Just One Night: Sex, Love & Stiletto Series (14 page)

“Yes, I’m
sure
granny panties were the problem,” Emma drawled. “It had nothing to do with the fact that she was about to hump one of her oldest friends, and that his mom almost had a heart attack.”

“Whoa whoa whoa. Let’s get a few things straight,” Riley said, setting her glass on the table. “First of all, these were
not
granny panties. We’re talking itsy-bitsy black lace. Second, his mom is fine. Liam talked to him this morning, and she’s out of the hospital and back to normal, which as far as I can figure is still mean as sin. And third, I’m not really sure that
friendship
is what Sam and I have had going on all these years. It’s more like …”

“Sexual combustion?” Julie supplied.

“Yes, that,” Riley said, jabbing her finger at Julie. “And last … when I called an emergency girls’ night, whose idea was it to serve
salad
? How am I supposed to derive any comfort out of snow peas?”

“Calm down, Gigino’s delivery is on the way. The salad was meant to tide you over, because everyone knows how you get when you’re hungry,” Emma said, fishing a carrot out of the bowl and holding it expectantly in front of Riley’s face.

Dutifully Riley leaned forward and nipped the carrot out of her friend’s fingers. “Did you get the bolognese?”

“No, we wanted to watch you sulk all night,” Grace said, helping herself to a huge bowl of the salad. “Of
course
we got your calorie-bomb meaty pasta.”

Riley reclaimed her glass off the table and settled back into the couch. It wasn’t that she
didn’t like vegetables. She just liked other stuff better. Like carbs. And fat. And stuff that didn’t taste like, well … healthy.

And a period of her life where her heart was halfway to broken was not the time to go all kale and quinoa.

“So talk us through what happened,” Julie said.

“I thought I did that on the phone.”

“No,” Julie said patiently. “What you said on the phone was, ‘Sam saw me naked and then I ate three servings of room service mac and cheese.’ ”

“And then you called
me
and told me you got cock-blocked by his
mom
, which I think we all agree is a phrase that should be banned,” Grace added.

Emma shook her head. “No, I win. She called
me
and asked how Alex Cassidy felt about Brazilian waxes, because she had recently gotten one and didn’t want all the pain to go to waste and thought he might be a viable candidate.”

Riley held up a finger. “Okay, on that last one, I didn’t mean it. I may have been more than halfway through a mediocre bottle of merlot by then. Even
I
know that the exes are off-limits.”

“So what did you tell her?” Julie asked, looking at Emma.

Emma looked a little discomfited to have the attention turned her way. “I told her to put either the phone or the bottle away before she made a drunk dial she’d come to regret.”

“No, I mean about Alex’s thoughts on lady grooming.”

Emma’s perfectly shaped eyebrows crept up. “You know, it’s been a few years since I’ve cared about Cassidy’s preferences for female pubic-hair arrangements.”

Grace winced. “When you put it that way, it sounds a bit like landscaping.”

“Hurts a hell of a lot more than landscaping,” Riley said as she began fishing the buttery croutons out of the salad bowl. “And I just want to point out that none of you were any help in any of those phone calls.”

Grace reached across the couch and patted Riley’s knee. “But we’re here now. Talk to us.”

Riley swirled her wine and stared into her glass as she contemplated exactly how much of her guts to spill. She knew they’d support her no matter what. That’s what girlfriends were for. And as much as she adored her sisters, it had always been Grace and Julie who knew exactly the
right thing to say over the years, and Emma’s level head was the perfect complement to their little group.

But telling them about her sexual inexperience was tantamount to confessing that she’d been lying to them for years.

And yet the thought of continuing the lie was almost unbearably heavy.

“So you know the fiftieth-anniversary issue?” she began slowly. “The women behind the stories and all that.”

“We do,” Julie said patiently. “Being your colleagues and all.”

“Right, right. It’s just … I don’t have a story.”

“So? We have some time before we even need to turn in a draft.”

“No, it’s worse than that. I mean I don’t have a
story
. At all. No long-term relationships, no recent relationships, no interesting relationships … and considering that our section
is
relationships, I’m a little bit at a loss.”

