by Swan, T L
“One hundred percent. Or maybe I won’t please her.” I shrug. “I have no idea how to please a woman. I could be a huge disappointment to her.”
“This is true. You could.”
I run my hands through my hair in despair. The thought sickens me. “I hate this,” I whisper angrily. “I hate feeling like this.”
“Yes, let’s talk about that. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m about to explode. I’ve never wanted anyone that I can’t have before.”
“And being bisexual is confusing?”
I screw up my face in disgust. “I’m not bisexual.”
“What do you think a bisexual person is, Nathan?”
“Somebody who has sex with anything.”
“That’s not true. A bisexual person is someone who is aroused by members of both sex.”
“I’m not bisexual.”
“Have you considered the possibility of being pansexual?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A pansexual person doesn’t see a body when they are attracted to someone. It’s the personality and heart they desire, regardless of their sex.”
I shrug as I contemplate that theory, that could be it. “Okay.”
He pauses as if getting the wording right in his head. “Tell me… what’s the worst possible scenario that could happen with Eliza?”
“That we have sex, and one of us likes it and the other one doesn’t.”
“You’re afraid that you aren’t going to like it?”
I nod. “Or that I won’t know what to do with her body and therefore be a disappointment.”
“Nathan, have you ever thought about the possibility of having sex with a female other than Eliza to see if you do like it?” My eyes search his. “Perhaps you could explore this side of your sexuality away from your relationship with Eliza.”
I drop my head. Why haven’t I thought of this before? “Why? Why am I feeling like this now, after all this time?”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Many people reach a deeper level of themselves around your age. They’re searching for their truth. An awakening, if you will.”
“You think being straight is my truth?” I whisper, horrified.
“I think that perhaps you are curious, which is completely normal.” He pauses. “And I think that you are going to have sex with a woman at some stage in your life—curiosity like this doesn’t just disappear. Now, whether that is with your Eliza or a stranger will be up to you.”
I listen intently.
“You need to calculate the risk, Nathan, and only you can do that. Do you want to explore your sexuality without the chance of hurting Eliza? Or do you want to risk it? The choice is yours.”
I think for a moment.
“Is there another woman who interests you? One where the gamble isn’t so high?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “There are a lot of options, I guess. I don’t have a problem getting female attention. Women throw themselves at me all the time.”
“Anyone in particular that takes your interest?’
I think for a moment. “There is… one woman.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Stephanie. We go to the gym together. We have coffee sometimes.”
“And you’re attracted to her?”
“I wouldn’t say attracted.” I scowl. “It’s not like my attraction to Eliza. She is gorgeous, though.”
“But you feel something there? Is she attracted to you?”
“Yes, she wants me. She makes her intentions clear quite often.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Perhaps you should investigate this further. Calculate the risks with each woman.”
“There’s no contest. I’m not risking Eliza… under any circumstance.”
“But you are curious about the female body and how it would work with yours?”
My brow furrows as I contemplate his question. “Yes. I am.”
“Can you imagine yourself naked with Stephanie like you do with Eliza?”
“No,” I answer without hesitation.
“Do you think that’s something that you want to investigate?”
I twist my lips as I think. “Perhaps.”
“Can I make a personal suggestion, Nathan? Off the record.”
“Of course.”
“If it were me, and I was searching for answers, I would perhaps explore the possibility of having casual sex with another female before I made any decision that may risk a lifelong friendship. This is your sexual awakening, nobody else’s. Don’t tie your decision to one person. This isn’t about Eliza; this is about you. You would be doing yourself a disservice to rush into anything. And may I add, you haven’t been sexually active with anyone for a long time.”
“Meaning?”
“Perhaps your body is giving you distorted signals. You love Eliza, so it’s presenting as arousal but perhaps your body is just craving physical touch again.”
“That makes sense,” I nod as I contemplate his advice. “Thank you.”
“What are you going to do?”
I sit up with renewed purpose. “I don’t know, but you’re right about one thing: I do need to know if I’m sexually compatible with a woman.” I hold my hand out to shake his. “Thank you.” I give him a lopsided smile. “You’ve actually helped me today.”
“I didn’t help you at the last visit?”
“No.” I smirk. “You pissed me off.”
He chuckles and dips his head playfully. “Then my mission was accomplished.”
* * *
I bounce the tennis ball against the wall and it falls back into my hands.
I do it again.
And again.
I’m lying on my bed with my feet on the pillows. For two hours, I’ve been bouncing this ball while staring at the wall.
My mind isn’t here, though. It’s with my Eliza, across town. I keep seeing her face when I told her I needed space.
It hurt her.
What a joke! I don’t want space. I want just the opposite. I want to be curled up in her bed, with her head on my chest and her heart beating against mine.
My heart hurts not being with her tonight.
