‘Yeah, I mean, the more transparency about some stuff the better,’ he says, his brows pulled together. ‘I don’t think I could ever talk about that part of my life online though. Do people you know really do that? Like, go into detail?’
I try not to choke to death on my drink at the very brief mention of his sex life. With another gulp, I realise that my limbs are considerably lighter. Fuzzier. The alcohol in my system seems to be taking effect, making my cheeks feel warmer and my lips less restrained.
Meanwhile, an unsettling sensation has started inkling its way through my nervous system, humming with excitement. Something about the way his hand, adorned with one silver ring on his middle finger, skims over his hard jaw is having a very strange effect on my hormones – reminding me to actually try out the vibrator that has been sitting in its packaging in my dresser for the last month. I drag my eyes away from him. An orgasm is all I need.
Maybe two.
‘Not necessarily friends of mine, but some people do. And others come from more of an educational standpoint. Debunking myths with research and trying out different things with their partners or just themselves. It’s all good stuff to know.’
He makes a polite noise of interest. ‘Anything I should know?’ he asks over the top of his glass as he takes a sip.
‘I’m sure you already know it all,’ I say, rolling my eyes.
‘Come on. Does the G-spot exist?’ he asks, wearing the tiniest smile that gives me the impression he already knows the answer.
I give him a dull look. ‘You know it exists.’
He just raises his brows slightly, waiting for me to elaborate. I’m tempted to stare back in silence, but if the guy wants me to talk about the G-spot then I suppose I will.
‘For some people, anyway,’ I say, avoiding his eyes. ‘I mean, if you can find it. You know, with persistence. And honesty. Which I guess is why a lot of people fake it because it’s just… I don’t know, easier.’
‘Things are getting a little better in that area nowadays though,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Right?’
‘I suppose.’ I clear my throat. ‘It looks like conversation around – you know –thatspecifically is more open and honest than it’s ever been, which helps. But still, faking orgasms… it’s a thing,’ I point out.
He hums in agreement.
There’s a pause. His sharp gaze cuts to me.
‘Have you ever faked one?’ he asks, his face a mask.
‘No comment.’
‘That means yes.’
‘Shut up.’ I reach for my glass again.
‘Wow,’ he says, his mouth turning up in one corner. ‘Looks like somebody needs to give Likeable Greg some tutoring in female pleasure.’
Why are we evendiscussingfemale pleasure?? What is in the air in this place?
I snort. ‘Among other things. He wouldneversign up for lessons. And you know what, that’s the thing,’ I say passionately, waving a finger in the air. ‘The worst culprits are the ones who think they know everything when in reality they just grew up watching hours of porn and then deem themselves “experts”. You should have seen how confident he was about his “skill”. Hideous to witness.’
He winces. ‘I can imagine.’
‘And I hate to break it to you,’ I continue. ‘But women aregoodat faking orgasms. You’d likely never spot it. It might even have happened to you, champ.’
He gently purses his lips, his eyes on me. ‘I don’t know.’
I stare right back. ‘Yeah, exactly, you don’t.’
The quiet smirk is back as he toys with the edge of his glass. ‘Alright, maybe you’re right,’ he says, his lips twitching.
‘There we go,’ I say with a grin, patting his arm consolingly. ‘Acceptance is good.’
He huffs with laughter, nearly spluttering out his drink. ‘Yeah, thanks a lot, princess.’
‘We can’t all be sex gods, after all,’ I say wisely.
