“Oh, I’m going to…come,” I panted, moments later. “Is that…oh, God, is that OK?”
She hummed around me, and that was all it took. Moaning, panting, and shivering with my release, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d ever considered rejecting her. Nothing had ever felt this good. I stroked her hair, opened my eyes, and looked at her. She smiled widely and pulled herself up, using my forearms as leverage.
“Why did you do that?” I asked, drawing a deep breath.
She smirked and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “Thank you for killing the eight-legged monster.”
“I didn’t do it because I wanted you to do, um, that,” I assured her, motioning to the floor.
“I know,” she said simply.
My stomach growled and I realized that I was completely ravenous.
“Hmm, I guess I’m not the only one who gets hungry from fucking,” she chuckled. “I’ll order us some pizza, OK?”
I nodded and put my clothes back in place, all the while trying to figure out what the protocol was in this type of situation. I had shown up at her door intent on telling her that I didn’t want a physical relationship, and not even ten minutes later, she had performed oral sex on me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I watched as she grabbed her phone and started poking at the screen.
“What do you want on your half?” she asked.
“You’re texting the pizza place?”
She laughed. “No, I’m using their app. How do you order your pizza?”
“Um, with a menu and a phone call,” I said, feeling ancient.
She laughed again and gave me a smile. “You’re funny. What did you want on your half?”
I’m funny? I’ve never been told that before.
“Whatever you’re having, I’m not picky,” I said, sitting down in her beat-up armchair.
I looked around her small apartment and cringed inwardly. I had forgotten about the clutter and tried to focus on something besides the urge to start organizing her books and papers, which I was sure would offend her.
“There,” she said, poking the screen one last time. “It should be here soon. What would you like to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having,” I repeated.
She walked into the kitchen and I sat there wondering if I could leave without being rude. She wanted me to stay for some food, but would she want me to stay longer? Once again, she’d pleasured me without getting anything in return, so did that mean that she’d like to have sex now, like last time? I was in completely over my head.
At least I didn’t pass out on her again.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me a strange-looking bottle.
“Um, what is it?” I asked.
“A microbrew. You’ll like it,” she said with more confidence than I felt by looking at it. “It’s beer.”
I took a sip and found that I did actually like it a lot. I gave her a smile.
“Told you,” she said smugly. “I think I know what you like.”
“Evidently,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush when my eyes darted to the spot where she’d been on her knees only minutes earlier. “You must be a mind reader.”
She snorted and flopped down on the bed. “It doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out that you like beer and blowjobs, Stephen. I’m pretty sure that just proves you have a Y chromosome.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling embarrassed again. She was so comfortable talking about sex and I’d never encountered such brazenness in a woman before. The only people I discussed such matters with were Richard, when I’d gotten the standard speech at age fourteen, and my brother, when he regaled me with stories of his many conquests, although I repeatedly told him that I wasn’t interested in hearing them.
“Do you like doing it?” I blurted out.
“Blowing you?” She grinned. “Sure, what’s not to like?”
“Please don’t call it that,” I groaned, closing my eyes. She made the whole thing sound so sordid and carnal, which it obviously was, but I didn’t like to think of it in those terms. I opened my eyes again. She looked like a sweet, innocent girl with her pristine white robe and loose wavy hair, but she talked like an adult film actress. She was completely unashamed about sex, unlike me, who’d always kept it under the covers where I’d always believed it belonged.
“There’s nothing wrong with calling things by their right names, you know?” she said.
“I know,” I muttered, taking another sip of my beer.
“Say ‘blowjob,’ ” she said, raising her chin slightly.