Maeve looks down at her hands which are playing with the duvet and she keeps her eyes downcast. “But you… I bet you like, well, everything.”
I swallow. “Well, actually, no. I like a lot of things, sure. But there are some things that are hard nos for me too.”
“There are? Like what?” she asks, and her eyes are back on me, all big and innocent.
“Like… piss and poop play, I’m not into those things.”
Her eyes widen. “There are people who are?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And blood play. I’m okay with period fun but actual blades and shit. No. Thank you.”
Maeve’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her head. “I’m not sure if this is helping me.”
“Okay, I’ll think of something more vanilla.” I look up at the ceiling. “Got it. Armpits. I don’t really like armpits.”
She cringes. “Who does?”
“A lot of people. I’ve had several partners want to spend ages kissing and licking my armpits. And I’ve been asked to return the favor and I just don’t… get it. I mean, I think it looks hot, watching other people do it, but it’s the last place I want to put my mouth when it comes to intimacy and when I get it done to me, it really fucking tickles!”
“So what do you do when people ask you to do it?”
My mouth goes dry. “Well, I still do it.”
“But why?”
“Well, like I said, it looks good on camera.” And it’s my voice that is now small and quiet.
“Honestly, all the more reason why you should probably say no. I can imagine talking about limits and holding a boundary during sex is something that isn’t seen in porn very often,” Maeve muses and every word lands heavily with me. “I mean, I understand why, it’s not sexy, but isn’t it also normalizing doing shit you don’t want to do?”
I pull my lips into my mouth and nod my head for a few seconds. “You know what, Maeve, you’re absolutely right.”
And then I kick my legs out of bed and stand.
“What… where are you going?”
“To give you some privacy,” I say, reaching for my jeans.
“Jesus, I’m not going to have a wank now.”
“But would it help?” I look back at her and watch as her legs tense under the covers.
“Sure, yeah, maybe.”
“Then do it, Maeve,” I say. “I’ll just go for a walk. How long do you need? Twenty minutes? Thirty?”
She shakes her head vehemently, making her hair fly out over her shoulders.
“I don’t want you to go. You had a shit night’s sleep last night. It’s not fair if you—”
“I don’t want you to go. You had a shit night’s sleep last night.”
“I really don’t mind,” I say, pulling my jeans on.
“But I…” Maeve trails off.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to go,” she says finally.
