Twenty-Six
Foster
* * *
The nurse glances at the magazine in my hand. “Dr. Amato is almost done, but we’re going to get you guys into a room, so you’re all set when she gets here.”
“Perfect.” Callie hands me her purse as she steps on the scale in the hallway.
My mind is swimming. I’d really like to get Callie alone right now. Actually, I want to seduce her just so I can prove to her that I can give a woman an orgasm. She’s the anomaly, not the norm when it comes to women having orgasms with me. Or maybe she’s confusing me with someone else. She had an orgasm. I’m positive.
The nurse brings us into an exam room, and she and Callie talk about how nice the weather is outside and how nothing beats spring in Chicago, except for maybe Christmas. I grunt along with the conversation, and Callie keeps shooting me looks like get your shit together.
Finally, the nurse leaves us with one of those damn paper sheet things for Callie to put on.
“Time to turn around.” Callie hops off the table.
I do as she says. “You’re joking, right? Trying to get into my head or some shit?”
She huffs. “Are we still on the article thing?”
I start to turn around but then remember she’s partially naked. “Yes, we’re still on the whole ‘you didn’t orgasm when we fucked’ thing.”
“That sounds crude. You know, because we have the baby coming.”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Callie, we had sex in a nightclub bathroom. We fucked.”
“I’m just saying, I don’t want our kid to know that.”
“I’m not going to tell…” I shake my head. “Did you really not?” I sound like a desperate man with the begging note in my voice.
“Oh, you sound upset. You can turn around now.”
I do, and all the thoughts leave my head at seeing that damn paper sheet over her lap—and instead of having placed her clothes on the chair next to me, she holds them out for me.
“Put these on the chair for me, please?”
I take them and place them on the chair. “Tell me.”
Her body wiggles around as if she’s turning to jelly. “I don’t want to get into it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” I bite out.
“It’s not a big deal. You’re not the only man I didn’t finish with. There have been plenty… I mean, not plenty of guys. That’s an exagger?—”
“I don’t care how many people you’ve slept with, Callie. What I do care about is that I gave you a fucking orgasm.”
Her head rears back. “Fine. No.” She’s so matter-of-fact. As if it’s not a big deal.
“Fuck.” I pull at the back of my neck with my hand, cringing.
It’s like I used her to get off. Is that what she thought this entire time? I got off, and she didn’t, and if that doesn’t mean I’m a selfish bastard, I don’t know what does. It makes me no better than my dad…
“In all fairness, we were rushed.”
Most times I’ve had sex with a woman, it’s been rushed. I’m not the kind of guy who takes his time… oh shit. I grab the magazine to keep reading, and sure enough, there’s another statistic that stabs me right in the fucking dick.
81% of women orgasm when they masturbate.
