The Good Girl

To the author of the list that inspired the book,

Sasha Brown-Worsham.

Thank you for making my mind run wild!

The Sexual Bucket List:

50 Things you should do sexually before you die

by Sasha Brown-Washam

http://thestir.cafemom.com/love_sex/106248/the_sexual_bucket_list_50?source=sexpage

1. Kiss a girl
   
2. Have anal
   
3. Have a threesome
   
4. Engage in group sex
   
5. Have phone sex
   
6. Masturbate
   
7. Use a vibrator
   
8. Use a sex toy on someone else
   
9. Be tied up
   
10. Tie someone up
    
11. Have sex in a public space
    
12. Be a voyeur and watch others having sex (live, porn does not count)
    
13. Sex in a car
    
14. Sex at a drive-in
    
15. Mile-high club
    
16. Sex with a stranger
    
17. One-night stand
    
18. Married sex (the best kind, in my opinion)
    
19. Sex on a boat
    
20. Sex in a body of water
    
21. Light spanking
    
22. Read erotica
    
23. Play strip poker/Monopoly/card game
    
24. Sex in the shower
    
25. Sex standing up against a wall
    
26. Sex with no kissing
    
27. Sex in the pitch black
    
28. Sex in the broad daylight
    
29. Making out with no sex long after you're no longer a virgin
    
30. Sex in a tent in the wilderness
    
31. Watch porn together
    
32. Watch porn alone
    
33. Learn to give yourself multiple orgasms
    
34. Sex on the beach
    
35. Blindfolds
    
36. Using ice sexually
    
37. Sexual role play
    
38. Whipped cream
    
39. La Perla lingerie sex
    
40. Frederick's of Hollywood lingerie sex
    
41. Sex with someone much older
    
42. Sex with someone younger (legal!)
    
43. Sex in a foreign country, possibly with a foreigner
    
44. A quickie in a skirt
    
45. A longie in the rain
    
46. Sex in the ocean while people swim all around you
    
47. Feather ticklers
    
48. Sex while "altered" whether by alcohol or something else
    
49. Learn to orgasm in less than five minutes from intercourse alone
    
50. Silent sex in a full house
    

One of the best parts of the internship with
Life on the Lake
was the social side of it, the constant networking, the frequent opportunities to make connections with individuals who could further a career. Of course, since these same people could also very easily end my career before it even began, this was also one of the worst parts of the job, too. This habit the magazine had of a monthly gathering to celebrate each issue had already worn thin and it was only my third. This time, it was different. I could feel it. The air was electrically charged. What had begun just over a year ago as a local version of Cosmo, had grown significantly and was now turning into a franchise. Our home office in Lake Norman was preparing to accommodate all this new growth. There had even been talk that some of us interns from UNC Charlotte would be offered full-time paying positions after graduation.

For that reason alone I had pulled myself together, finished my projects, pasted a smile on my face, and dragged myself to the 7pm gathering at City Tavern. The editor constantly complimented me for my drive, determination, and abilities so that already, I felt like an asset. Becoming a permanent staff member would be the cherry on top. Not having to job hunt in another month would be ideal. To work in what promised to be my dream job and get paid for it would mean I could tick one more item off my list. Just because I was twenty-two, there was no reason for me not to have my life planned, my future laid out neatly in my ultimate To Do List.

The clinking on the water glass interrupted my musing. “I know there have been some rumors floating around the office,” Jacqueline began with a knowing smile. The private dining room was instantly silent. She positively glowed. God knows she loved torturing all of us. “There are several new job openings for the magazine,” she purred. “It has always been our policy to try to hire and promote from within, first. We believe in loyalty.”

Shivers ran up and down my spine. This was it. She was going to make an announcement. I tried to remain calm, but her eyes met mine and I could feel my face flush. Just the other day, Jacqueline had cornered me near the water cooler to ask my intentions. It was just as awkward as it sounded. Somehow, I managed to stutter that I wanted to work for the magazine full-time, that I wanted a column. She had nodded and made a face that suggested she was considering it.

“We will need a couple more assistant editors. Graphic design has been overwhelmed lately, so we need at least one more person to help carry the workload. And…” she glanced about the room conspicuously, “we have a most coveted position opening up.”

There was a buzz as the others started to wonder about this last position. Luckily, Jacqueline didn’t make us wait for long. “We are going to be hiring someone to write a monthly advice column.”

My ears perked up. This was it. This was the position I wanted and had been working toward. The last four years of college and the high school paper before that had been in preparation for this moment. Without thinking, I tried to calmly rub my hands down my skirt, an act that both removed the wrinkles and dried my now sweating palms.

“Yes, we need a sex columnist.” She glanced around again. This time, she looked at Molina, another one of the interns. She was sex incarnate with her long legs, Victoria’s Secret model figure, and exotic Latin American looks.

My breath caught in my throat. Wait…this was
my
job. I was supposed to have a column. I was the better writer. My grammar was impeccable and my articles were flawless. Jacqueline had said so.

