“I swear to god, if you’re engaged or pregnant or, like, joined a cult, I’m walking,” says Mary Kate, but she’s grinning.
I bite my lip, feeling the words tremble on the tip of my tongue. I want to draw it out, savor the reveal, but I’m also burning to tell my buddies.
“You guys remember the man from last week?” I say, voice dipping low, “The one from the Faculty Club?”
Stella perks up, eyes wide. “The one you said was like a walking GQ ad, but older?”
Kayleigh leans in, elbows on table. “The one you called ‘a hot billionaire with a salt and pepper male model look?’”
“Yeah, that one,” I say, feeling my cheeks go pink.
Mary Kate puts down her phone. “You saw him again?”
I nod. “Not just saw him. I hooked up with him again. Last night. It was—” I pause for effect, wriggle my eyebrows, “—absolutely wild.”
The girls gasp. Kayleigh: “No way. Where?”
“Century College fundraiser,” I say. “I was doing work-study with Century Catering and we had a gig. I was in uniform, passing out canapés, and then boom! He was there.”
“And then?” Mary Kate chirps eagerly.
I smile.
“We locked eyes, and it was just like last time. Total fireworks. Except this time, he dragged me a private room and—” I lower my voice until it’s barely a whisper, “—took me up against the shelves.”
Stella’s hand flies to her mouth. “Shut up. Like, actual sex?”
My face flames. “Not actual-actual. Anal,” I say, voice barely audible over the Death Cab playing on the overhead speakers. “Again. Only anal. Apparently that’s his thing.”
Mary Kate snorts her coffee, coughing. “Are you serious? Twice in a row with this mystery man? Girl, you’re not even playing the same game as the rest of us.”
Kayleigh looks confused. “Plus, why anal only? What is he, some kind of religious fanatic who believes that pussy sex is for married couples?”
“Maybe?” I say, laughing. “I have no idea why, but it’s all he wanted. And he’s, like, really good at it. I mean, scary good. And fucking huge. It was….” I trail off, breathless, remembering the way he split me open, the heat and ache of it, the animal joy.
Stella, voice tiny: “You didn’t get his name this time?”
“Nope,” I say. “He never asks for mine, either. It’s like—” I wave my hands, “—pure animal instinct, zero logistics. We do it, and then he’s gone.”
Kayleigh: “So you’re telling me you’ve been railed, twice, by a mystery man who only wants to do it in the butt, and you don’t even know his name?”
I nod, giddy.
Stella giggles, then leans across the table, voice urgent: “Andie, you’re my hero. Seriously, hats off because this is so wild and I’m insanely proud of you. I mean, it’s not like we’ll be able to meet hot older guys when we’re forty and indulge in deep anal. We’ll be wizened old crones by then, likely suffering from menopause.”
“Perimenopause,” Mary Kate interjects. “Forty is too early for menopause.”
Stella shrugs. “Okay, perimenopause. But you know, girlfriend, that anal doesn’t count for the contest. You have to do the real thing for it to count.”
Mary Kate nods seriously. “Those are the rules. Also, Stella is on point: you’re still a technical virgin.”
I roll my eyes, but I know they’re right. My insides still feel like a donut left on the hood of a car in July, but in the spreadsheet of sexual accomplishment, I’m still hovering at zero. Still, I can’t help the pride in my voice when I say, “But did any of you get this close?”
They all shake their heads. “We yield to the queen,” Kayleigh says with a smile.
The server brings over my latte, and I drown the cinnamon foam in one savage gulp. The taste floods my mouth, hot and sharp, and I smirk at my friends, feeling, for a second, like a cartoon villain.
“There’s more,” I say, and the three of them tense like hunting dogs.