The three other women exchanged a glance. “Well, sweetie,” Julie said, “I really hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t have to write about any sort of deep love relationship. You could stick with what you know, which is—”

“Sex?” Riley provided.

“Yes,” Julie said with a little sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to spell it out. “And there’s no shame in that. Just write what you always write, but give it a little personal spin. I mean, don’t sell out any of the guys by name or anything, but what if you did, like, the ten best sex tips you’ve learned over the years at
Stiletto
? Like personal favorites, or whatever.”

“Or you could write about which of your stories had the worst impact on your sex life—maybe like a failed research attempt or something. You could keep it funny instead of soul-baring.”

Riley pursed her lips. “All good ideas, except …”

They were hollow.

She was all for flippant and fun, but lately it hadn’t been enough. On quiet Thursday nights when you had a sore throat,
fun
didn’t bring you hot tea and tuck you in.
Fun
didn’t pet your hair after a bad dream.

Fun
wouldn’t move Sam Compton out of his carefully constructed “friend zone.”

“Hold on a sec,” Emma said, raising a hand. “Can we do the work brainstorm later? I
want to hear the good parts. Like how it came to be that yummy Sam Compton came to see you naked?”

“
Almost
naked.”

“But one doesn’t wear tiny black panties unless they’re meant to be seen.”

“Not entirely true,” Riley said, her hand going to her jeans. “See, I always—”

Grace grabbed her wrist. “I’m sure whatever’s covering your nether regions right now is stunning, but stay on topic. How was it that it was
Sam
who came to see your black panties?”

Riley took a big gulp of wine. “I propositioned him.”

She waited for the gasps of surprise and the
ohmygodyoudidn’t
s, but none were forthcoming. Riley glanced at her friends. “Nobody looks surprised.”

“Oh, we’re surprised. Surprised that it took this long.”

Riley slumped back against the couch. “It was that obvious?”

“The pure, undiluted sex vibes that always buzz around you two? Um, yeah,” Grace said. “And the longing?” she added more quietly. “We’ve seen that too.”

Riley glanced down quickly at her wineglass so her friends couldn’t see the dismay in her eyes.
Were
her feelings for Sam
that
noticeable?

And if so, was his lack of feelings for her obvious too?

“The only thing I don’t get is why now?” Julie asked, tapping a finger against her lip. “Why was this article the one that finally had you getting the courage to go after your guy?”

“Easy there, tiger,” Riley said, shooting a finger at Julie. “He’s not my guy.” Yet.

“Okay, still, why now? Why not put one of the more meaningless flings up for study in your article and figure this thing out with Sam off the record.”

“Says the woman who publicly announced to the world that she was in love with a boy.”

“You’re in love with Sam?” Emma asked.

Riley’s heart flipped.

“No! That’s not what I meant. It’s just … there isn’t any other guy I can write about.”

“Oh boy, she’s got it bad,” Grace said, topping off their wineglasses.

Riley took a deep breath. “No, I mean there literally
isn’t any other guy
. At all. Not now, not before …”

All three women froze.

“Explain,” Emma said slowly.

Riley swallowed. “Is the food here yet? Hasn’t it been a while?”

“It’s Saturday night. Be patient. Also, don’t change the subject. What do you mean there aren’t any other guys. What about previous partners?”

Riley stared at her wine.

Here we go
.

“There
are
previous partners,” Julie said slowly.

“Sure!” Riley said brightly. “Only, you know … not plural.”

That last part came out in a mutter, but she knew from the shocked expressions on her friends’ faces that they’d heard her.

“You’ve only been with one guy?” Grace asked softly.

Riley’s head dipped forward until her chin rested on her chest.
Guilty
.

“Oh my God, Riley … Was it bad? Did he—”

“It wasn’t bad. I mean it was, but it wasn’t forced. It was just awkward and a little painful, and totally unsexy.”

“When?”

“College.”

“You haven’t had sex since college?” Julie exploded.

Grace sent her a warning look. “Which is
fine
, isn’t it, girls?”

“Definitely,” Emma said.

“Sure,” Julie said. “It’s just
wow
. Who was he?”

Riley shrugged. “Dan Bacher. We’d been dating for several months and were sort of serious, although it’s not like I was dropping hints on engagement rings or anything. We broke up shortly after the incident.”

