LISA POVI lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying last night in my head on an endless loop. The pain. The shame. The transaction notification lighting up my phone at 2:47 a.m.When Sasha’s name flashed across the screen, I almost let it ring out. She would keep calling until I answered, though, so I accepted and pressed the phone to my ear.“Hey.”“Lisa.” Her voice carried tight worry. “You didn’t answer last night. I’ve been losing my mind.”“I’m fine.”“Bullshit. What happened? Did he…?”I didn’t answer.Silence stretched between us.“Oh god,” Sasha said. “He did.”“Can we not do this right now?” The sharpness in my voice surprised even me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”“Too bad,” Sasha shot back. “Because we’re talking about it. First of all, I still don’t understand why any woman would willingly subject herself to that. The vagina was not designed for that. It was designed for softness, pleasure, another woman’s touch, not some man’s—”“Sasha.”“I’m just saying!” She huffed
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