by Shelly Bell
I had nothing to be anxious about tonight.
He drove into my driveway and put his car in park.
“I had a great time with you tonight,” he said, turning toward me.
“Me, too,” I whispered, trying to sound shy and insecure.
It worked because he leaned in and kissed me. It was better than I remembered, but it brought back the memory of how good he always smelled. I think he still wore the same cologne, Obsession for Men. I couldn’t smell it and not think of Jamie.
I pulled away from him, his taste still on my lips.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Hell yes, I want to come in.”
We barely made it to my bed. We kissed on my porch, reminiscent of our teenage years, while I attempted to get my door open. Kissing frantically, our clothes peeled away as we made our way through the front door and down the hallway to my room. I hadn’t turned on any of the lights and our bodies were lit solely by the moonlight. We spent time reacquainting ourselves with each other, finding those places that brought us to the peak of ecstasy.
By the time we put on the condom and he plunged inside of me, I had been close to orgasm three times. I say close because I never actually got there. His sexual skills had improved since high school. At least now, he knew where to find the clitoris. The problem is he still didn’t know what to do with it.
I wish I could be one of those women who can say what she wants and how she wants it. Every time I hear Rhianna singing the song about how she’ll tell her man just how she likes it and that she won’t fake it, I think any man would beg for sexual instructions from her. But not from me. First of all, I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Second, it’s embarrassing. Third, I think maybe it’s just me. Maybe I just can’t relax enough to come. I always stayed quiet and unlike Rhianna, I’ll fake it. I can fake it so well even I’ll start to believe it.
Inside of me, Jamie felt nice and warm, but it didn’t feel hot and electric. Still, at least I’ve broken my sexual drought.
I could tell he was close, but he was holding back until I came. Now, I can do it two ways. I can either tell him to go ahead because I never come during sex, or I can fake it.
I run through the possible outcomes in my head. If I tell him I don’t come from intercourse, will he take it as a challenge and feel miserable when he fails? Or will he rise to the challenge, so to speak?
Unfortunately, I think he’ll fail. The longer we make love, the less turned on I feel. I liked it better when we were just kissing and petting.
In the end, I faked it. My fake orgasm rivaled that of the great Meg Ryan in one of my all-time favorite movies, When Harry Met Sally. I moan and I writhe and my head turns back and forth. I even clench my vaginal muscles to simulate contractions. I’ve never had a guy question it. They’re all so confident in their sexual prowess.
As soon as I “came,” Jamie had an orgasm. His body shuddered and he collapsed on top of me as I held him to me, massaging the muscles of his back.
“God Sara, that was so good,” he groaned.
“I agree,” I lied.
“Will they interview me for the Morning show?”
What the hell did he say?
“What do you mean? Why would they want to interview you?” I tried not to get overexcited, but I suddenly had the urge to roll him off the bed. Maybe I misunderstood his question.
“I thought you might mention us to them,” he said with a bit of uneasiness.
“Yeah, because I always go on television and broadcast who I have sex with. Is that why you asked me out tonight? So you could be famous?” I sat up, pulling on the blankets to cover my chest.
“No. I’m sorry, Sara. I really like you. I always have. My wanting you had nothing to do with your, uh, you know. Do you believe me?”
I glared at him, trying to determine if he was being honest or not. He looked back at me with big, puppy dog eyes. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Yes, I believe you.”
“Good,” he said with a smile.
He softly kissed my lips and rolled over next to me, his arm stretched out over my middle. It seemed a bit possessive and part of me relished it, while the other part wanted him to go home so I could sleep on my usual side of the bed. True to form, Jamie fell asleep before I even got up to use the bathroom.
I threw out our used condom and decided to take a quick shower. I stayed under the hot water, trying to wash away the emptiness. I assumed having sex again would propel me on my new path to making all my wishes come true. Instead, I couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion I had taken a wrong turn somewhere, only I didn’t know where or how to get back to where I needed to be.
It had been a long night and I probably had too much to drink. As I got into my pajamas, I convinced myself everything would seem clearer in the morning. After listening to Jamie’s light snoring, I fell asleep wondering if my newfound fame would help or hinder me in my search.
I felt a hand sliding under my nightgown and for a moment, I couldn’t remember to whom the hand belonged. Frankly, it felt so good, I honestly didn’t care. I arched my back into Jamie and moaned to let him know he had succeeded in waking me, as well as getting me in the mood.
“Good morning,” I breathlessly murmured as his fingers played and pinched my nipples. I felt his erection against the crease of my bottom knowing full well he probably woke every morning this way. Still, it felt good to be desired.
“Good morning, Sara,” he whispered into my ear.
I started to get excited as I decided to give Jamie another chance at sex. Three minutes and one used condom later, I was no closer to achieving orgasm and this time, he didn’t even seem to care.
He kissed my cheek saying he had morning breath, then went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I just wanted to go back to sleep.
I prepared all the things I would say to him when he asked to see me again. “It was a mistake,” or “It was great, but I don’t think we should do it again” or “I’m just the transition girl, but you’ll find someone else when you’re ready.” I stayed in bed watching him get dressed. He really did have a great body.