But I have to do this. I wasn’t lying.
I do need space.
I have to get my head around this and navigate my next move. Elliot’s advice keeps going around and around in my head on repeat. Was he right?
Can I imagine myself touching another woman like I want to touch Eliza?
I scroll through my phone until I get to the name Stephanie. My thumb hovers over her name.
What would I even say to her?
Hi, I don’t really want anything to do with you but you’re smoking hot and I know you could turn me on and get the job done. Do you mind if I use your body to find out if I like sex with a woman?
I close my eyes in disgust and throw my phone onto the floor.
Fuck this.
I stare at the wall for a while longer. I wonder what my girl is doing now. This is our second night apart in two years.
I blow out a deep breath and throw the tennis ball at the wall. It bounces and flies back into my hands.
I do it again.
It’s going to be a long night.
8
Eliza
It’s just gone 5:00 p.m., and I pack up my desk. My phone beeps with a text.
It’s from Samuel.
Hope you’re feeling better
God, I’m such a bitch.
I’ve been so upset about Nathan and my fight on Tuesday that I didn’t have the energy to go out with Samuel. I lied and told him I was sick. Guilt fills me.
I’m a bad person.
I text back.
You’re so thoughtful.
Thank you, I am. I’ll call you later.
I put my phone into my bag. I’m supposed to be going to Vermont for the weekend for Nathan’s father’s birthday tomorrow night, and I h
aven’t even heard from him.
I shake my head in disgust. What is going on? Maybe I should just call him.
He’s obviously having some kind of meltdown.
No, be strong. He said he needed space. Give it to him.
I hear a knock at the door, and I look up to see Henry there. “Eliza.”
“Oh, hi, Henry.” I smile.
“I just wanted to say how happy I am that you joined us. The girls all love you and are telling me how lovely you are. It’s all working out wonderfully.”
“Really? Thank you.”
Turns out I was wrong about Henry. He’s not sleazy, he’s just weirdly honest, and he’s like that with everyone he speaks to. So far, this week he has told our receptionist that he dislikes her perfume, and then another that her skirt is too short. The girls were having a laugh in the lunchroom about when they first met him and how wrong their first impressions of him were. I didn’t tell them what he said to me, of course, but hearing their stories most definitely put me at ease with him.
“You heading off?” I ask.
“Yes. Going to the gym before I need to give myself liposuction.”
I giggle. “Okay, have fun.”
He smiles, and with a wave, he takes off down the hallway, and I continue packing up my desk. Everything is falling into place except with Nathan. That feels like it’s falling apart.
At least I’m going out to dinner with the girls tonight. I would love to talk to them about it and get their thoughts, but I can’t. They are both friends with Nathan and me, and if I tell them that we had a moment in bed, it will become a thing. And I don’t want anyone to know, and I can’t trust them not to tell the boys…because then it will be a big thing and it will snowball out of control.
Ugh, what a mess.
I pick up my bag and make my way to the elevator. I’m eating all the food tonight.
The diet is officially over.
“So, anyway,” Jolie says as she waves her wineglass in the air. “I have a confession.”
“What?” Brooke asks.
We are at our favorite Thai restaurant.
“I may have…” She pauses as she looks between us. “I may have called Santiago today.”
“The porno guy?” Brooke frowns.
I screw up my face. “What?”
“I can’t stop fucking thinking about him.” Jolie grins. “He’s so damn hot, and did you see the way he fucks?”
Brooke’s eyes widen. “You can’t be serious!”
“I am.” Jolie sips her wine as if totally convinced. “I need it. I’ve dreamt of having sex with him every night this week. He’s had me in every position possible. I’m desperate to go to sleep at night.”
“You’re going to end up being just another pussy on his phone, being shown to other women when he picks them up to fuck them,” I warn her.
“I don’t care. In fact, I think that’s half the attraction. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You have to admit it.”
I stare at her, horrified. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“He most definitely has diseases.” Brooke huffs into her wine glass. “All of them.”
“He had a rubber on in the videos.”
Brooke and I look at each other and burst out laughing. “How close were you watching? Were you studying it?” I ask.
“Very fucking close.” She mutters dryly as she sips her wine. “He’s calling me tonight.”
“Oh God.” I wince.
“You’re going to meet him?” Brooke gasps.
“No. I’m going to get him to dirty talk me for a while. I need some phone love.”
“Don’t meet up with him yet,” I warn her. “Find out if he’s a serial killer first.”
“I don’t care.” She tuts. “It would be worth it. If he fucks like that, he can do what he wants to me.”
We all giggle.
“What a way to go.”
An hour later, I get into the elevator in my building and my phone vibrates in my handbag. I dig it out. The name Phyllis lights up the screen.
Shit. Nathan’s mother. I’m supposed to be making the fucking birthday cake. I haven’t spoken to Nathan at all. What am I going to tell her?
