I half expect her to ask me about Afghanistan, but she doesn’t. I’m glad. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to her about it yet. I’ve already metaphorically—and physically, as it happens—unzipped my fly tonight. There’s only so much confession and vulnerability a man can take.
Aurelia takes a spoonful of Tiramisu and holds it up to me. I smile and close my lips around the spoon, and she withdraws it slowly. I’ve heard this dessert is used as an aphrodisiac and thought it was just due to the alcohol in it; I didn’t think about the creamy texture, and how intimate it is to share the same spoon.
We eat quietly, listening to the rain hammering against the windows. Aurelia has put on the air conditioning, and the welcome breeze cools my bare chest.
I think about our lovemaking with a sense of delight mixed with bewilderment. It already feels like a dream. I have a picture of her in my mind, of her sitting astride me, her hand between her legs, touching herself. Her head was tipped back, her eyes were closed, her lips parted in a sigh. It was so sensual, so sexy. In contrast, the memory of sex with my ex fills me with sadness.
“Penny for them,” she says. Then she blushes as she realizes what she’s said. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean…”
I chuckle. “It’s okay. I was actually thinking about her.” Our eyes meet, and it’s my turn to wince with embarrassment.“That came out wrong. I was thinking about how amazing sex with you was in comparison.”
“It’s such a shame.” She digs her spoon into the soft cake soaked with Marsala wine at the bottom. “I feel for her. She obviously had problems. But you’ve got to want to solve them yourself.”
I nod slowly. “That’s true. I’d read about vaginismus and wondered whether she’d developed that as a result of her abuse.”
“That’s, like, tightening of the vagina, right?”
“Yeah. It would explain why she found penetration uncomfortable. I suggested she see the doctor in case he could give her something for it.”
“And?”
“She said no, obviously. She always dismissed any attempts on my part to solve our problems as me being obsessed with sex.”
“So she found it uncomfortable every time?” Aurelia’s face is kind and interested. I’ve never talked about this to anyone, and it’s refreshing to be able to for once.
“Maybe eight out of ten. Some positions were definitely a no-go. Anything from behind just meant I went too deep. And pain is whatever the opposite to an aphrodisiac is.”
“A passion killer.”
“Yeah.”
“And you mentioned no oral either?”
I shake my head and have another spoonful. “She said she didn’t like the sensation. Maybe it was my technique, I don’t know.”
“I doubt it. I can imagine if the guy is going at it hammer and tongs, it might be uncomfortable, but I can’t imagine you being rough.”
“No, I was alwaysgentle as.” I scrape around the side of the bowl, collecting the delicious creamy topping. “Do you like it?”
“Oral? God, yes. It takes me, like, thirty seconds to come, especially on top.”
“On top?”
“You know. Face sitting.”
“Jesus.”
She giggles. “What?”
I blink a few times, trying to shake the image out of my mind. “You’re going to give me another hard-on.”
“Next time, I promise I’ll sit on your face.”
I fall back onto the pillow and cover my eyes with my arm. “For fuck’s sake.”
She laughs, moves closer to me, and kisses my biceps. “Sorry.”
I lift my arm. “Don’t ever apologize.” I cup her face and look into her eyes. “You’re wonderful, and…” I hesitate.
