Bliss

by Opal Carew

  When she turned and walked away, Quinn made no attempt to hide his frank admiration for the gentle sway of her behind.

  “So how many dates have you made already?” J.M. asked.

  “Oh, just the one. But the night is still young.” Quinn slapped J.M.’s back, then settled his arm over his shoulder and propelled them toward the escalators. “So . . . dinner? I heard there’s a great little pub just around the corner that serves a fabulous prime rib.”

  “I already made plans with a friend of mine.”

  “Man or woman?”

  J.M. smiled. “Woman, but as I said, she’s a friend.”

  “Okay, then. Invite her along.”

  They stepped onto the down escalator. J.M. tugged his cell phone from his pocket and typed in a text message to Grace’s number. “What’s the name of the place?”

  “It’s called the Waterford Pub. Two blocks east.”

  Ran into a friend. Mind if he joins us for dinner? Heading to the Waterford Pub.

  —J.M.

  About fifteen minutes later, J.M. walked along the street, snow crunching under his boots as a blustery wind chilled his face.

  “It’s just another block,” Quinn said.

  Finally, they entered the dimly lit pub, hung up their coats on coat hooks at the end of a row of wooden booths, and sat down.

  “Two of the house draft,” Quinn said to the waitress when she appeared.

  A few minutes later, she brought two tall mugs of cold, foamy beer and set them on the oak table. Quinn took a deep sip and smiled at J.M.

  “That hit the spot.”

  J.M. sipped his beer. He hadn’t seen Quinn in about three years when they’d attended a seminar together on Kama Sutra, but they kept in touch a little over e-mail.

  “So how’s it going with that interesting romantic arrangement you had going on?” Quinn asked.

  J.M. didn’t tell a lot of people about Hanna and Grey and him—most wouldn’t understand—but Quinn was different.

  “Well, it’s essentially over.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows arched upward. “She booted you out?”

  “No—”

  “He booted you out?”

  J.M. chuckled. “Nothing like that. They decided to have a baby—”

  “I thought the guy couldn’t. That’s why they’d had problems before.”

  “Grey can’t have kids, that’s true, but they decided to adopt.”

  “Ah, and you thought you’d be in the way.”

  “I think they need time to bond as a family.”

  “Hogwash.”

  J.M.’s eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

  Quinn leaned across the table and locked him in a visual grip. “I said hogwash. Having you around won’t affect a baby. In fact, I bet they’d love extra help around the house to take care of the little one . . . or help with meals or laundry and all that stuff.” Quinn pointed a finger at J.M. “If you’re not in that relationship, it’s because you don’t want to be.”

  Kara took a sip of her wine as Grace placed her order for the daily special, which was a salad with mandarin oranges followed by fillet of sole almandine. Kara ordered the goat cheese chicken wrap with a side salad.

  “I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Jeremy yet. Do you know what time it is?” Grace asked.

  “No, I don’t have a watch.”

  Grace pulled her cell phone out of her purse and flipped it open.

  “I missed a text. Probably Jeremy.” She tapped at the phone. “Darn. He’s at another restaurant with a friend and asked me to join him.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Kara said. “We can cancel our orders and just pay for our drinks. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Of course not. I’ll just tell him we’ll make it another day. He’ll probably want to catch up with his friend anyway.” Grace tapped at her phone. “Unfortunately, that means you won’t get a chance to talk to him before your interview after all.” She closed her phone and put it back in her purse. “I could arrange to get you both together for dinner tomorrow.”

  “That’ll be too late. I interview him tomorrow after his workshop.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Grace smiled. “I could ask him and his friend to join us for drinks later. I really think the two of you might hit it off. Then you won’t be left in your room with just that little vibrator for company.”

  “Grace, that’s really nice of you, but I’m not really interested in getting to know someone who teaches . . . I don’t know . . . airy-fairy sexual techniques.”

  “Really? You shouldn’t knock it unless you’ve tried it.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And word on the street is that Jeremy is the best.”

  I’m sure J.M. could give this guy a run for his money.

  As sorrow sliced through her at the thought she’d never see him again, she realized she’d done the only sensible thing by ending it quickly and cleanly.

  “If you’re not interested in Tantra, why are you interviewing Jeremy?” asked Grace.

  “My editor set up the interview. I . . . write a column on sex for Urban Woman magazine.” At the nagging tension about her job, her stomach coiled into a knot.

  Grace sipped her wine and watched Kara.

  “Obviously, you’re not happy about that.”

  “Not really. Not just because she gave me an assignment I’m not thrilled with—that’s part of the job—but because . . . I’m afraid she thinks my column is getting stale. There are a lot of people who would love to have a column in this magazine. People with amazing writing credits . . . , with great ideas.”

  “But sex sells. And you’re good at what you do, right?”

  “Uh . . . sure. I guess.”

  “Well, there’s your problem right there. You need to believe in yourself.”

  J.M. returned Quinn’s stare.

  “Well, it’s true I didn’t want to be the outsider. The third wheel.”

  Quinn nodded. “You want a woman of your own. I can understand that.”