“All interested parties should apply and prepare to be scrutinized. These positions will be filled within the next thirty days. The jobs will begin on June 1
st
.” She smirked as she glanced about. “Let the games begin.” With that, she took a healthy swig of her wine and settled back into her seat to watch the ramifications of her speech.

For a moment, I was frozen in place. Then I watched as Molina casually made her way across the room until she was settling herself into the vacant chair on one side of Jacqueline. Suddenly, I was inspired to act and before I knew what I was going to say, I found myself in the chair on the other side of Jacqueline.

“What is it, Willow?” She asked, sounding somewhat tired even though a moment before she had been involved in an animated conversation with my nemesis.

“I...just wanted to make sure you knew that I was serious about the columnist position,” I grunted out of my overly dry mouth.
Without thinking, I reached for a water glass on the table and took several giant gulps before I remembered it wasn’t mine.
Fuck.

When I looked up to meet their eyes again, Molina had a hand in front of her face to hide her smile, but there was no denying the sparkle in her eye. I knew, in that moment, she thought she had won. It was time for me to go lick my wounds and fight another day. That’s when I stood, taking the water glass with me, and said as confidently as I could manage, “Obviously, I need a drink. Excuse me.”

Making a beeline for the bar, I never glanced back. It was hard to hold my head high, to keep my shoulders back, but luckily my mother had instilled in me the importance of doing so my whole life. Moments like this, hers was the voice I heard in my head.
Shoulders back, chest out, chin high, Willow. Remember, you are a Stone.
Yes, I am a Stone. That’s my birthright. With that silver spoon comes an insane amount of responsibility that I have been groomed for since I could walk…with my shoulders back, chest out, and chin high, of course.

Since it was still early for a Friday night, there were few bar patrons. The bartender wasn’t even behind the bar, when I finally stood front and center before it. Leaning against the stool, I struggled to create a passable façade of calm. It was even more challenging to appear confident at the moment. Finally, he returned from the kitchen area with a tray full of clean glasses. He looked at me, smiled, and my face fell. Completely defeated, a sigh escaped my lips.

“Hey, we lived in the same dorm, didn’t we?” He beamed at me.

I nodded miserably.

Smiling still, he continued.
“I remember you. Early riser, perpetually disapproving look.” He chuckled. “Still sour?”

While he spoke, I melted into the high stool.

“You look like you could use a drink,” he said seriously.
“What can I get you?”

Sighing, I spoke without thinking, “Let’s start with a glass of merlot.”

He leaned toward me seductively. “And then what?”

Shrugging, I responded, “Then surprise me.”

“Huh,” he said flatly, “you never struck me as the kind of girl who liked surprises...or anything else for that matter.”

Sitting up stiffly, I asked, “And just what does that mean?” Before he could even respond, I was defending myself under my breath. “So, I didn’t attend any of the frat parties. Maybe I never had a series of one night stands like some people.” I glared at him meaningfully. “That doesn’t mean I’m not...fun.”

His head flew back as he erupted in a full belly laugh. “Oh...actually, yes it does. You are not fun. Not even a little bit.” Shaking his head, he poured me a glass of wine and walked to the other end of the bar where a single woman in a revealing top was resting her breasts on the bar and batting her eyelashes at him.

For a while I simply sat there sipping and thinking, thinking and sipping.
Periodically, he would come by and top off my glass. I would give him a nod of appreciation and then he would disappear to flirt some more. Frowning, I decided I could be fun. Sure, I didn’t have her...cleavage...but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how to have a good time.

They
seemed to be having a really good time. Before long, she was looking downright sloppy drunk. In college, I had watched him, Wyatt, as he flirted his way through all the undergrads in our dorm. How many mornings had I walked past his room on the way to the stairs only to come across some poor girl doing the walk of shame from his room. More often than not, he was still sleeping. This I knew from the quiet manner in which the chicks tiptoed out the door. It was never a love connection. I deciphered that from the way they could barely meet my eyes while making their exits.

Here we were...years later, and still his game had not changed.
Still, he was seducing, using, and throwing away women. The tipsy lady at the end of the bar passed him a large bill and then he walked her to a waiting taxi. Wow. When he came back to the bar, I tried to act like I wasn’t paying attention, but even after he paid her bill and kept the change, per her slurred instructions, he still had pocketed $40. Holy hell, I was in the wrong business.

“Oh, I can hear that hamster wheel spinning,” he joked as he washed glasses in the bar sink in front of me. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I was simply thinking that if this career path doesn’t work out for me, I could do your job.”
I crossed my arms before me on the bar and leaned in. “What’s it take...a little flirting, a few smiles, laugh at some lame lines? Cake.”

Leaning toward me, he spoke once more.
“You think it’s easy, princess? Prove to me that you can do any of those things.” His jaw was set in determination.

My chin jutted out in response. “Gladly. What do you suggest?”

“How about a challenge?” He smirked.

“Just name the time and place.” My eyebrow rose to emphasize just how confident I was. I hope he took notice. My entire life I had been groomed to win. The Stone name was synonymous with success.

“Here. Now. You still in?” He stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

Nodding, I sat up and pressed my shoulders back. “What do you have in mind?”