Taking the bottle of honeysuckle-scented body wash from the shelf, I pour some into my hands and lather them together before working them over my legs, arms, my neck—washing away his kisses. Then I let my fingers gently glide between my legs. I’m still sore from his fingers working me over and over. I’m still wet, more than ready, and it is doubtful that desire is going anywhere until he’s satiated me. Tentatively, I slip one fingertip into my slick entrance. “There’s no way it’sgoing to fit. No way,” I say out loud. Water and soapy bubbles cascade down my body as I try to perform fuzzy math. His dick is too big. Shaking my head, I resolve to talk to Shirley about that, too. While one of my other friends, Malena perhaps, might have more delicate sex advice, Shirley is the only person I want knowing about my extracurricular activities. It’s my only fair chance of keeping my business off the town radar while still getting the knowledge I need.
Once I’m downstairs in the office sorting through paperwork and returning emails, the land line rings. I recognize her number right away.
“What took you so long to call me back?” I ask. “What if I was in trouble?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ease off the volume button, girl. I, ah, just got my phone back. I left it somewhere last night.”
Rolling my eyes, I wind the coiled cord around my finger. “Whose house was it last night, Shirl?”
“Caleb,” she says, sighing.
“Again? That’s the third time in one week. What’s going on between you two? I thought you weren’t interested in him in that way?”
“What way?”
“More than sex,” I reply.
She grunts. “It’s good sex, so it’s nice when I forget my phone. I can wake up and get a little action. Speaking of,” she says, her sentence trailing off. “You mentioned in the voicemail you needed some advice. The onlyreason you’d want my advice is if it was something you don’t know about. Let’s face it. You know everything. Except for one area of inexperience. Did. You. Fuck. That. Beautiful. Man?”
Cringing, I debate talking to someone else, but she is right. She knows things I don’t. Things I need to know. “No!” I exclaim, cradling the phone between my ear and neck so I can pick up my chiming cell phone. “Maybe we should talk about this in person. We had dinner with my parents last night.”
“And what happened after?” She goes straight for the jugular. It’s exhausting.
“He invited me to go to New York City with him before his mission.”
“You bitch. I hate you,” Shirley crows. “When?”
I tell her the details I’m sure of and explain how my parents now approve of him. It kind of spills out, and I know this is how rumors start, how the amazing things in one’s life turn into something awful and callous because they don’t exist in someone else’s, but I can’t help myself. Shirley eats up every single word. She asks about the Homer property, and I tell her about the plans he has finalized and the work that’s being done as we speak.
“It seems everything is perfect for you, Caroline.” She emphasizes the wordperfectbecause I told her what he said about me. For the most part she does seem happy for me, though I know what will happen next even if she is my best friend. Whatever Tahoe and I have won’t be ours anymore. It will belong to Bronze Bay.
I clear my throat. “Please don’t tell anyone, Shirl. We are taking things slow.”
Her eye roll can be heard through the phone line. “What did you have to ask me?”
Tahoe texts me again, and I thumb a button to clear the screen. “Tell me how to give a proper blow job, Shirley. Don’t leave out any details. I mean, I think I did it right because he…came, but what are the rules? Are there rules? Swallow, spit? Standing, sitting, lying down? These are the things I need you to tell me, and so help me God, Shirley, you better not make fun of me. I called you because I knew you would give it to me straight. No bullshit.”
Shirley’s laughter overshadows another small ping on my cell phone. I hit another button to try to clear the screen but it seems to have sent a message instead.
“Shirley,” I croak, reality setting in.
She pauses long enough to ask what else I want to know. “I just sent him a voice message.”
Her laughter rings out again, louder this time. “Everything I just said. Can I delete it before he opens it?” As I say it I notice the message saysReadunderneath it. “Oh my gosh! This is worse than me asking for blow job advice to begin with. Now he knows I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Honey, chances are last night he knew you didn’t know what you were doing,” she replies. “Are you ready? I’m going to give you the rundown. Get a notepad and some paper, I have a shift in an hour.”
My cheeks redden, and my stomach flips as I wait for his reply. “Ha ha. Don’tmake jokes. Just tell me,” I say. No reply comes.
I’d never admit it to Shirley, but I do jot down notes as she rambles on about the finer nuances of sucking the male cock.
I don’t want to forget.
THIRTEEN
Tahoe
I’m jittery.Not from the pot of coffee I drank this morning while tearing out cabinets either. Caroline. Her laugh, her face, a snapshot of her body is on repeat in my mind. I can’t escape the memory from last night. Her body is indeed a fucking wonderland. A candy-coated, sugar-infused, soft, tight morsel of sheer delight. I’ve never wanted anything or anybody more in my life. She accidentally sent me a voice message that I’m sure was meant for a friend. It confused me at first, because she gave good head. Then after I dissected the blow job and the things she said, I realized she may not have given many blow jobs in her past. Poor, sad, sorry ex-boyfriends of Caroline. I didn’t text her back for fear of embarrassing her, but my chest is puffed out a little more than it usually is today.
