He sank into his work, the only place he could manage to lose himself, and was surprised to look up an hour later and realize how much time had passed. Once he’d sent the last graphics file he owed the ad agency, he picked up his phone and jotted down messages. Distributors, the glass company, a follow-up question from the liquor board. He was in auto mode halfway through, but then a message took him by surprise. A big surprise. Eric wrote down Beth’s number and hung up the phone, his heart suddenly speeding.
What did she want? And why had there been so much tension in her voice?
He’d assumed he’d never see her again, and the sudden shift of expectations made his pulse surge. He grabbed the phone and started to dial the number, but stopped before he got past the area code.
It was nearly eight o’clock. He was done here. Why call her when he could use this as an excuse to see her?
“Because you don’t want to see her,” he told himself even as he hung up the phone. And it was true to an extent. He didn’t want to see her, but maybe he needed to. Because every hint of the weariness that had dogged him all day had vanished at the possibility.
She was wrong for him. She hated him. Yet she made him feel alive.
That had to be a tale as old as time, but here he was telling it again. And here he was shutting down his computer and grabbing his phone and setting out for the White Orchid.
“Why not?” he muttered. She might still be at work. And if she wasn’t, he could always wander around the shop to find out what secrets it held.
This time when he pulled into the White Orchid, the parking lot was packed. Monday nights were slow at the brewery, but they seemed to be a hopping time for an erotic boutique. Maybe the stress of getting back to the workweek was too much for some people. They needed a release.
He spied the same red sports car that had been there the other morning and pulled in next to it.
Strangely, even though he’d been so self-conscious about his first trip, this time he didn’t even blink. The place was filled with customers who might know him, and he didn’t give a damn. He was too focused on getting a glimpse of Beth.
Would she be wearing one of those fantastic tight skirts she’d worn at the expo? The ones that were knee length and showed hardly a hint of skin, but somehow seemed dirtier because of it? Or would she be wearing tight jeans that framed the shape of her thighs? He didn’t give a damn which it was, but the anticipation of finding out shot through his body and squeezed his heart tight.
Eric opened the door, expecting to see customers in pairs and groups, spread throughout the store. His eyes were still sliding over the racks, searching out Beth, when he realized that everyone was gathered on one side of the store. In chairs. And Beth was standing in front of them, talking about…
“…the argument about the existence of the G-spot continues to this day, with each side insisting that the facts support their theory. Either that there is no G-spot and it is simply a figment of an overeager doctor’s imagination, or that every woman has a G-spot and if she doesn’t enjoy that sort of stimulation, she’s simply not doing it right. Personally, I can’t discount women’s experiences on either side of the issue, but we’re not here to take a stand either way. We’re simply here to help you explore the possibilities, and hopefully have fun while doing it.”
A class? Eric listened to laughter roll over the crowd and shook his head. A class?
This was what Tessa had mentioned a few weeks ago, when Jamie had chimed in and told Eric he should drop in and see if he could learn a few things from this woman. Eric had nearly choked on the horrifying irony. He’d already had his own one-on-one session with Beth Cantrell, and he’d learned plenty.
But this…
Beth was giving an anatomical description that sounded a bit like a map to treasure. Eric listened closely, because he’d never heard anything like this. The teacher in health class hadn’t even mentioned a clitoris, much less
a G-spot. Eric and every other boy in his junior high had been left to figure out female pleasure on their own. What a damned injustice, for both the boys and the girls.
But this information was priceless, and Eric considered taking a seat. He considered it, but found he was unable to move, frozen by the sight of Beth gesturing, shaping sexual knowledge with her hands as she coolly discussed the female body. Her body. She described female erectile tissue and the correlation to male anatomy, and all he could think about was touching her, making her wet, making her shake and scream for him.
Suddenly, she was done talking, and the audience was clapping. Eric blinked from a daze. Was it over? Had he missed it? But no. A dark-haired girl he recognized from the expo took Beth’s place and started talking technique. Eric wished he’d brought a notebook.
Beth edged over to stand at the side of the crowd, her back to the wall. She was dressed like the perfect model of an up-and-coming businesswoman, just as she had been at the expo. So how did she manage to make a black skirt and a gray button-down blouse look so…promising? Was it just her generous curves? Was it the schoolteacher vibe that reminded him of that damned mannequin near the register? Or was it the flash of a bright red necklace drawing his eye to her throat and the intriguing glimpse of skin above that first button?
Eric divided his time between keeping an eye on her and listening to what the other woman was saying. Something about pressure and stimulation. Something about female orgasm and—
His eyes slid to Beth again, and she was staring at him, her lips parted in surprise.
Eric straightened as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. He cleared his throat and shifted. She still stared.
Finally, she pushed away from the wall, skirted around the crowd and walked toward him. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, not exactly looking happy to see him.
“Sorry, I only got your message a few minutes ago. I was on my way home, so I thought I’d see if you were here. I didn’t realize you were…um, giving a class.”
A blush crept up her face. It had to be a blush. But that couldn’t be right. Maybe it was pink fury. “What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked before she could start yelling.
“Oh,” she said, turning to look around before tipping her head toward the door. “Can we speak outside?”
“Are you done?” He gestured toward the presentation, where the dark-haired girl now had her fingers thrust up inside an anatomical model. Eric tilted his head to the side to get a better view.