Page 1 of The Plus One Pact

Chapter One

Ivy

Outside, the sun is shining. The sky is blue. The sort of blue that makes you feel at peace with the universe. Spring in the Mediterranean. Rebirth. Beauty in the world. Whatever.

But I'm not outside.

I'm inside, in a beautiful apartment in Barcelona. The sun shines through the big windows here. And it's so bright in my heart I can practically see the blue skies.

Because I'm here with a Spanish bullfighter. Naturally. It turns out Barcelona is full of Spanish men. Who would have guessed?

His apartment is in an old building, without an elevator, and the walk up the stairs is torture. We're that desperate to tear each other's clothes off.

It feels as if it takes him a million years to open the door. How can a door open this slowly. It must be the old architecture. Maybe Gaudi designed this building too. Maybe that was the only unique touch. Doors created solely to test the physical body.

Finally, he pushes the door open and whisks me inside—and against it all at once. And he whispers te quiero in my ear.

Te quiero.

Te necisisto.

Te—

I'm running out of Spanish dirty talk.

Which speaks to my own lack of learning. I've lived in Southern California for my entire life. How is it I don't speak this language? How is it I haven't at least had sex with a guy who whispered sweet nothings in Spanish in my ears?

I took three years of Spanish in high school. Surely, I can come up with something.

Dolce—

No, that's Italian. Or is it Latin? Or are they the same? Beso is kiss. Dammit. Meredith didn't write the rest of these lines.

Because that's the thing. I'm not really in Barcelona. And I'm certainly not alone with a bullfighter. I've never even been to Spain.

This story, like all my dirty stories, belongs solely to my producer Meredith.

Because I, Dr. O, host of the county-famous podcast Sex and the OC, am a liar.

Thankfully, podcasts aren't radio. We're not live. Meredith and I pause to go over the details, then we record the way we always do.

I finish the spicy story, in gritty detail. The way my body hummed when the bullfighter touched me. The feeling of my hands against his skin. The sound of his voice in my ear.

The thrill of sex with a stranger.

The silly role-play games we played. We took turns as the bull and the rider.

I'm not sure how that works, actually. The riding itself, I see that. Obviously. I can ride him. He can ride me.

But what about the flag? Did she really chase him around the room waving his t-shirt?

She must feel silly doing something like that.

Or maybe not. That's Meredith. She's an uninhibited freak (her words). I'm… a PhD. I know everything there is to know about sex and nothing about how to apply that knowledge.

But, hey, that's why I'm here, hosting a podcast, not there, in Barcelona, fucking bullfighters.

I'm good here. I'm really good here.