Perfect Strangers

27

This is what writers call “flow,” a unicorn state of total immersion where time loses all meaning and words pour out like water from a faucet with no more effort than it takes to blink.

The muffled sound of a phone ringing is what finally makes me rise from the chair.

I pad into the living room, the parquet cool and smooth under my bare feet. Finding my handbag on the floor of the foyer, I retrieve my cell phone from it and smile when I see the number on the screen.

“Girlfriend,” I say after answering, “I hope you’re sitting down, because what I’m about to tell you will pull the rug right out from under your feet.”

Kelly shouts, “Oh my God! Did you do s*x with James?”

She’s always using verbs in unique ways like that: “do” s*x instead of “have” s*x. Her husband finds it irritating, but I think it’s cute.

I say coyly, “I don’t know…what’s your definition of s*x?”

“When the outie enters the innie! Duh!”

I roll my eyes, headed back to the bedroom to find something to wear. “Genitals aren’t belly buttons, you weirdo, but by that definition, no. We didn’t have sex.”

She sounds confused. “Did anything of his enter anything of yours?”

“Yup.”

A thrilled gasp, then: “Omigod, tell me quick.” She pauses. “Unless there are toes involved. I don’t want to hear anything about toe s*x. That’s just nasty.”

Crinkling my nose, I say, “Toe s*x? Is that even a thing?”

“Babe, you have no idea. Remember how I said I was gonna Google s*x stuff for you? Well, I did. And there’s a whole world out there of kinkiness I had no idea existed. Did you know some people get off by having stinging insects crawl all over them? That would just make me s**t myself, not come.”

I can’t help but start to laugh. “I told you to stay off Google, you nut!”

“And you were right. After some of the pictures I saw, I’m gonna need extensive psychotherapy.”

I grab my robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door and shrug into it, switching the phone from one ear to the other. When my stomach emits a loud rumble, I head into the kitchen to hunt for something to eat.

“I promise you there were no insects or toes involved, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sitting now, so go ahead and tell me what happened. And don’t skip any of the juicy parts. I’m living vicariously through you over here.”

I open the fridge and peer into it. “Well, for starters, he spanked my p***y until I came so hard I cried.”

I hear a loud thud and wonder if Kelly fell out of her chair.

She shouts, “Are you kidding me? Are you f*****g kidding me right now?”

“Hand to God, girlfriend.”

“You went straight from not liking any positions other than the missionary to getting your coochie spanked? And calling your coochie your p***y? What the hell has this man done to you? One date and suddenly you’re Rebecca De Mornay in Risky Business?”

I say drily, “Enough with the pearl clutching, grandma. May I point out, you just used the word ‘f**k’ not even ten seconds ago? So I’m not the only potty mouth in this conversation. And you’re seriously dating yourself with that movie reference.”

She says prissily, “Well, excuse me for not knowing any more recent movies about hookers.”

I grab a can of soda, pop the top, and guzzle half of it in one go. “I can’t even be Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman? Or what was that other movie, the one with Nicholas Cage where he’s an alcoholic and that pretty blonde hooker falls in love with him?”

“Leaving Las Vegas!” Kelly hollers. “And why the hell are we talking about hookers?”

“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.” I chug the rest of the can of soda, stifling a burp.

Some muttering and annoyed grumbling comes over the line, then Kelly says, “If you don’t tell me in extreme detail what happened last night from start to finish, I’m firing you as my best friend.”

She sounds serious, so after a short pause to gather my thoughts, I tell her everything.

When I’m done, thundering silence echoes over the phone.

“Hello?”

“Still here,” Kelly says faintly.

“So? What do you think?”

“What do I think? What do I think? I think I would shove my own mother down a flight of stairs to spend ten minutes alone in a room with this stud of yours. Jiminy Cricket, Olivia. Talk about intense.”

I close the fridge door and wander out of the kitchen into the living room, distracted from my hunger by memories of last night. Memories of James’s beautiful face and all the emotion shining in his eyes. “I know,” I say softly. “It’s pretty surreal.”

“Surreal is right!” She cackles, sounding on the verge of hysteria. “He never took off his pants! How is that even possible for a man? He’s got a naked woman orgasming in his lap and he keeps his pants on? Talk about superhuman willpower! Mike rips off all his clothes and jumps me if I even breathe in his direction.”

I muse over that for a moment. “Maybe his p***s is pierced and he knows I’d faint if I saw that, so he’s trying to ease me into it one orgasm at a time.”

Kelly snorts. “Well, you ride that fat pierced anaconda, sister, and make sure you take good notes when you do, because from now on, I’m gonna be living for my daily episodes of Olivia Gets Her Coochie Spanked, starring Handsome James the Dirty Talking Artist.”