Julie put a hand over her mouth to cover a horrified laugh. “That’s what you call it? The incident?”

Riley was given a brief reprieve by the doorbell, and the process of getting the food containers situated and plates passed around gave her a chance to catch her breath. And collect her thoughts.

But by the time they’d all resumed their spots around the coffee table, she was ready to tell them all of it. The whole sad, awkward story.

“Jake’s not, like, hiding in the bedroom, is he?” she asked Grace. “I don’t think I can
quite handle a male audience for this.”

“Nope, he’s off at guys’ night. Whatever you want to tell us will end with the three of us.”

“And all of the
Stiletto
readers,” Emma said, deadpan.

Riley slowly chewed her pasta before speaking. “So you’re probably wondering why I never tried it again. After Dan, I mean.”

“A little,” Julie said, understating. “I mean it’s pretty common for the first time to be awkward, and hurt a little and all that. I mean … haven’t all of us written an article on that at some point?”

“It’s true,” Emma said. “My first was with a guy who was way older, and that should have made it less awkward, but he was all saggy in all the wrong spots—”

“Eew,” Grace said, cutting her off. “But yeah, mine was bad too. It was with Greg—”

“That asshat,” Riley muttered, as she did whenever the name of Grace’s ex came up.

“—and it was totally a fumbling, can’t-get-the-condom-wrapper-open, not-enough-lubrication disaster.”

“Yeah, that’s about how my situation went,” Riley confirmed.

“You were amateurs. Give yourself a break.”

“I can give my twenty-year-old self a break,” Riley said. “But my twenty-eight-year-old self? No excuse.”

“Well, you must have your reasons for waiting,” Grace said gently.

“Not any good reasons!” Riley said, her voice coming out in a screech. She took a bite of pasta to calm herself.

“The real problem is why I slept with Dan in the first place. See, Christmas break of my sophomore year, Dan’s parents were off in Australia visiting his sister, who was studying abroad, so he came home with me.”

“You did it at your parents’ house? How has that not been a story topic yet?”

“Actually it has,” Riley said, thinking back to a short piece she’d done a couple of years earlier. “I just didn’t base it on personal experience. Hell, as you guys now know,
none
of it’s based on my sexual experiences … But anyway, no, we didn’t do it until we got back to campus after break.”

“Okay …,” Grace said, winding her fork into a careful twirl of noodles. “So what was
the catalyst? You don’t exactly sound smitten with this poor guy.”

“Oh, I was smitten all right,” Riley muttered. “Just not with Dan.”

Julie put the pieces together almost immediately. “
Sam
was there. At your parents’ house at Christmas.”

“Sam was there,” she said, meeting her friends’ eyes. “So was his new wife.”

“Sam was
married
?” Grace said. “How did I not know that?”

“Because it was over in a hot minute. Just a spontaneous oopsie that ended in a dramafree divorce. But that Christmas break when I went home with my first serious boyfriend, half convinced that it would force Sam to see me as a grown-up, he was very much married.”

“Oh, Ri,” Julie said, setting her plate aside. “
That’s
why you slept with Dan?”

“Well, I didn’t let myself acknowledge the reason at the time. I told myself that he was sweet and kind, and fairly good-looking, and why not, you know? But when I’m really honest with myself …”

“It always comes back to Sam,” Emma finished for her.

“Exactly.”

She went on to explain how she’d half stalked him at the distillery, then played the jealousy card with Brent to spur him into action. She told them about the kiss at her parents’ and the kiss at the bar …

She told them everything up until the door of the hotel room, which is when she felt herself blush and realized that talking about sex in general terms is a hell of a lot easier than talking about sex in personal terms.

And she definitely didn’t tell them about Sam’s outburst about not being good for anyone. It was simply too
untrue
to voice to anyone. Even her best friends.

“He must have balls of steel if he walked out,” Emma said. “It’s obvious to everyone on the eastern seaboard that he wants you as much as you want him.”

“Obviously not,” Riley said as she rummaged through the delivery bag in search of tiramisu. “And I don’t blame him for not wanting to see things through that night. If I’d found out my mom was in the hospital, I’d be a wreck. But I guess I thought—hoped—that he might have stayed. You know, just to cuddle. Or whatever.”