What a strange idea. She told him so.
He spread his arms out. "I'm an analyst. It's what I do. I look at odds and chances and calculate out risk and results, especially for an uncertain future."
"You can't analyse sex!" It wasn't a numbers game.
"Sure, you can." He scooted closer to her. She leaned back but didn't flinch. "Deep down you know there's something more to this sex thing, something you know exists and you know you want. You want to believe it's true, but you fear it might not be."
Her breath caught in her throat. He'd analysed her, and this was his result. Damn him for being right.
It was all about the fear. If she didn't care about ever having good sex, she'd throw her hat into the ace ring and live her merry, oblivious life free from the question of What If.
But deep down, something was asking, "What If?" It had never asked it before. Then came Everett.
He seemed so sure of himself, almost smug. That didn't seem fair. He'd had her all figured out.
Almost.
"It's not just a curiosity about sex." She licked her lips. Here went everything. "I'm curious about sex with you."
That took him aback. Good. Something he hadn't expected and hadn't factored into his mathematics.
Ros continued. "Until I met you, I didn't have any interest in anyone, not in that way.
"Then I met you and my guts go all quivery and I don't know if I'm coming or going. I don't know if I want to avoid you or throw myself into your arms. It baffles me. I..." she looked at her empty hands as if the answer would be there. "I don't know what I'm feeling, because I haven't felt it before.
"I know what love is. I love my parents, and I love little kittens and I love a nice stiff drink after a hard day at work. I look forward to those things. I don't doubt those things. I know where I stand with those things.
"But you baffle me. I don't know you well enough to say I love you." She held up a finger. "I like you. But love takes time. I think I could love you, once I get to know you better. You present well enough so far."
He snorted. "Good to know." He popped another chip in his mouth.
She went on, afraid if she stopped, she'd leave him with the wrong impression. "But this confusion I feel. Is this lust? How do I tell?"
He didn't answer her but waited.
The awkwardness crept in. "Well?" Ros said. She'd lost her momentum. "You even listening?"
He sat up. "Yes. Really, I was." He ran a hand through his hair. "I promise I was listening."
Ros folded her arms. "Didn't feel like it."
"Sorry." He truly looked it. "I'm not very good at it. I need more practice."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who told you that? Ex-girlfriend or Hannah?"
"Hannah." He looked away. "We had a bit of an argument over this a while back. I... I interfered in something she didn't need me interfering in." He held up his hands. "In my defence, I thought she was asking me to solve a problem for her. Turns out, she only wanted a sounding board. I had no idea that when women talked their issues out loud, it's not because they want someone else to solve their problems, but only want someone to listen. Nothing more." He wilted. "I didn't realise you were asking for actual help."
Was she? Maybe she was. Otherwise, why was she talking so much?
He abandoned the last of his chips. "Let me see if I've got this right. You've got feelings for me that you've never felt for anyone before. You think it might be lust, but having never experienced lust, can't confirm."
So far, so good.
He continued. "You want to test the assumption that it might be lust and think that a round of sex will settle the confusion."
Yep, that about summed it up.
He gave her dilemma further consideration. "I understand your confusion. It might not be lust."
A leaf fell into her hair. She brushed it away. The cockies were being awfully noisy overhead. Maybe it was time they moved.
"I've felt lust before. I've never been confused over it. I mean, it's like a normal reaction."
Normal? Ros stiffened. Was he implying she wasn't normal?
He held out his hand. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I..." ...put his foot in it. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"Lust does that, doesn't it?"
This made him laugh. "They say God gave man two heads, but only enough blood to run one or the other. Maybe your confusion is a good sign." He gathered her hands once more. "If you want to try sex, we can try sex. But we'll take it slow and we'll take it easy, and don't expect that there must be full consummation." He moved away from her. "But not today."
"Why not?"
He gave her a coy little smile. "It's tradition not to have sex until after the third date."
6
It was not until Ros got home that she kicked herself for bringing up the topic of sex so soon in the relationship. Perhaps Everett was right, and she'd put too much social capital into the idea. After he'd suggested at least one more date before they breached the topic again, he'd returned to the picnic and a second sandwich and refused to let her imposed awkwardness ruin what was an otherwise lovely date.
She didn't deserve him. But oh, how she so wanted to! How could he be so at ease? Could she be the same?
He was so at ease that even their duck-faced selfies with potato chips felt normal and natural. It was so easy to laugh with him, to take pleasure in simple things.
As they packed away the remains of the picnic, Ros had to share what was weighing heavy on her heart. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have jumped the gun. I'm okay to just enjoy your company."
He gathered her into his arms. "I'm flattered. Normally, when girls hit on me, it's because they think I can sing."
That surprised Ros. "Uh, why sing?"
"Most of them have a thing about K-pop. To be honest, I can't hold a tune in a bucket." He planted a little kiss on the end of her nose. "But you, I believe you are the genuine article."
"Me?"
He nodded. "I noticed there wasn't a single candy heart in that picnic basket."
Candy hearts? She'd not given them a single thought when assembling the basket. "I don't get it. What do they have to do with it?"