As I watched him, I decided I had been panicking because it had moved so fast between us. I wanted to continue to see him, only now, I’d withhold the sex until I felt more comfortable with our relationship.
When he ran out the door without saying a single thing about seeing me again, my feelings of confliction turned into feelings of outrage. How dare he not ask me out after what we had shared last night! Did he use me as I had used him?
As soon as Jamie left, I called Missy to ask her opinion.
“Hello?” Missy said, sounding tired. I must have woken her.
“Hey, it’s me. I slept with him,” I informed her.
Missy suddenly woke, animated and energized. “Has Jamie improved with age like a fine wine, or have too many years of fermenting caused him to turn to vinegar?”
I didn’t want to discuss my lack of an orgasm with Missy.
“I’d say he’s turned into wine, but he needs some more time to mature before I’d consider him fine,” I replied, trying to give her an honest answer without revealing anything too personal.
“Are you going to see him again?”
I had no idea. Until now, it hadn’t occurred to me he’d left without getting my phone number, and I had no way to contact him.
“I’m not sure. I think we just used each other for sex.”
“It’s probably for the best.”
“Why? What do you know?”
She paused before sighing in acquiescence. “After you left, I talked some more with Don, and he filled me in on a couple of things.”
Did I really want to hear what she had to say? Should I stop her before the truth tarnishes the reality? Since I’d probably never hear from him again based on his behavior this morning, I guess it couldn’t hurt.
“What did Don say?”
“Last night was suppos
ed to be Jamie’s wedding. His fiancée dumped his ass last weekend after she found out he had been cheating on her throughout their entire relationship.”
I had no words to describe how shocked I felt at hearing Jamie could act like such a jerk. The Jamie I fell in love with in high school would have never cheated. I thought back to our conversation last night about his father’s infidelity. Had his father’s actions caused Jamie to change, or had he grown into a hereditary trait? Was it a learned behavior, or ingrained in him at the start?
I’d never have the chance to know, because with my newfound knowledge, I’d never see him in the same way and the new Jamie was not someone I wanted to get to know better. I’m guessing that’s why he high tailed it out of my place first thing this morning.
“Why didn’t you call me and tell me last night?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d want to know. You were pretty intent on getting laid and I didn’t want to stop you. You needed it, and I figured you were safe with Jamie. I assumed you wouldn’t fall in love with him overnight, so I could wait and tell you in the morning. Was I wrong? Should I have called you last night?”
If she had called me last night, I would have never gotten to feel a man naked against me, and I had missed it. Or rather, I missed the intimacy. If I hadn’t slept with Jamie last night, I might not have learned what I really craved.
Not sex.
Love.
“I’m glad you waited and told me this morning. You really are the best friend anyone could have.”
“Does that mean you’ll come to my program today at the retirement home?”
“Anything for you.”
CHAPTER 11
APRIL 6, 2012
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
WEIGHT: 177
STATUS: SINGLE
Every year my parents hosted Passover dinner at their house. We aren’t very religious, but we still read through the entire Haggadah, which takes us about six hours from beginning to end. Sometimes, I can convince Missy to come to protect me from my nagging relatives, but this year she promised her mother she’d go to their cousins’ home, leaving me to fend for myself.
I volunteered to bring the wine, so that I didn’t end up getting drunk on the sweet Manischewitz wine like I did when I was fourteen. By the end of the Seder, most of us will have drunk about four glasses of wine. It might as well be the good stuff.
I walked through my parents’ door with my arms filled with bottles of wine, smelling the scent of brisket in the air. All the usual suspects were there already including my parents, Seth and Emily, my Aunt Hannah and Uncle Morris, my Uncle Saul and Aunt Trisha, my cousins Jon and Meredith along with their kids Greg and Natalie, and my other cousins Nancy and Harold with their kids Ellie and Stacy. I heard adult voices coming from the family room and the children’s voices coming from the basement, chaotic and crazy as ever.
I placed the wine on the tables set up in the dining room, taking in the beauty and splendor of it all. I always got a chill whenever I reflected on how Jews all over the world celebrated the holiday and how it united us all.
“Chag Sameach Pesach,” said a voice from behind me.
My heart began to beat wildly and I turned to the source of the voice.
Goldman.
My brother must have invited him. God give me the strength not to make another drunken mistake tonight.
“Chag Sameach,” I repeated. “Why aren’t you with your family?”
“My brother and my dad flew to Florida to be with my dad’s side of the family and my mother went on a cruise.”
“Why didn’t you go, too?” I would go to Florida in a heartbeat if I had the opportunity.
“I can’t miss work.”
“Well, it’s your parents’ loss and our gain then.”
Wait, did I just flirt with Goldman? Oh dear Lord, I haven’t even had my first glass of wine yet.
He didn’t seem to notice, thank goodness. “Thanks. So, your brother felt badly for me and invited me to your little shindig.”
“Did he warn you?” I lowered my voice.
