name’s Willy, and my lot is right next door.”

I stand next to Willy, my new neighbor, whom I have no interest in chatting with.

“I’m not one for company, Willy. I appreciate you stopping by, but don’t make it a habit.” I nod at him and head toward my door, leaving him sitting in front of my place. I don’t need some lonely old man stopping by and making things difficult for me. I have work that needs to be done. Then, I’m out of here, and Willy can make friends with whoever parks their home in my lot next.

Besides, I have four more marks to hunt down.


“I’m having second thoughts.” Tatum tries to backpedal.

“Tatum, this was your idea.”

“Not exactly. You asked me what my fantasy was, and I answered you. I didn’t think that meant I would actually be acting out that fantasy in front of strangers.”

Utopia was closed for three days after the body was found. After a lot of persuasion and a few drinks, I convinced Tatum to check out the club for the first time. It was harder than I’d thought it would be to get her to agree, but once I explained that she would be in a probationary period for a week and that no one was going to touch her, she gave it a chance. We’ve been back three more times since then, but neither one of us has to wear the red lanyard tonight.

“It’s just sex, Tatum. Every person is there for the same thing. No one will judge you.”

“Then, why are we getting all dressed up?”

She fidgets with the lace garter I just helped her put on.

“No one is going to judge you for acting out your sexual fantasies, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look hot while doing so. It’s part of the fun.” She doesn’t look convinced, so I gesture to the full-length mirror and say, “Seriously, look at yourself. You’re fucking smoking, and anyone who looks at you tonight will see that.”

“Having people look at me when I’m wearing next to nothing is kind of what I’m afraid of.”

I want to scoff at her. She really is being ridiculous.

“This is about freedom and acting on your desires, which is what you said you wanted. We can call the whole thing off if you’re really not okay with it. It’s totally up to you.”

Tatum takes a deep breath. “Nope. I’m not backing out. Just don’t let me do anything stupid, okay?”

“I promise. Now, throw on that trench coat, and let’s go.”

Tatum’s nerves bounce from the roof of my car to the floorboard for the entire ride to the club. I have some jitters myself, but they aren’t half as bad as hers are. I’m more excited than anything. We’re killing two birds with one stone today—one of Tatum’s fantasies and one of mine. We don’t have to go to the club for her to experience being with a woman, but we do for mine. Crazed eagerness and fascination tingle throughout my body as we pull up to Utopia.

I’m a woman unleashed, unchained from bland confinement.

We check in quickly and settle in the lounge in order to ease our way in.

The first time I was here, people were practically standing shoulder to shoulder. After the incident, the club hasn’t been as busy. A few people mingle around us. Men and women come in and out of the door that leads to the back, which is where we will be going tonight. Each and every one of them has a look of satisfaction on their face.

“Still nervous?” I ask Tatum, barely managing to tear my eyes away from the man who just walked out from behind the door.