“Are you totally capable of having no feelings?”
“I think I’ve proven over the last few months I’m capable of having sex with no feelings.”
Savannah clicks her tongue. “What’s the most times you’ve slept with the same person since your divorce?”
“There was the Scottish guy, Arran. That was three times,” I say, feeling really proud of myself, because I had absolutely no feelings toward him, honestly I couldn’t understand half of what he said. I was, however, really interested in being with a man who was uncircumcised, and quite enjoyed it.
“How many times have you been with each of them?” she asks, instead of high-fiving and agreeing with me that I can have sex with no strings attached.
“Well, does the other night count as once?” I ask.
Savannah’s mouth drops. “How many times in one night was it?”
I bite my lip, trying to count in my head, and then there’s the distinction between oral and penetration.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll count it as one night. That would make three times with Gavin and twice with Ben.”
“So, tonight will be night four with the hot bartender?” she asks, like number four is some magical fucking number and suddenly my heart will start pulsating between my legs.
“They don’t want anything serious either.”
She hums and points at my dress. “You should wear that one tonight,” she says, changing the subject, and I’m grateful.
“Really? It’s not too slutty?”
“Kate, you’re going to the club to meet your booty calls. We’re not going for subtle here. Plus, you’re smoking fucking hot. Flaunt it.”
This dress will also require that I go braless. It’s a glittery, purplish-brown. It hugs my breasts and waist and flares out slightly at my thigh, showing off a hell of a lot of leg. I’m pretty sure I bought this one drunken sad night when I realized I was closer to thirty-five instead of twenty-five.
“You’re triple sure you don’t want to come tonight?”
“Don’t tempt me, but I actually like the guy I’m going out with tonight.”
I pause as I grab the earrings and necklace I want to wear tonight. “You like him?” Savannah may be the biggest man-eater I know. She sees them as fun little distractions, and maybe I’ve been basing how I’ve handled my divorce around her lifestyle. Suddenly, now, she likes someone?
“He’s smart, generous, and oh so fucking talented,” she says dreamily.
“Talented?”
“Oh yes, talented,” she says, holding her fingers in a v and sticking out her tongue. “And maybe he’s also an amazing photographer and maybe I have some sort of crush on his brain, too. I’m sure it won’t last,” she says.
I look at her curiously, but don’t harp on it.
If my role model of sex with no strings attached is falling for someone, what the fuck does this mean for me?
I’m holdingmy clutch under my armpit as I wait for my driver to arrive, he’s only a few minutes away, as my neighbor, Pat, waves me down.
“Katherine, dear,” she says as I mumble a whispered fuck under my breath. “Well, my goodness, where are you headed off to this evening?”
“It’s a club opening for my friend,” I say sweetly.
“Oh, was it one of the gentlemen who stayed the night the other night? You know, I’ve got to get my prescription checked. They sure looked a lot alike from over here. I noticed they drove together as well, and didn’t leave until morning.”
You have to love old people who have nothing better to do than stalk the neighborhood.
“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” I ask, redirecting the conversation.
“Well.” She clears her throat, possibly scandalized over the fact I had two men stay the night the other day. “Yes. I’ve noticed this SUV in the neighborhood almost every day, and I was wondering if you knew who it was. It’s black, and oh, I don’t know the car labels well, but I think it has a K in the logo.”
