“As I suspected,” he says as he slides it back to me, his face marred in disappointment.
I take a sip, and it’s delicious to me. “What?”
“That’s terrible watered-down version. I’ll make you the real thing once we get back to my house.”
“That’s where we’re going after this?”
The Jason I know smiles back at me with unbridled intent. “Yep. I have a football game the day after tomorrow and according to the cycle schedule you sent me, It’s a wrap between the 27thuntil after New Year’s Eve, right?”
“For a week, right.”
Silence lingers for a moment as if he’s reviewing and tallying the answers for all the questions he’s already asked.
“Children?”
“Hmm?”
That’s not anything I’ve ever expected Jason to ask me.
“Do you want children one day?” he repeats.
“Yes. Marriage and children are both pretty high on my to-do list.”
“Is that why you’re doing this?”
“My orgasm journey? Yes. I didn’t want to marry a man under false pretenses. And, since having a happy, loving family is important to me, I needed to find out if sex can be enjoyable. Now, that I know it can be fantastic, I can start looking to settle down…”
I pause to lean over and rub Jason’s back when he chokes on his beer and starts to cough.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he croaks as he wipes a tear from his eye. “That went down the wrong way.”
“Jason, why are we hanging out right now? Isn’t this like the opposite of what you want to do with women you fuck?”
Jason tenses then releases his shoulder as his face falls back into a seductive smirk.
“We’ve seen each other far more than any woman I’ve fucked. I feel we’re some level of friends. Do you not want to hang out?”
I consider his question and answer. I don’t know if I just want to hang out with him. I’m already feeling low-level attachment, and there’s still so much sex to be had. Logically, only seeing each other for sex, would be the sane thing to do. Dinners and conversations encourage bonding, and I cannot afford to bond with someone as sexy, commitment-phobic, and talented in bed as Jason. He rubs his beard while waiting for my response. I make the mistake of looking him in his beautiful eyes and all rational thought jumps ship as if my brain is infected with the bubonic plague.
“I like talking to you,” I spew instead.
What’s wrong with me?
Jason’s smile broadens, and his near-perfect teeth come out of hiding.
That! That’s what’s wrong with me.
My internal self wants to choke me, but why does he have to be so damn fine?
“Want to know what I plan to do to yo—“
He can’t complete his statement because a dazzling red-head appears out of nowhere.
“Jason? I thought that was you! She slides her half-naked body into his lap and kisses him on the cheek. How about we get out of here? I can do that thing with my tongue you liked so much last time.”
Everything in me warms. Irrational anger clouds my judgment and logic. For the first time in my life, I feel capable of choking a hoe. Fists clenched, I move to slide out of my side of the booth, but Jason reacts before I do.
