How Long You Should Wait to Have Sex: a Novel (23 page)

We are skin to skin now, and he feels so warm and smooth against me. Without any work on our parts, he slips inside of me like two magnets drawn together by their opposite charges.

“Ahhhh…” I whimper, already releasing an hour of built up desire.

I press my feet against the chair’s lower support bars to leverage myself up and back and forth, while my hands grab the back rest, pulling me firmly into him. He feels so hot thrusting inside of me, I never want this feeling to end.

He thrusts me higher until I’m floating above the chair, practically suspended in mid-air by his pelvis, when suddenly, we push the chair back too far, and it falls to the ground.

I throw out my arms, breaking the fall just enough to prevent him from getting a concussion. We burst out laughing, and I let my whole body weight fall over him.

He caresses my back as we lay there recovering, and before long, our hips, still attached, start to move subtly toward each other again in little circles and thrusts, until we are fully refocused on the act at hand.

Now with the chair on the floor, I can wrap my feet around the lower support bars to press his whole backside deeper into me. This is an amazing discovery. He’s deeper in me than he’s ever been before.

I feel him throbbing inside of me, like he’s about to explode and I allow myself to moan louder and louder until we’re both letting everything out at the same time. Coming together is so bonding when it happens. This is the first time it’s happened for us. We both feel it, as we stare in amazement into each other’s eyes.

The sex was so good and so intense, that I hate to have him forget all about it, but I did it to erase our conversation, so I console myself with the fact that I will always keep a fond memory of it, and then I wish myself back in time.

~

John arrives for dinner again and I tell him about pretending to be his own twin if he runs into Henry over the weekend. I let him know that his twin’s name is Greg. He doesn’t argue with me about the name. Now I have to bring up the whole engagement ring business, and since he didn’t respond well to the fake engagement story, this time, I decide to simply go for the real one.

“So, I’ve been thinking lately, about how badly I’d like to sleep with you,” I lead with. I’ve got his full attention.

“You have?” he stutters, “because I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, too. I mean, not just lately, pretty much for the whole time we’ve been dating.” I laugh, and he adds, “But I still think I deserve credit for being a good boy.”

“You do, and I give you that credit. I care about you so much and I trust you, which is why I really want to give in to you.”

“I can’t tell you how much I want that, too.”

“But as you know, I’m waiting until marriage.”
“Right…” John sighs, disappointed at the new turn the conversation has taken.

“So maybe we should get married sooner, rather than—I don’t know, we could finally sleep together, and I would really love that.”

John is silent for a good, long while. I feel a little awkward, but I know I had to do this, because I need to get that ring.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I mean, for the long silence. I was just thinking about it. I need more time to think.”

I nod quietly. It’s only fair.

He feels bad, “You understand, right? It’s not the kind of decision you just make on the spur of the moment.” Then, remembering his first marriage, “I mean, you don’t make the same mistake twice. Not that my first marriage was a mistake. It was awesome. But it was a spur of the moment decision and I promised myself when it ended, that next time I’d do it—I don’t wanna say better—but maybe in some different way that doesn’t end in divorce.”

“I understand,” I say. And I do.

The bottom line is that I can’t count on John to come through with this ring for me. What I have to do to save my job is make sure that Marty kicks some serious butt on his press tour. Once we’re a success, I can tell Henry everything, and let him in on the fact that he has just made a ton of money on a client he didn’t even know he had.

As it is now, my deal with Marty states that if he crosses a certain financial threshold with the project’s various elements, he will be obligated to pay me not the low-end monthly fee that I normally charge at $3000 a month, not the high-end monthly fee that I often charge at $5000 a month, not the doubled fee I discussed with Henry at $6000, but, for my hard work and belief in him, he will pay me a fee of $7000 monthly for a year, plus back pay for all the time I invested pro-bono. After the first year, we agreed to reduce his fees to normal levels, as this high monthly is only meant to cover my return on investment in him.

