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“Yeah. For sure. Totally okay with it.”
“Because I told Matilda if you had a problem with this, I would never—”
“Why would I have a problem with this??
? Did that come out too fast? That came out too fast.
“I don’t know. I mean, you said so yourself, you know, it’s just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Right.”
“So. No problem then?”
“Nope. I’m happy for you, Will. It’s fun and you’ll get to see what I’ve been saying all along, that S.E.C.R.E.T. helps people. It helps women. And I think you’re doing a very good thing. For a very … good woman.”
“Yes. Thanks. Good.”
“So. Ah. Did she … also tell you who would be training you?”
“Yes. She did.”
“And are you okay with that?” Here it comes. Here’s where he rejects me and I die a thousand deaths.
“Yeah. Totally. As long as you’re okay with it.”
“Well, I had to be okay with it. No one else wanted to,” I said, laughing at my own stupid joke, not understanding its harm until I watched Will’s entire face fall.
“No. No-no-no! Will. Jesus, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean no one wanted to have sex with you. I mean, everyone voted for you. They all would have volunteered. But they just felt that you and I … that maybe it would be best if I were the one who … Will, they’re my friends.”
He looked at me seriously. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Cassie? I mean we have a business together!”
“Well, if you think having sex with me again would jeopardize our business, then by all means, we don’t have to do it! It’s not like you signed a contract or anything. It’s just sex.”
“Yeah. It’s just sex.”
He stood there biting his bottom lip in deep consternation. Hands behind my back, I began to pace like Nixon, each of us waiting for the other one to speak first.
“Look,” I said at last. “I’m a grown-up. You’re a grown-up. And it’s not like we’ve never had sex.”
“True. True. You’re right,” he said. “Tell you the truth, Cass. Knowing it was you took some of the performance anxiety away. Someone I trust. Someone who knows me. I can hear it from you, you know—criticism, or direction, or whatever.”
“Yes. That’s what I thought. Right?”
“Have you told your boyfriend?”
“Jesse’s not my … we don’t have … he’ll be cool with it.”
“So you haven’t told him yet?”
It was barely detectable. And if you didn’t know Will Foret, well, you wouldn’t have picked up on that bit of joy he was taking out of imagining Jesse’s reaction when I told him I’d be training Will for a sex fantasy. Maybe that’s what this was really about—a competition between two men, one of whom wanted to prove himself to the other. Maybe Will just wanted to show Jesse he was a better S.E.C.R.E.T. swordsman, that given a chance he’d have punched Pierre Castille at that stupid soirée many months ago.
And as much as I hated to admit it (even to myself), I was secretly happy to act as judge.
Will easily passed the physical and psychological tests, and Matilda gave us the go-ahead to book our training. We joined our calendars and found a time that worked for both of us, which, naturally, was a Monday night, the night Cassie’s was closed.
“Good for you?” he asked, punching in the appointment.
“Good for me,” I said.
