“Slow down. I haven’t asked him yet. He might say no.”
“He won’t.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about Charlotte being the one to do the asking. It messed with my picture of things. ButI was sure if she worked up the nerve to do it, Ford would say yes. He loved her, and he’d always been the one looking for more than a casual relationship. His desire for more was what almost scared her off in the first place.
“You sound sure, honey.” Kindra reached across the white tablecloth to squeeze Charlotte’s hand. “Have you thought about how you’d like to ask him? What you want to say?”
“No, and I don’t want to think about it now. This is supposed to be Alex’s honeymoon debrief, not my road to the slaughter.”
“Such a romantic.” Meredith shook her head in mock disapproval.
“We’re finished with me,” Alex said. “Most of the past year has been about me and Erik and what everyone thought about that. I’d love for someone else to take the spotlight for a change. You and Ford are good together—great, if he can get you to consider the idea of marriage.”
“Why don’t you ask him when you’re in Costa Rica?” asked Meredith, her eyes already taking on that dreamy look she got when we talked about love. “The setting is certainly romantic enough.”
“That’s perfect. I ask him, he says no, and then we’re trapped on an island together with no escape.”
“He won’t say no.” I snagged the fresh basket of bread the server set at the center of the table. I’d do extra time on the treadmill to make up for the indulgence.
“You seem awfully sure of yourself.” Charlotte gave me her attorney stare—the one she used in court to make sure cheating spouses got everything they deserved.
It didn’t work on me, but that was just because I knew she loved me. I tipped my head in acknowledgment and munched my bread, waiting for her move on.
“What’s going on with your love life?” she asked, turning in a different direction than the one I’d hoped.
Despite all the deliciously filthy things Jake and I were doing together, I didn’t have a love life at the moment. Not beyond a few disappointing dates I had no intention of reliving. It wasn’t that I objected to sharing with my friends. They were closer to me than family. There just wasn’t anything to share—at least not anything romantic. I thought for a moment.
“How do we feel about spanking?” I’d wanted to talk to Alex about my reaction to Jake. Now was probably as good a time as any.
“I think the more important question,” said Kindra, eyeing me in a surprisingly mischievous way, “is how do you feel about spanking?”
“Well, it turns out, in my limited experience, I quite enjoy it.” There was a lot wrong with that statement. I was pretty sure “enjoy” wasn’t the word I meant, both because of the way the spanking felt and the strength of my reaction. It didn’t matter. My friends had started talking over each other, lobbying for details.
“Who, how, exactly what, and when? In detail. Now,” said Charlotte, the tone of her voice cutting through the other women’s questions.
“Remember my friends-with-benefits guy?”
“The itch scratcher.” Alex nodded.
I regretted ever calling Jake that. It didn’t fit. I didn’t know what we were, but it was more than just scratching an itch. Or maybe it wasn’t.
“We negotiate for sex.”
“Like with money?” It was the most scandalized I think I’d ever heard Meredith.
“No. More with fantasies. If I want to try something, I tell him; we work out the details, by text, and then I show up and we do it. If he wants to do something, he can ask me. If it’s good, we can do it again.” I ignored for a moment that Jake had neverasked me for a fantasy and that everything we’d done together—chocolate syrup aside—had been good. Very good.
“How often do you see each other?” Meredith swiped the basket of bread and tore off a generous hunk. Generally immune to the yeasty goodness—probably because she was surrounded by it at work—even she couldn’t resist the bread at Tujague’s.
“As often as we need to. We used to get together every couple of weeks, but lately it’s turned into more of a weekly thing.” I thought back, trying to figure out when things had changed.
“So why haven’t we met this guy?” Charlotte pinned me with her prosecutor look, and I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue or do something equally childish.
“Because it’s not that kind of thing. It’s not a relationship. It’s just sex.”
“Once a week for someone as busy as you isn’t an insignificant time commitment. Are you sure neither of you wants more?” asked Kindra.
“Absolutely sure. He’s not my type. He’s messy, or he would be if his housekeeper didn’t keep things in order for him. I’ve almost never seen him in anything other than board shorts and bare feet.” I wondered for a moment what he’d look like in a good suit. The pants and dress shirt had been a delicious change, but after what he’d said, I wasn’t sure he owned one. I still had a hard time thinking of him that way. “He’s fairly reclusive. He spends most of his time in front of computer monitors and orders out for whatever he needs.”
“Including sex,” said Alex, nodding her approval.
