And it’s not just that I came laughably quickly.
I also cried out in ecstasy like the most pathetically grateful loser, because that waseasilythe most stunningly intense orgasm I can remember having in a good long while.
“Oh, Jesus… I’m so… terribly sorry…” Mortified beyond anything, I gently withdraw and move clear to the other end of the couch. I don’t even bother taking the condom off in my rush and grab my trousers, pulling them on to havesomethingbetween me and the world.
“Don’t give it a second thought, it’s fine.” To her credit, she sounds sincere as she stretches comfortably, covering herself with the nearest throw as if we’ve just watched a film and got a bit carried away. “We can try again later, depending on your refractory period,” she adds lightly.
I rake a hand through my hair, wishing I could climb out of my own body. Here she is, this unbelievable woman who makes me laugh and think and want things I’d quietly filed away under ‘not for you, Jacob,’ and I… ruined it. After spending so long unable to maintain arousal, in the first situation where Idesperatelywant to take my time my nervous system decides that’s the perfect time to sprint for the finish line.
If my body doesn’t betray me one way, it finds another.
“I think…” I start, then swallow, forcing the words out evenly. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather call it a night.”
There’s a small pause. “OK.” No dramatics. No guilt. Just acceptance, like she did earlier with the overconfident rider. Like this was nothing more than another leaf on the tree of her life, there and then gone.
She dresses quickly and quietly, glancing at me now and then. I sit there, shirt ruined, half-dressed, feeling like something inside me has turned to dust.
“It really is OK, you know,” she says, coming over and resting a gentle hand on my shoulder.
My instinct is to flinch away, but I manage to stay still. The last thing I want is to add rudeness to the list of things I regret.
I take her hand and press a quick, awkward kiss to her knuckles, still not quite able to look up. “I’m really sorry,” I mutter. “It’s… a me problem. Not you. You’re so…”
Words fail. None of them seem big enough.
She squeezes my hand once, then lets go. “Take care, Jacob,” she says quietly.
Then she walks out of my house with the easy lightness of a summer breeze.
Or rather, as my mortified brain insists on pointing out, as quick as I was.
All I can do is sit there, dragging my hands through my hair, over and over, as frustration and shame cycle through me. Wondering, not for the first time, why I ended up with a body that either refuses to respond when I need it to, or races ahead and leaves me behind.
Chapter 5
Tippi
“Ihave a question about your brother,” I say to Sadie the next morning.
She’s on the sofa, twins attached, one at each boob, trying to sip a smoothie through a long straw like some kind of exhausted fertility goddess. “Tim?”
“No, Jacob.”
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since our date. Even a train ride to London to visit The Vagina Museum on Poyser Street didn’t scrub the image of that tall drink of water who spilled too fast.
“Jacob?” Sadie barks out a laugh as I drop into the armchair opposite. “Wouldn’t have thought he was your cup of tea.”
“Why not? He’s incredibly handsome.”
“Ew.” She pulls a face, re-latching Toren. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”
“Gee, I can’t imagine howthatfeels,” I say dryly.
We lock eyes and then both crack up.
“Touché.” She tilts her head. “What d’you wanna know?”
I should probably just rip the Band-Aid off. “I went out with him Thursday night.” Her mouth falls open, so I lean forward and nudge her chin shut with my fingertip. “And… heseemed… more nervous than most.”