Since I am contracted with Henry’s firm, my plan has always been to give the firm my usual cut, and surprise Henry with it. Of course I can’t surprise him with the good news until Marty reaches our set trigger, and I have the money. But Marty is very close to reaching the predetermined financial threshold that tips off my payment, and my hope is that by the end of this short press tour, he will hit our agreed upon sales marker on his book sales alone.

Anyway, this has to work, because if it doesn’t, it’ll just look to Henry like I went behind his back, and he’s already established that he’s having trust issues with me.

Chapter 26

Marty and I plan to meet up at the airport. I check in to my flight to New York and make it all the way through security before I find him, waiting in the boarding lounge. I sit down next to him.

“No pressure, Marty, but you’d better charm the pants off these talk show hosts, because if we don’t hit your sales marker on this trip, I’m probably gonna lose my job when I get back.”

“Yeah, no pressure at all,” Marty jokes sarcastically, “I just have to be relaxed and intelligent and witty in front of famous celebrities and television cameras, or the one person in the world who chose to believe in me is going to lose everything she’s worked to achieve in life. That makes me feel very calm and serene inside.”

“Sorry,” I agree, “it’s not your fault. I just ended up majorly lying to my boss about my potential engagement status, so I could go to New York with you.”

I reach into my carry on and pull out my computer. I can feel Marty’s eyes on me. I look up to see him smiling at me, full of adoration. Why shouldn’t he adore me? I’ve basically changed his life in the past few months, free of charge.

“I’m serious,” I say, opening my computer to find my notes, “since John isn’t going to propose to me by the time we get back, the only chance I have to keep my job is to show Henry that you’re a huge success. Ready to practice?”

“Yes, sir!” he says mocking my diligence. I roll right over it. We’ve got a book to sell, and I can’t afford to have this go any less than perfectly. I read off the list of preparation questions that I’ve brainstormed.

“They’re gonna wanna know why you got into sexology.”

Marty plays along, as if I were the host, and he’s already sitting on the stage, “It started thanks to a long history of going after women who had absolutely no interest in me,” he looks at me complicitly. I guess he’s referring to Lacey. I should probably tell him that she still asks about him, and she isn’t not interested in him. Especially now that he’s starting to do well. I won’t tell him that part, of course. I am capable of learning from my mistakes, after all. In fact, I won’t tell him any of this right now, because we need to stay on track with our prep.

I play along with the pretend-time pre-enactment too, and take on a posture as if I were a talk show host.

“So, was it any woman in particular, who led you to sexology?”
“Very astute, my dear—“

I interrupt him, “Don’t say ‘my dear’ to the actual hosts.”

He laughs at me, “Yeah, of course. I was just talking to you. But if you want me to practice like it’s the real thing, I can do that, too.” Then he picks up where I cut him off, “It was my college roommate who led me to sexology. I was so in love with her. And she couldn’t have been more unavailable to me.”

“Because she was in a relationship?”

“No. She was gay. And not even in the closet about it or anything.”

I laugh. Then I apologize. But chasing a lesbian is an even stranger form of pointless wishful thinking than the one I’ve been pursuing with John.

“You knew and you still—why would you do that to yourself?” I pry.

“You can know someone is off limits, it doesn’t stop your heart from recognizing how incredible they are.” He looks at me meaningfully. Then he adds, “But I’ve found that even if she never gives me the time of day, following a great woman everywhere always leads me to something good. Like my lesbian. She signed up for a class on The Science of Attraction, so naturally so did I.”

“Do you think that maybe by signing up for that class, she was trying to send you a message?” I joke.

Marty laughs, “I’m sure of it! But on the bright side, that’s where I learned the thing that changed my whole life!”

“Was it how to find the G-spot, because most men could use a college course on that!”

“Close!” Marty laughs, “but no, it was the opposite of that.”

“Close yet opposite? Okay. I’m not against being so cryptic that the audience assumes that they don’t understand you because you’re smarter than them.”

