Deklan

“I did. Then I realized I wasn’t a quitter.”

I roll my eyes and listen to her puff a few times before she starts talking again.

“Now that I have a smoke, give me the deets on ‘kinda incredible.’”

“Um…” I look around the coffee shop, wondering if anyone is within earshot. The tables closest to me are empty, and I don’t think I’ll be overheard. “After I had my usual freak-out moment over the fact that Mom didn’t put anything useful in my travel bag, we talked a little. He was kinda pushing to hold off on the whole consummation thing, but I wanted to get it over with.”

“‘Get it over with?’” I can practically hear Kathy rolling her eyes. “How romantic.”

“Hey, I wasn’t so sure I was going to live through the night at that point.” I cringe when I realize what I’ve said. I don’t want Kathy to sense how serious my fear was, so I laugh it off. “I could have died of embarrassment or something.”

“But you didn’t, and you did go through with it.”

“Yes.” I take a sip of coffee and turn toward the wall a little. “He had me get on top. He said it would be easier that way.”

“Ride ’em, cowgirl!” Kathy snickers. “What does his cock look like?”

“Kathy!” I laugh and look around me, paranoid that someone might have heard her through the phone, but there isn’t anyone close by.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you to lose that cherry for a long-ass time! It’s time to compare some notes. How big is it?”

“Um…I think it’s pretty big. I don’t have anything to compare it with.”

“How about comparing it with a damn ruler?”

“Ya know, next time I’ll ask. ‘Hold on a sec, Dek—let me grab this measuring tape.’”

“Ha! You should at least be able to estimate.”

“Geometry was never my strong subject.”

“Ugh, Kera! You’re killing me here! Could you get your hand around it?”

“Barely.”

“Damn!

“Well, he’s not circumcised.”

“Really? You married a hood-rat?”

“Hood-rat?” I laugh out loud. “I dare you to say that to his face.”

“I’ve never done a guy who wasn’t cut. Does it look like it’s wearing a sweater? One of my co-workers is married to a Brit. He’s not cut, and she says it looks like a turtle head poking out of the sleeve of a sweater.”

“Um…kinda.” I laugh again and shake my head. It feels good to talk to Kathy.

“Is it straight? Curved? Does the end bend over into a hook?”

“Enough!” My sides are starting to hurt from laughing. “Tell me how you’re doing. How’s the new job?”

Kathy finished her nursing degree just a few months ago and was working her first serious job at an OB/GYN office.

“Full of baby goat heads,” she says bluntly.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’d think that all women would take care of their hoo-has, wouldn’t ya?”