Perfect Strangers

“I promise you there were no insects or toes involved, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sitting now, so go ahead and tell me what happened. And don’t skip any of the juicy parts. I’m living vicariously through you over here.”

I open the fridge and peer into it. “Well, for starters, he spanked my pussy until I came so hard I cried.”

I hear a loud thud and wonder if Kelly fell out of her chair.

She shouts, “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Hand to God, girlfriend.”

“You went straight from not liking any positions other than the missionary to getting your coochie spanked? And calling your coochie your pussy? What the hell has this man done to you? One date and suddenly you’re Rebecca De Mornay in Risky Business?”

I say drily, “Enough with the pearl clutching, grandma. May I point out, you just used the word ‘fuck’ not even ten seconds ago? So I’m not the only potty mouth in this conversation. And you’re seriously dating yourself with that movie reference.”

She says prissily, “Well, excuse me for not knowing any more recent movies about hookers.”

I grab a can of soda, pop the top, and guzzle half of it in one go. “I can’t even be Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman? Or what was that other movie, the one with Nicholas Cage where he’s an alcoholic and that pretty blonde hooker falls in love with him?”

“Leaving Las Vegas!” Kelly hollers. “And why the hell are we talking about hookers?”

“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.” I chug the rest of the can of soda, stifling a burp.

Some muttering and annoyed grumbling comes over the line, then Kelly says, “If you don’t tell me in extreme detail what happened last night from start to finish, I’m firing you as my best friend.”

She sounds serious, so after a short pause to gather my thoughts, I tell her everything.

When I’m done, thundering silence echoes over the phone.

“Hello?”

“Still here,” Kelly says faintly.

“So? What do you think?”

“What do I think? What do I think? I think I would shove my own mother down a flight of stairs to spend ten minutes alone in a room with this stud of yours. Jiminy Cricket, Olivia. Talk about intense.”

I close the fridge door and wander out of the kitchen into the living room, distracted from my hunger by memories of last night. Memories of James’s beautiful face and all the emotion shining in his eyes. “I know,” I say softly. “It’s pretty surreal.”

“Surreal is right!” She cackles, sounding on the verge of hysteria. “He never took off his pants! How is that even possible for a man? He’s got a naked woman orgasming in his lap and he keeps his pants on? Talk about superhuman willpower! Mike rips off all his clothes and jumps me if I even breathe in his direction.”

I muse over that for a moment. “Maybe his penis is pierced and he knows I’d faint if I saw that, so he’s trying to ease me into it one orgasm at a time.”

Kelly snorts. “Well, you ride that fat pierced anaconda, sister, and make sure you take good notes when you do, because from now on, I’m gonna be living for my daily episodes of Olivia Gets Her Coochie Spanked, starring Handsome James the Dirty Talking Artist.”

I dissolve into laughter. “You’re deranged.”

Her voice turns dry. “Twenty years of marriage to a man who thinks foreplay is standing at the edge of the bed and sticking his limp wang in my face when I’m about to fall asleep would make any woman deranged.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, don’t get me started. But listen.”

The change in her tone has me worried. “What?”

“Just…be careful. I know you set ground rules and you’ve both agreed it’s not gonna get personal, but sex has a way of complicating things. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

A faint warning bell goes off in the back of my mind, the same urgent alarm I heard last night when I was falling apart in James’s arms. I push it aside.

“Don’t worry. My eyes are wide open. I actually think this is going to be good for me. Clear out the cobwebs, so to speak. I woke up this morning and wrote five chapters of a new book.”

Kelly’s excited whoop is ear-piercing. “That’s amazing!”

I grin. “I know. I’m feeling really good about it, too. It’s much different from my usual work, but I think it could be some of my best.”

“Holy shit, Olivia, I’m so happy for you! This is exactly why you went to Paris in the first place! Who knew all you needed was some legendary dick to get your brain kick-started?”

Her excitement is infectious, and I laugh again. “Technically, I haven’t had his legendary dick yet, just a legendary orgasm.”

“Jesus, think what will happen when you have intercourse with this guy! You could end up writing the next great American novel. If you win the Pulitzer, you’ll have to go on stage and give all the credit to your vacation hookup’s lovely penis.”

I picture myself in an evening gown on stage in a crowded amphitheater, accepting an award from a dapper gentleman in a tuxedo, then turning to the podium to give a heartfelt speech of gratitude to James’s wonderfully inspiring genitals while the audience looks on with their mouths hanging open.

The imagery is interrupted when another call rings through. When I glance at the screen, I see that it’s James.

“Kell, Mr. Legendary Dick is calling. Can I call you back?”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And don’t forget—take good notes.”

She ends the call, leaving me smiling. I click over to James.

“Hello?”

“You’re smiling,” he says, his tone warm.

I turn and look out the living room windows. “How did you know that? Are you looking at me through binoculars right now?”

“I can hear it in your voice.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yes, really. Did you know you look like an angel when you’re asleep?”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. I wander over to the sofa and sit down, smoothing my hand over the spot on the middle cushion where James held me in his lap. “I don’t believe anyone has made that observation before, no.”

“Well, you do. A pornographic angel, if there is such a thing. I was worried I’d have to seek medical attention today because my dick stayed hard the entire night.”

I whisper, “I noticed that.”

After a beat, he whispers gruffly back, “You’re so fucking beautiful. Your skin makes me want to cry.”

I grin, blushing furiously. “I know that’s a line from a song, Romeo.”

“Damn. You caught me. My script writers are on break. Bonus points for effort, though?”