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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Rumpelstiltskin, the Friesian the horse master was now leading away.
The violent sex scenes, numerous and full of dubious consent at best, had only been the poisonous icing atop a cake already tainted by toxic masculinity.
No, he wasn’t going anywhere near that misogynistic train wreck of a movie, or that genial predator of a director.
Only to discover that some of the stories, the best ones, echoed and expressed insights about his character and the show that he hadn’t shared with anyone but Alex. Only to find he could use modern technology to make reading so, so much easier than he remembered.
That night, for the first time, he read something other than scripts of his own volition. Without pressure. Without stakes. For sheer enjoyment, about something he valued. About something where he was the expert, for once. It was life-altering. Triumphant, in ways he couldn’t fully express, to discover that he could read and love it, entirely for himself and no one else.
He hoped Brent Whittier had a stick or a chew toy available, because the Well-Groomed Golden Retriever had come to play.
She hadn’t explained the abject humiliation of realizing a man who’d just seen her naked, who’d just been inside her, wanted her to have a different body instead, and she hadn’t shared her heartbroken rage when that same man would expect her to get naked, spread her legs, and offer her deficient body to him again, regardless.