“What I learned was that most women can’t orgasm until their twenties, and many never do at all. So you see, finding the G-spot at that age would’ve been mostly pointless.” And look at that! He wasn’t even being cryptic. He goes on, “Even the pretty ones and the slutty ones are mostly non-orgasmic in college. And that’s when it hit me that while I was still a virgin, I was one of the only orgasmic people sitting in that classroom!”

“That’s unfortunate,” I comment like a captive audience who forgot she was hosting a TV show, and not just having inappropriately loud conversations about sex in an airport lobby.

“Yeah, but that revelation led me to this deep compassion for all the women who had ever turned me down and humiliated me—even the straight ones, who could’ve said yes, but chose not to.”

“Awwww, that’s so sweet, Marty.” He genuinely blushes and lowers his head, while I put his whole career history together, “So you became a sexologist to unlock the mysteries of the female orgasm?”

“Well, that’s what hooked me, and then as I got deeper into it, I realized that sexology is really about the study of the brain functions as they relate to love, lust and attachment. It’s about biological differences between the sexes, there’s a lot to do with psychology, and stuff like that… Everyone thinks sex is this big mysterious thing, but ultimately, it’s all just science.”

And that my friends, is exactly the kind of thing this guy says that originally gave me the gut feeling that he could be a huge success!

We get to New York, go on the circuit, and I turn out to be right. Marty is a natural. He’s relaxed and funny on stage. He looks good all dressed up in a suit and stage makeup. Many of the questions are the ones I’d prepared him for on the flight over, but even when someone throws him a curve ball, he manages to stay upbeat and take it in stride.

The most flustered he gets is when one famous male host, who will remain nameless, makes a nice comment about me. What happened is that after Marty talked about how he always goes after women who have absolutely no interest in him, the host said, “Yeah, I noticed you hanging out backstage with a woman who looked well out of your league.” I’m just hoping John is watching and got to hear that! If things don’t work out with him, I’ve got half a mind to come back to New York and look up this celebrity who has a crush on me. Okay, I would never do that because the celebrity is married, but it’s flattering nonetheless.

The highlight for me though, is when one famous female host outright asks him how long a girl should wait to have sex.

“She shouldn’t! She should do it as soon as possible!” Marty jokes, getting a good laugh out of the audience, before offering up his true opinion, “As a guy, it’s my biological obligation to say that. But as a sexologist, I’d say, she should do it whenever she feels ready.”

“But what if she wants to make sure it turns into more than a one night stand?” she asks him, as a follow up.

“Well you don’t have any control over him. But if a guy is already into you, sex won’t change his mind either way.” Then, as a joke he adds, “Unless, of course, it’s really bad sex.”

And that’s when it hits me. I’m not good in bed!

Chapter 27

On the plane ride home, Marty crumbles into the seat next to me with a sigh, “What a whirlwind, huh? I feel like I haven’t been able to relax since I landed in New York.”

“Well it is the city that never sleeps,” I banter, “but you seemed pretty relaxed with everyone.”

“I had to. I had to come through for you, after everything you’ve done for me. Have I said thank you?” He has, about 150 times after each interview, and about 360 times before each interview, and about 47 extra times, as we’d part company each night to go to our respective hotel rooms, and about 13 times when we’d get back together for breakfast in the morning, just in case I hadn’t heard him.

“You know, I’m not sure you have,” I joke, “but thank you for remembering to say it now.”

“You can’t say thank you for me saying thank you, that cancels my thank you out! Now I have to say it again, ‘Thank you!’ and also, is there anything I can do to repay you? Seriously, anything.”

“Well, the first thing you can do to repay me is repay me. We hit our payment trigger this morning. You are a rich man.”

“Oh, thank God! I mean, not that I’m rich, but that I’m finally contractually obligated to give you money for all of this. I can’t wait! I’m writing you a check right now—or actually, that’s too slow. I’m transferring the money directly to your bank or Paypal. Where do you want it?”

He’d been begging to pay me early for a while, but I didn’t feel right going outside the confines of the contract because that’s a bad precedent to set, and then I’d feel funny about anything that didn’t work out from there on in.