After replying, she carefully laid her phone back on the desk, face down this time, and tried to focus. It took less than thirty seconds for her willpower to snap. She turned the phone over, anticipation humming through her as her eyes landed on the new text notification.
Are you teaching a course on how sex toys can change your life?
In spite of her smile, she rolled her eyes.
I’m not sure I’m qualified for that yet.
Well, that’s no good. When are you free to study? I’ve got a here with your name on it.
At the front of the classroom, the instructor, a professional-looking woman named Jill, had gotten through the first slide of the class, and was now delving into the ethics of the geolocation API in HTML5. In an attempt to look like she was paying attention, Cami wrote, “privacy, boo” on her notepad, then tapped out a quick response to Des. The man may as well have been a professional distraction.
She pursed her lips while scanning through her calendar.
I have class all day Wednesday, but I’m free after three on Tuesday, as long as I get home early.
His response was immediate. Was his job so cushy he could just sit by his phone waiting for her texts? Didn’t he have some kind of prototype Hulk dildo to approve?
Early dinner at my place, then more ~review~?
A thrum of want pulsed through her at the memory of the review they’d done on Friday night. She’d come away from it with a better understanding of the toys they sold, their place in a relationship, and her sense of self. And they’d only played with a handful of gadgets. She knew firsthand there were plenty more available to try out. But at this point, he’d proven she could come. He’d defeated that worry. Did she need him to help her conduct product review from here on out?
Maybe she did. There was a non-zero possibility that it wasn’t the sex toys that had been the key to her orgasms, but Des himself. They’d had one incredible session of ‘review,’ and it had proved she wasn’t broken, alleviating a significant mental weight for her. She’d never heard of a woman only being able to come with one specific person, but she wasn’t the worldliest.
There wasn’t any harm in testing out some more toys with Des, regardless. If she was doomed to never come again after they were through, she’d better stock up while she could.
She agreed to his proposal with more eagerness than the situation, perhaps, deserved. From the handful she’d had so far, she’d verified that orgasms were, indeed, wonderful, but there was a chance she was letting that cloud her judgment. Normal people didn’t have not-date naked toy time with guys who weren’t getting anything out of it. She was sure she would have heard about it by now if they did.
And that was a question worth considering. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what Des was getting out of this arrangement. He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy to get off on control, but she supposed that could be it. If he was interested in seeing her in a romantic sense, surely he would have just asked her out. She was by no means an expert in the world of dating, but it seemed the most logical conclusion. There could be some kind of ethical issue with dating someone at one of the stores he was trying to sell to, but that sounded like a stretch. Why should his bosses care who he dated as long as he sold toys?
She sighed, tapping the tip of her pen against the spiral of her notepad. It didn’t matter, anyway. He would have made it clear by now if he was interested in her like that. Even if he liked getting her off, no man wanted a relationship of no reciprocation, and if he’d wanted a turn for himself, he’d had plenty of opportunity to bring it up. He’d gotten hard last time—the ridge in his jeans rubbing against her knee as he urged herto her second blissful orgasm. But a boner did not a relationship make.
“Moving on from the morality of it, there are two ways to target HTML elements in CSS for styling: IDs and classes. IDs must be...”
Cami was certain this material was important, unlike Jill’s tangent about geolocation. But for the life of her, when she tried to focus on jotting notes, she only convinced her fingers to make a bullet point before the burning desire to check her phone for new messages gripped her. Damn Des and his godforsaken sex toys. Orgasms were going to get her kicked out of school. She could just imagine what the scholarship committee would say.
Tomorrow it is.
What class are you in?
That wasn’t the question from a man who only wanted not-dates. Was it? Maybe she was reading too much into it. It didn’t even matter, because she wasn’t interested in dating him. Why would anybody want to date a gorgeous, sexy, successful, motivated man who wasn’t threatened by introducing silicone extras into the bedroom? He was a nightmare.
She inhaled a deep breath, took a moment to come to terms with her huge raging crush on Des, then texted him.
It’s about HTML5 and CSS. The stuff wet dreams are made of.
She thought about adding the squirt emoji, but decided she couldn’t pull that off like Des could.
Sounds like it! I knew you were in school, but didn’t know you were doing computer stuff.
She smiled. ‘Computer stuff’ was about what she could expect most people to understand when it came to her program.
I’m doing my associate’s degree in computer information systems and website software.
His reply was immediate.
That sounds hard.
She caught a shrug just in time.