"Had you been playing some game, you would have deliberately packed some in an effort to make it 'our thing'. You didn't. I like that. Thanks."
Only then did she put two and two together. That's what he'd been looking for when he'd upended the basket. Fair enough. "Bad experiences in the past?"
"You have no idea."
She laid her head on his chest. "Now I feel even stupider for bringing up sex."
He lifted her chin. "Don't be. Let us go on our third date. We can do the traditional dinner-and-a-movie. We'll not bring up your uncomfortable topic because we can discuss it at a later time. Let us simply enjoy each other's company, and the most we'll do is a goodnight kiss."
For some reason, Ros wished she could have that goodnight kiss now.
Ros came home humming, her picnic basket swinging, and her heart much lighter. She dropped the basket on the bench, next to the bowl of candy hearts she'd forgotten.
Her song stopped.
The laundry room door was open. Great. Rascal had escaped again. "Soli!" she hollered.
"In here," came the reply from the laundry room.
Ros poked her head in. There she found Soli, crouched over a cardboard box, making cooing noises.
"Where's Rascal?" Ros asked.
Soli didn't look up. "Forever home--or, that's the expectation. I took him back. Cat Haven's doing a Fee-Free Adult Adoption weekend to make room for Kitten Season. Best chance he's got."
Ros shook her head. While she was glad to see the back end of Rascal, she pitied his new owners. At least they wouldn't be out of the adoption fee when he took off. "What you bring back?" Never in the three years that Ros had lived here, had they been without a foster cat or four.
"Three-week bottlies."
Ros's stomach churned. Felt just like she did with Ev
erett. She dropped to her knees on the laundry room tile and peered inside.
Sure enough, there were five little kittens, their eyes closed in sleep, all curled up on a heating pad. "What? No mama?"
Soli shook her head. "Just finished toileting them."
One kitten stretched, yawned, displaying tiny little milk teeth, then curled up another way. Oh, so cute, but too young to be without a mama. Ros reached in and stroked the tiny head. The ears were mostly unfolded, and oh-so-soft.
Ros saw the special bottle with its teeny nipple, mostly empty of Wombaroo, up on the laundry bench. "How often they need feeding?"
"Five to six times a day at the moment."
Ros sighed. Soli couldn't remember to feed herself in a timely fashion. How was she going to handle bottlies? They'd only had one set of bottlies before, and Ros had done most of the feedings then. Also, it had been Christmas week, and she'd had time off work. Those had been older and were on the cusp of weaning.
But these, these were too young. "I can't help you when I'm at work." Or possibly staying the night with Everett. Any plans of having him over to her place were now shot.
Soli continued to coo over the kittens. "I know. I've set alarms on my phone to remind me."
Great. Why couldn't she have done that with the last set of bottlies they had?
Still, kittens were kittens, and always adorable. Ros went back to stroking their little heads. If Soli had just fed and toileted them, they'd sleep for another couple of hours. "Why bottlies?"
"Emergency," Soli explained. "They'd just come in, but there was an outbreak of ringworm in the kitten room, and with the adoption weekend happening, there simply wasn't any space or womanpower for them. So, I took them."
Fair enough. Still, they meant a complication in her life. With round-the-clock feeding, that meant Soli would be up at all hours (or Ros would be). This also meant that she couldn't sneak out for an overnight anything, should she and Everett get around to getting it on. The last thing she wanted was Soli all up in her business when she finally chose to get busy.
"It'll only be for a few weeks, a month at most, until they reach adoption weight. You know how fast kittens go." Soli never once looked up.
Too true. Kittens were too cute.
Ros did the only thing she could. She snapped a picture of their latest housemates and sent it to Everett. "Look what we've got."
There went her stomach again. Ros returned to the toilet. She debated whether she should call off her and Everett's Big Night In and spend it with her head over the loo, or if she should risk her nerves and go.
Sex.
That's what it was. They had a date for sex.
She had no idea what to expect.
Without Soli's help, or even her knowledge, Ros had assembled an 'overnight kit', with a sexy camisole, clean undies, her toothbrush, condoms and the plain lube. Ambitious, even if she had no idea if she would freeze or flee on his front porch. As long as she didn't paint it with the remains of dinner, she'd be fine.
Ros drew a deep breath and thought back to their date the week before. Dinner and a movie, and absolutely no talk about the S-word. That had been liberating, mostly, that she knew the topic wouldn't come up, or even be expected.
He'd even kissed her on the porch after. More friendly, than romantic, but that had been the promise.
After that, her nerves had been on overdrive.
They'd negotiated the details of the Big Night In over text. They'd do it at Everett's place because Tyler was off on FIFO. Soli had pretty much put herself under kitten house arrest. No way Ros would be able to get rid of her for more than an hour.
Sex couldn't take more than an hour, could it? Past experience said ten minutes or less. Any go-nowhere snogging sessions she'd endured from clumsy boys hadn't been more than a half-hour. So why had she budgeted for the whole night?
Optimistic much?
Ros had enticed Soli to let her borrow the car. While it was an easy bus ride to Everett's house, Ros wanted an out, should anything go sideways. She didn't want to risk public transportation at midnight, nor did she want the awkwardness of waiting for a rideshare. A car was her freedom. And should everything go well? There would be no Walk of Shame the next morning, even to the local bus stop.
