Perfect Strangers

5

“He did not say that!”

“Yes, he did.”

“Holy shit. I would’ve dropped dead on the spot.”

“Trust me, I came close.”

I’m pacing back and forth in the kitchen of the apartment, trying to burn off some of the adrenaline that has my hands shaking and my heart thumping like mad. I’ve been on the phone with Kelly for half an hour already, filling her in on everything that happened since I hung up on her at the café.

James is due to arrive in ten minutes. My antiperspirant has failed, my mouth has stopped producing saliva, and I really need a bourbon, but I’m afraid one will become two, then three, and then I’ll be out of my wits.

And I desperately need my wits about me right now.

The few that haven’t already been paralyzed by James’s parting sentence.

“So what’re you gonna do?” says Kelly, sounding almost as panicked as I am.

I laugh a little in disbelief. “I guess I’m going to make him a list.”

I have to yank the phone away from my ear to save my hearing from Kelly’s piercing shriek. Then she comes back on, groaning.

“I’m so jealous of you right now. So. Jealous. The last time Mike asked me what I wanted in bed was back when we were first dating.” She stops to think for a moment. “No, that’s wrong. He didn’t ask me what I wanted—he asked me if I’d let him do butt sex.”

I grimace. “Thanks for that. Now I’ll have to picture the two of you having butt sex every time I see him.”

“I said no, dummy! That hole is exit only. So what’s gonna be on your list?”

“Not butt sex. I’m with you on that one.”

“Oral?”

“Yes, of course.”

We’re both quiet for a moment. Then Kelly says, “Well, I’m all out of ideas.”

“I know, right? I can’t tell the man I really enjoy the missionary position, that’s just sad!”

“We’re pathetic.”

“How did we not get any better ideas after buddy-reading Fifty Shades? That was practically a sex manual.”

“That was just fantasy, babe. Nobody does that stuff in real life.”

“Of course they do. There are millions of couples who enjoy bondage and spanking and stuff.”

Kelly snorts. “Do you know any of them?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I don’t know any koalas, either, but they’re out there in droves, living their fuzzy little lives in the branches of eucalyptus trees.”

“I feel like we’re getting derailed. Back to this sexy-time list. What about dirty talk?”

That stumps me for a moment. “Huh. I don’t know, I’ve never had a dirty talker.”

“Me, neither, but it sounds kinda fun, right?”

I crinkle my nose, thinking about it. “Or it could be the stupidest thing in the world. I saw a porno one time and the guy kept repeating to the girl, ‘Come for me, come for me,’ and I was like, nagging a woman into orgasm has never worked in the history of sex, pal.”

Kelly scoffs. “When did you see a porno?”

I adopt a tone of withering disdain. “Excuse me, but I’m a grown woman. I have watched a pornographic film.”

“Sure you have. What was it called?”

“I can’t believe you don’t believe me!”

“You’re a fiction writer. You make things up for a living. And you exaggerate more than anyone else I know.”

I mutter to myself, “Why am I even friends with this person?”

“Moving on. What about sex in a public place?”

“Like where?”

“A restroom?”

“Gross.”

“The back seat of a car?”

“I’m not that flexible. Something would cramp and unattractive flailing would ensue.”

“A park?”