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“Why do I feel like a teenager asking my gyno for birth control for the first time?” I joked.
He looked at me quizzically. “Your doctor asked if you used a vibrator? That seems a little…perverse.”
“Not that exactly. But they’d ask about sexual activity.”
“If you want to spread your legs, I’d be happy to give you a thorough examination.” He winked.
My cheeks heated at the thought. “Again… You are shameless.”
“What can I say? I’ve been told I have a pretty twisted sense of humor.”
“You were told correctly.”
“So, how often?”
I shrugged, averting my gaze, but he gripped my chin, forcing my eyes back to his.
“It’s been a while for that, too, hasn’t it? That’s why your friend wrote to get a vibrator and use it?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay. But you do get yourself off in other ways, right?”
“Occasionally.”
“How occasionally are we talking? And it better be more than once a week.”
When I didn’t respond, his eyes widened even more. “What are you? Practicing to join a convent?”
“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. I have a very busy life. I don’t have time to be…self-indulgent.”
“Self-indulgent? That’s not being self-indulgent at all. Taking care of your needs — physically, spiritually, and sexually — is a necessary part of your well-being. You think you should deprive yourself of feeling good just because you have a hectic life?”
“Sort of,” I answered sheepishly. When he didn’t say anything, I continued, “I guess there’s a part of me that thinks if I don’t spend every hour of every day putting…other people’s needs ahead of mine, I’m failing them.”
I was careful not to mention my daughter. Not because I was embarrassed of her. Quite the opposite. But I didn’t feel the need to bring her up, to share her with this man who wouldn’t be in my life after I left Hawaii.
“Regardless of anyone who may depend on you,” he stated cautiously, “there’s nothing wrong with taking time for yourself, for your needs. After all, isn’t that the purpose of the list you made? Why you’re here with me tonight? To finally choose yourself?”
I swallowed hard. “It is.”
“Then tell me about your needs,” he demanded in a sultry voice that was as smooth as butter and as rich as caramel. It oozed sin. Lust. Desire. Everything I’d stayed away from for years. “What do you like in the bedroom?”
I parted my lips, no words forthcoming. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to formulate a response. I was woefully ill-equipped to have this conversation. Here I was, trying to talk about sex after years of being made to believe the only purpose of sex was to control and manipulate.
But I didn’t want that anymore. I wanted to finally experience what so many of my friends did. What they wrote about in romance novels or showed in movies.
I wanted passion.
I wanted excitement.
I wanted to ache with need.
Then again, in the past hour I’d been with Chris, I felt all those things with an intensity I didn’t think possible.
“You’ve never found sex to be satisfying, have you?” he remarked when I remained silent.
“That’s one way of putting it.” I rolled my eyes. “So when you ask about my needs… I honestly don’t know what those are. Sex was never about my needs.”