She parked in the driveway, where he said it would be okay. Her heart thumped and she fought it as she walked to his front door. At least there was just enough daylight for her to see her way to the porch. So hard was her heart beating, she was in his kitchen, a drink in her hand, before she realised he'd invited her in. (When had she knocked?)
Ros exhaled as she stared into her LL&B. His idea to avoid alcohol before. Fair enough. It hadn't even occurred to her to pre-game. But then, drunk sex was not good sex, and she was so hoping for good sex.
Everett leaned against the benchtop. "You okay?" He sipped his drink.
A tittery laugh escaped her. "Yeah. Just... nervous."
"Don't be. I got strawberry lube."
She had to let the words bounce about her head until the humour hit her. "You got... what?"
A small smile played his lips. "You did say you liked strawberries."
Ah, the picnic. "And less messy than the real ones?"
His turn to laugh. How could he be so calm? Then again, he did have a libido, and wasn't afraid to use it.
If only he could share some of it with her. Ros sipped more of her drink. While it would have been nice to bolt the whole thing down, she didn't know how she'd go with the bounciness of sex, first on a full stomach, then a full bladder.
He asked her, "Do you want some time to relax and chill out, or you going to stay as tight as a spring?"
"Tight as a spring. Let's get this over with." Oh, duh! The moment she heard her own words, she wanted to melt into the floor. "I-- I didn't mean it like that. No, really. I want to do this." She shook her head in self-disappointment. "I'm sorry. I'm nervous."
Everett, ever so patient with her, held out his hand. "Relax. I've got a plan, and I think you're going to like it."
This did lessen the sting of her foot in her mouth.
"I even changed the sheets on the bed."
Now, what's a girl to say to that? She accepted his proffered hand, a smile on her face.
His bedroom was a minimalist arrangement, not sparse or lacking, but delicately balanced by the few ornaments he owned. His king-size bed was low, almost futon-like, and a single low chest of drawers with the contents of a man's pockets on top. His windows were framed with cotton curtains that wavered ever so slightly. Was the a/c on, or was the window open? Nothing else, but a mantlepiece left over from a hundred years ago, the fireplace long ago bricked up. A black and red doona covered the bed.
"The loo is that door," he pointed to the right. "Don't wander into the closet, or you might not come back out."
She clutched at the strap of her bag. "I'll uh, go, um, freshen up."
"Fair enough. I'm going to change into something sexy."
Ros couldn't dash into the bathroom fast enough. At least with a door between them, she could relax.
"Really," she told herself quietly in the mirror, "you want this." Really, she did. Her first two times were rather spontaneous. Maybe that's why they were so disappointing.
This was planned. Everett said he had a plan.
That thought made her even more nervous. What could he have planned? What else could there be other than kissing and fumbling and PIV and lingering, frustrated disappointment?
A cold thought occurred to her. What if he was into the kinky stuff? She looked to her bag, with its lingerie and lube and little else. Maybe she should have brought the Sydney Tower? Nah. He might not know how to use it the way she loved best.
Maybe he had toys of his own. Maybe he could show her the proper way to use them.
She gave the mirror a pep talk. "This was your idea." And to show herself she meant business, she changed from her street clothes into the camisole that reached mid-thigh. It came with a mat
ching set of panties, but for some reason, these felt like they didn't belong.
Ros chose to go commando. After all, she hadn't planned on remaining in panties the whole night. Might as well dismiss one needless step.
By the time she'd gathered enough courage to leave the bathroom, she returned to a room much changed from the one she'd left. He'd turned off the overhead light. From who knew where, he'd brought out several round lamps that glowed softly in multiple colours. A single white one gave a general illumination while the others added a nice aura of shifting colours. And was that soft music in the background? She could barely hear it, but now that she listened, yes, there was music. Jazz.
Everett stood at a small bedside table, his back to her. He turned when she re-entered the room. "You look sexy."
Ros couldn't say a thing. Everett wore a silky kimono-like robe of bold floral patterns. He could not have looked any more Asian or any hotter. He'd belted it at his waist, leaving the top open to his bare chest. And that was all.
Ros bit a knuckle. Her blood rushed, but not to her head. If anything, her eyes looked clear.
He chuckled. "I take it you approve?"
She nodded, for words had failed her. Her hands gripped about the handles of her bag, bringing her back to reality. "Oh, where should I put this?"
He gestured to the low dresser. "Unless you've got more surprises in there."
Oh, yes. She fumbled in the bag. "More lube," albeit the boring plain stuff, "and a box of condoms."
He nodded. "Well-prepared."
She lifted a shoulder. "It's not strawberry."
His laughter relaxed her.
"So," she said, now that her nerves had settled. "What did you have planned?" At least if he shared, she'd know what she was in for.
He tilted his head to the side. "I thought we'd start slow. A little bit of exploration, a little bit of foreplay. Nice and relaxed, with nowhere to go."
Or 'come', was the intrusive thought. Great. Her sense of humour was kicking in. That was a good sign, wasn't it?
Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart Page 56