  “And what about you?” J.M. asked. “What are you up to these days?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to pick your brain for a project I’m doing.”

  J.M.’s brow furrowed. “And what is that?”

  “I’m writing another book. Kama Sutra for Three.”

  “You’re kidding? Hasn’t that been done?”

  “No.” He thudded his hand on the table in emphasis. “I was surprised, too. There are all kinds of Kama Sutra books out there, from versions for two men to Kama Sutra for cats, but nothing for threesomes.”

  “Leave it to you to find a niche market like that.”

  “You bet. And the research is bound to be a blast. If you can hook me up in a threesome, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  “There is this one woman, actually—Hanna’s sister. She’s here at the conference.”

  He definitely got the idea Grace would like to try a threesome, and he thought she and Quinn would hit it off, but they’d need to find a third. He definitely would not get involved . . . not with Grace. She was almost like his own sister now.

  “Great. Can you set us up?”

  “I’ll introduce you, but don’t assume she’ll want to jump into it. I just think she might be interested. And you’ll need to work out the other guy.”

  “What? You don’t want to jump into the sack with your ex-girlfriend’s sister?”

  “Uh . . . no.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Too bad. It would have made it so much easier.”

  Kara sat at the round table in her room and glanced through the conference schedule. After dinner with Grace, she’d excused herself to come back to the room to read the workshop descriptions and decide which to go to. The conference didn’t officially start until Monday morning, so tomorrow was a special early-bird day with a choice between two half-day sessions in the morning and two in the afternoon. Grace was giving one of the morning workshops about how to get past sexual issues and relationship problems by looking at
past experiences and understanding what patterns one tends to repeat, so they can be avoided. Jeremy Smith’s Tantra workshop was one of the afternoon sessions.

  Kara took out her pink highlighter to mark the ones that interested her for the rest of the week. She scanned the page with the Monday workshops, and stopped at one about sensual massage. She made a pink stroke over the title. Next, she found a panel where the audience could ask questions of a psychologist who specialized in sex and had written a couple of books on the topic. She made another pink stroke.

  The write-up right below that described a session on orgasms—the different levels of orgasm in women, how to improve the intensity, and how to achieve them for those who had problems. She definitely wanted to go to that one. It would give her some great material for her column.

  Another that caught her eye was one on women’s sexual fantasies with a discussion of what was popular and why. Use of sex toys, not just for solo enjoyment, but also to increase pleasure with a partner. Unfortunately, the latter conflicted with the one on orgasm, which she didn’t want to miss.

  She scanned through the subsequent days on the schedule, continuing to highlight sessions she’d like to attend, until she worked out a solid schedule for the week. Then she rose and stretched her legs, changed into her pajamas, and slipped into bed. She turned on the TV and watched a little of a late-night talk show until she began to yawn. She flicked off the TV and turned off the light . . . then stared at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and rolled over but knew she wouldn’t fall asleep soon. This always happened when she was in a strange bed.

  Except last night. But then, she’d been with J.M. She hadn’t fallen asleep right away, since J.M. had kept her a little busy, but when they’d finished their phenomenal lovemaking, she’d immediately fallen asleep in his arms.

  She pulled the covers tighter around her. She wished his arms were around her now. The image filled her with a comforting heat, which quickly turned to tingles quivering through her as she remembered his hands caressing her breasts and his tongue teasing her nipples to hard buds. They swelled in response. Damn, this frustration would make it even harder to sleep.

  Maybe she should have taken Grace up on her offer to meet her friend tonight. If Grace liked this Jeremy, maybe he wasn’t all that bad, despite his elitist attitude about sex. At least he’d do his best to please her. His reputation as a Tantra expert relied on it.

  On the other hand, there was an alternative.

  Six

  Kara flicked on the light and slipped out of bed. She found the tote bag on the dresser and sifted through it until she found the little package with the silver bullet. She ripped open the cellophane and stared at the silver device. It was small, but she bet it would do the trick.

  Damn, she didn’t have any batteries. She flicked the switch and it purred in her hand. Great. The organizers thought of everything. She tugged off her pajamas and tossed them on the chair, then climbed into bed again. She set the bullet beside her and lay back, then thought of J.M. She closed her eyes and pictured him in bed with her, gliding her fingers over his hard, muscular chest, down his ridged abs, then wrapping around his hard cock. Big and heavy. Thick. She ran one hand over her breast, then toyed with the puckered nipple. Her other hand explored between her legs and slipped inside. She was already wet and ready. She imagined J.M. kissing her lips, then his big masculine body prowling over her. His hot cock, so hard and thick, brushed her slit, then the cockhead pushed against her. She remembered the heat of his body against her. His mouth capturing hers . . . then moving to her breasts and sucking her nipples . . . gliding lower . . . his tongue slipping inside her, then quivering against her clit.

  She grabbed the bullet and pressed it to her wet flesh, then turned it on at a low vibration. It fluttered against her clit and she sucked in a breath. Pleasure rippled through her. As she imagined J.M.’s huge, hard cock slipping inside her, she eased the bullet inside. She thought of his cock impaling her deeply and she tightened her muscles around the device. She turned up the vibration and squirmed at the intense sensations. His cock drove deep as the bullet quivered inside her. She squeezed it and rocked her pelvis.