“Warn me? Warn me about what?” He stepped closer to me.
I started getting nervous about being close to him. When I caught myself biting my lower lip, I immediately stopped myself since he’d wonder why his proximity affected me so much. Honestly, I don’t know how I would answer that question when I didn’t know myself.
“Well, first of all, we do the entire Seder. That means a service before dinner and after dinner.”
I saw a brief glimpse of fear in his eyes before he resumed his cool façade. “I can handle that. We get to drink wine, right?”
“Oh yeah. I brought the good stuff.”
He smiled and I melted. “Then I think I’ll make it through. What else?”
“My aunts spend most of the night gossiping about people you’ll probably know from the community, like who just got a facelift and who’s about to file for bankruptcy. It gets worse as the night progresses and they drink more wine.”
“If we’re having a service, how do they have time to gossip?”
“That is an excellent question. They talk over it. Even when we ask them to stop or go to another room, they’ll keep interrupting. It’s actually pretty funny.” Maybe that’s why Passover is my favorite holiday.
“I have an idea. How about every time one of your aunts interrupts the service with gossip, we take a sip of wine?”
Goldman impressed me with his creativity.
“I thought you had to work tomorrow.”
“I do.”
“Well you’re going to have one hell of a hangover. Plus, I usually stay over since I drink so much.” I hope he didn’t take that the wrong way.
“I don’t have to be at work at any particular time. If I can’t drive, I’ll crash on your parents’ couch. It wouldn’t be the first time,” he reminded me.
“Okay then. Let’s get this party started,” I said, and went to say hello to the family with Goldman at my side.
I never knew just how much my aunts gossiped until that night. It didn’t take more than an hour into the service before I had a pleasant buzz going from the wine. At this rate, I’d pass out in my matzo ball soup. Then my aunts would really have something to gossip about.
On the other hand, Goldman appeared to be unaffected by the alcohol. He read his part of the service with precision and polish, while I couldn’t stop losing my place and forgetting how to read Hebrew.
Then I saw how he was doing it. He had added water to his wine, diluting the amount of alcohol he consumed. I gave him an evil glare and kicked him under the table. Everyone looked at me.
“Excuse me. I had an itch,” I lied.
Aunt Hannah took it as an opportunity to grill me. “So, how is the search going?”
I played dumb. “Search?”
“You know, the husband search.” Aunt Trisha winked.
“Not bad I guess,” I answered vaguely, hoping my mother would rescue me by reminding my aunts we were supposed to be in the middle of a Seder.
Not only did my mother not interrupt, she seemed as interested in my search as everyone else. Only Goldman appeared uncomfortable.
“I heard Jamie broke up with his fiancée. He was always such a nice boy,” my mother proclaimed.
I just grinned and nodded, not wanting to share I ran into him at the speed dating event. I assumed they’d get back to the service if I didn’t say anything. Evidently, I was wrong because the questions kept coming.
“Didn’t you go to that speed dating event last weekend?” Seth asked me.
Goldman must have told my brother. We’d need to discuss that later.
“What’s speed dating?” asked Aunt Hannah.
“Yes, Goldman, explain speed dating to my family for me,” I said with a smirk.
“I, uh, it’s a bunch of six minute dates,” he tried explain and for the first time was at a loss for words. Good, the jerk deserved it for ratting me out to my brother.
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“Oh, like they did on House!” declared Uncle Morris.
I needed another glass of wine by then and I waited for the service to continue. When I realized everyone had forgotten about it, I downed my entire glass and refilled it.
“Did you meet anyone interesting?” asked my cousin Stacy.
“A couple of people, but I haven’t had a chance to go out with them yet. Goldman was there, too, right, Goldman? How many matches did you have?”
“Uh, a couple, but ...”
Ha! I got back at him. He squirmed in his seat.
My brother jumped in to rescue Goldman. “Why don’t we get back to the Seder? I’m starving!”
Figures, my brother will help out his friend, but leave me to the wolves. I’d have to think of a way to get back at him, but not tonight, because the wine made my thinking a little fuzzy.
“Yes, let’s get back to it.”
By the time we ended our Seder, the clock read 12:14 a.m. Everyone remained sober except Goldman and me, of course. Emily and I helped my mom clean up and did the dishes, while the rest of my family said their goodbyes. At one o’clock in the morning, Seth and Emily left and my parents went upstairs to go to bed. That left Goldman and I alone.
“Want to watch a little television?” he suggested.
“Sure. Why not?”
We caught the end of When Harry Met Sally.
“Do you think men and women can be platonic friends?” I wanted him to say no and kiss me. I wanted to believe maybe we both felt an attraction toward each other. That it wasn’t just me.
“No.”
He didn’t kiss me. “Look at us. We’re platonic friends. We’ve never had the idea of sex hanging over us.”
“We’re not exactly friends, Sara. You’re my best friend’s older sister. The situation doesn’t apply to us.”
“Thanks for throwing in the older part. You’re always so kind to remind me,” I said, then stuck out my tongue at him.
