Triplets Make Five

My heart was pounding through the veins of my neck and I was not sure if it’s Caleb or the champagne, but my head was spinning.

“I disagree.”

“Why?”

“Intimacy means different things to men and women.” My own cynicism was the only thing keeping me grounded now, and I took a deep breath before continuing. “Sex isn’t fulfilling to everyone. I think women need more than that, to feel true intimacy. I think women need love.”

“Sounds like you haven’t been having sex with the right kind of people,” Caleb eyed me intently.

...or at all, I wanted to add, but I bit my tongue, determined to keep a level head through dinner. I sat back in my chair, and tried to clear my head. I tried to remember why I thought this was a good idea.

“Aren’t hotels like this technically your competition?” I asked, trying to change the conversation.

“All the more reason to come,” Caleb shrugged. “There’s plenty of room in the sea for different kinds of fish.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the analogy goes.”

“No?” his eyes twinkled up at me, challenging me again. “Remind me, then, how does it go?”

I felt my stomach twist and my heart hammered against my ribs, and I could feel the effect of his intense gaze all the way down to the slick heat growing between my thighs. It was becoming all too easy to soothe my nerves with champagne, and I know that I should stop.

“The saying is that ‘there are plenty of fish in the sea.’”

“But surely not all the fish are the same,” he added, raising an eyebrow like it’s a question that I’m supposed to answer.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, there are little fish: minnows, guppies…” his eyes flickered meaningfully, but he not smiling anymore. His words weren’t just a challenge anymore. They were a warning. “And then there are big fish. Sharks.”

It was obvious what he wanted me to ask next, and I could not stop myself from indulging him.

“What kind of fish are you, Mr. Preston?”

His eyes flashed darkly and he smiled, then he takes a long sip of champagne.

“The kind you should stay away from.”

9

CALEB

Broadway was a nightmare at night, but the thought of seeing Daisy lit up under the glittering lights as we strolled uptown was enough to make me stomach the trek after dinner.

I offered her my arm when we left the restaurant, and she didn’t protest. She tucked her hand into the crease of my elbow, and I felt a throb of hot excitement when she pressed her body against mine.

A few years ago, when I was still impatient and impulsive, I wouldn’t have made it through dinner with a girl like Daisy Wright. Especially not with her tits tempting me through that silk blouse. Especially not with her legs crossing and uncrossing eagerly under the table, shifting around in her soaking wet panties. Especially not the way she defied me, practically begging to be punished.

The old Caleb Preston would have thrown her over his shoulder, right there in the hotel dining room, and carried her all the way to the concierge desk to demand a room. The old Caleb Preston would have brought her upstairs, thrown her onto the bed, and teased and tantalized every inch of her body, until she cried out in defeat, admitting that I was right about sex and intimacy.

But not the new Caleb Preston. The new Caleb Preston took his time. The new Caleb Preston loved the challenge rather than the easy lay.

Daisy had made a fair point at dinner. Men and women do treat intimacy different. But it was not for the reason she thought.

The problem wasn’t that people have casual sex, it was that people have sex too casually. People settle for unfulfilling sex. Men have gotten lazy about pleasing women. And women have grown complacent in accepting mediocrity.

I could tell that Daisy was like me. She was a cynic. She had been burned enough times to put up her walls, and to convince herself that every man she met was the Big Bad Wolf. She had made up these rules for sex and love to try to rationalize something that could not be rationalized. Passion wasn’t a currency. It was not a regulated exchange.

The only thing preventing Daisy from having the kind of passionate, fulfilling, mind-melting sex that she considered impossible, was her own stubborn reluctance to demand it.