  It wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t big enough . . . didn’t go deep enough. She drew it out and pressed it against her clit. She imagined J.M.’s arms around her, his hard body against hers as his cock drove deep. The little device continued to quiver against her clit. Intense, sharp pleasure spiked through her and she sucked in air. She thought about how J.M. had thrust into her . . . again and again. How pleasure had rocketed through her, building to an incandescent flash of joy.

  She turned the device even higher and an orgasm was wrenched from her. She gasped, then moaned. The device whirred.

  Finally, she collapsed on the bed, spent.

  She’d achieved orgasm, but it was empty at best.

  Damn, but she missed J.M.

  Kara walked through the atrium toward the Iris Ballroom, where Grace’s workshop would be. She peered in the room and saw Grace standing at a table at the front of the room facing about twenty rows of chairs. About a third were already full.

  Grace noticed Kara and waved. Kara stepped toward her.

  “So it looks like you’ll have a good crowd.”

  Grace glanced around. “I think you’re right.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “A little. Listen, may I ask you a favor?”

  “Uh . . . sure.”

  “I’m going to need someone to come up for a demonstration partway through and . . . I could ask for a volunteer, but I was wondering if you’d do it instead.”

  “You don’t want to take someone from the audience?”

  “Well, I never know if I’m actually going to get anyone to volunteer, and I usually have to cajole people and then they’re nervous and I have to take time to calm them down and . . . no matter what, if you sit in the front row, you can be up here fast and we can keep things moving along. And after people see what’s involved, others will be willing to volunteer later in the session.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  Grace smiled. “Great. Thanks.”

  Kara glanced around at the room, now nearly full, and her stomach quivered. The thought of going up in front of all these people made her nervous.

  “Um . . . what will I have to do during this demonstration?”

  “Oh, I’m just going to ask you a few questions about your romantic relationships.”

  “But—”

  Grace smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great. Right now maybe you should grab a seat before there are none left up front.”

  Kara nodded. She really didn’t want to do this, but she couldn’t back out now. That wouldn’t be fair to Grace. She settled into one of the few chairs left in the front row, off to the right.

  The session started and Grace introduced herself and the fact she was a natural healer. She mentioned several techniques she used that Kara had never heard of, like craniosacral something-or-other and NET, or Neuro Emotional Technique, which helped release emotional stress stuck in the body that stopped people from achieving goals. Kara wasn’t interested in all the details of what a naturopath did, or the energy mumbo jumbo. She doodled in her notebook while barely listening, mainly because her stomach continued to flutter in anticipation of what Grace would ask when Kara was in front of all these people.

  “So how many of you have had trouble finding a satisfying relationship?” Grace asked.

  Kara immediately straightened in her chair. About two-thirds of the people in the room put up their hands.

  “If you want to have a sound relationship, you want to go into it with a sound goal. So often we repeat the mistakes of the past and continue to seek the same type of partner we’ve had before, even though that relationship didn’t work out. Of course, finding a good alternative healthcare provider who can help you remove whatever blocks you have against finding a happy and lasting relationship will help immensely, but there are some questions y
ou can ask yourself.”

  She glanced at Kara and smiled. “Kara, would you come up, please?”

  Kara stood up and placed her notebook on her chair. She smoothed her skirt as she approached Grace. Grace pulled a chair back from the table and set it in an open area at the front of the room and gestured for Kara to sit.

  “I’d like you to think back on all the romantic relationships you’ve had, then I’d like you to think about the list of qualities you’d look for in the ideal man.”

  She paused for a few moments while Kara thought about the men she’d dated and the qualities that had drawn her to them.

  “What qualities would your ideal man have?” Grace asked

  “Okay, well . . . I want a man with intelligence . . . a sense of humor . . . and similar interests to mine.”

  “Did most of the men in your past possess those qualities?”

  “Yes, mostly.”

  “Okay, good. Now think back on the relationship you most wish had lasted. Why do you think that one didn’t last?”

  She thought back to the man she’d dated about three years ago. Perry. He’d been smart, fun to be with, and he’d made her feel special—at least for the first few months they’d dated.

  “I don’t know. . . . Interest just seemed to fizzle. We didn’t seem to spend much time together anymore. He was an architect and worked long hours. And, of course, he was a guy, so he wasn’t interested in any kind of commitment.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He . . . could have been more affectionate. You know how some men tend to be distant.”

  “So looking back at your list of qualities for your ideal man, do you have on there: puts his work ahead of you, is unwilling to show affection, and doesn’t want to be part of a committed relationship?”

  “No.”

  “Of course not. But it is what you’ve learned to expect. Your choice of words gives us a hint. You said since he was a guy, he wasn’t interested in commitment, and that men tend to be distant. Your beliefs about what you would find in a relationship came true.”

  Grace rested her hand on Kara’s back and turned to the audience. Kara could feel heat emanating from her palm similar to what she’d felt from J.M. on the plane. Kara felt the tension fade from her body.