I steel myself to answer happily.
“Hi, Phyllis.”
“Hello, darling.”
“How are you?” I smile. I really don’t have to pretend to be nice. I adore this woman.
“I’m so looking forward to seeing you both this weekend.”
“Did you speak to Nathe?”
“No, he’s not answering his phone. He must be working.”
I roll my eyes, knowing he’s not working. He’s just not answering her. I speak to his mother more than he does.
“Yes, he must be,” I lie.
Jerk.
“Listen, darling, I was wondering… do you think I should get some extra catering in for Saturday night?”
“Why?”
“Because all these people who weren’t originally coming have all messaged me and are now coming after all.”
“Oh. Have you added to the menu since we worked everything out?”
“No, and now there are close to sixty people coming. I’m freaking out that I don’t have enough food. Do you think that would be enough?”
“I’ll have to look at our list but don’t worry, we can make extra if we need to.”
Nathan’s mother doesn’t have a daughter. I’m it.
“I don’t want you cooking all day on Saturday,” she says.
“I really don’t mind. You know I love cooking.” And besides, it will also mean less time I have to spend with him.
“Oh, darling, thank heavens I have you. Jessica offered to help but we both know what her cooking is like. I’ll leave her to drink wine with us while we cook.”
“She’s good at that.” I giggle. Jessica is Nathan’s brother’s girlfriend. She’s hilarious, and it’s true, a terrible cook who burns everything she touches. But she definitely entertains us in the kitchen. “I’ll look at the list and call you back, okay?”
“Okay, speak soon.”
I hang up and text Nathan.
What time is our flight tomorrow?
He texts back.
You don’t need to come.
My head nearly bursts with frustration.
I’m not coming to see you, you conceited jerk.
What time is the flight?
No answer. I walk up the corridor and wait… and wait…
I open the door as I stare at my phone. Text back, asshole.
I’ll pick you up at 5:00 p.m. from work.
I text back.
Don’t be late.
An answer immediately bounces back.
Don’t push me.
I narrow my eyes, and text back.
Don’t you push me!
* * *
5:00 p.m. on the dot, my phone beeps with a text.
I’m downstairs.
I exhale heavily. Just reading his name on a text infuriates me. This weekend should be interesting. No fighting, I remind myself.
I look around, have I forgotten anything?
I grab my small suitcase and jacket, and I make my way downstairs.
Nathan’s black Tesla is parked in a loading zone. He sees me approaching, gets out of the car, and he takes my bag from me.
“Hi,” he says in a clipped tone as he puts it in the trunk.
“Hi.” Without making eye contact, I get in the car and slam the door.
Moments later, he pulls out into traffic. His jaw ticks as he looks in the rearview mirror. He’s clenching his teeth, and I know he’s still pissed. This is all apparently my fault.
Well, screw him.
He’s acting like a complete baby.
So what? We got drunk and had a momentary brain snap. So what? He had an erection. I’ve felt that damn thing in my back every morning for two years, he’s kidding himself if the thinks this is something new for me. He’s acting like
he’s been violated or something. He was there and in the moment, too, but of course, he’s blaming me.
Ugh…. boils my blood just thinking about it.
I cross my arms and look out of the window. Well, if he doesn’t want to talk, neither do I.
Twenty silent minutes later, we arrive at the airport, and Nathan pulls into the long-term parking lot. He scans his card, and the boom gate rises to let us in. My eyes flick over to him.
He parks, gets out of the car and goes to the trunk. He puts my suitcase down.
“I’m surprised Samuel didn’t drive you here,” he says dryly.
I roll my eyes. “Here we go.”
“I’ll give you here we fucking go.”
I snatch my suitcase off him and march off toward the check-in lounge. I can hear his suitcase wheeling along behind me.
“Don’t walk off on me.”
“I’ll do whatever I want.” I huff.
“Don’t push me.”
“Nathan,” I warn. “Cut it out, stop acting like a baby.”
I march on, and he hurries to catch up with me. We get to the road and he grabs my hand. I don’t pull away because I know he’ll go thermonuclear. My road crossing skills aren’t worth the meltdown.
“How am I a baby?”
“Look at you!” I snap. “We got drunk, Nathan. We had a temporary brain snap. It was nothing.”
He smiles sarcastically. “I see how this is.” He drops my hand and marches off in front. I roll my eyes, fuck’s sake. What is his problem? We never fight like this for an extended time.
I follow him into the building and over to the check-in. The line is huge, and we wait in the roped-off section. I take out my phone and scroll through Instagram. My phone pings as a message comes through from Samuel.
I glance up to see that Nathan is reading over my shoulder, and I snatch my phone away. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He glares at me.
I widen my eyes. “Will you stop?”
“He’s an idiot.”
