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A second session of just sex? A third? An entire no-strings-attached arrangement?
Is that actually possible?
ChapterFour
IMOGEN
For a few minutes, I lie in bed, soaking in the satisfaction coursing through my body.
Bit by bit, my blood returns to my brain. My senses shift to their usualI'm thinking about everything, all the timemode.
My sheets smell like Patrick. The pine scent of his soap and something all him.
Hell, I smell like him. The sweat and saliva and other recently utilized bodily fluids.
I find enough energy to move into the shower. I soap, shampoo, condition, try to straighten my thoughts.
Maybe it doesn't have to be complicated.
I want to see him again.
He wants round two. Three. Infinity.
But then he's not in his shower, wondering where I stand. I know I shouldn't stereotype, but he's a man, and he's smooth enough he must be experienced.
My thoughts swirl. Orange-scented soap. The taste of his lips. The feel of his hands on my skin. The way his smile sent my stomach into free-fall.
There's only one thing to do when I'm in this state: write.
I turn off the shower, dry, admire my tattoo one more time (it's seriously amazing), and slip into my pajamas.
Then I set up on the couch with my laptop, and I shift into the zone. It's hard to explain. I'm not a writer, really. I don't have dreams of poetry books, fiction novels, memoirs on Oprah (does Oprah still have a show?).
But, here, with my hands on my keyboard (or around a pen), I'm in the zone. Writing is the only way I can really understand what I'm feeling. And I'm not good with feelings. That's why my life is such a mess. These things don't come naturally to me.
Maybe it's my parents (they barely acknowledge emotions). Maybe it's genetics. Maybe it's the result of the wrong friends, wrong schools, wrong TV shows. I don't know, but I know I'm not like my sister.
She leans on people, works as a team, talks when she's overwhelmed.
I'm only capable of sharing my feelings with anonymous strangers. But, hey, I'm sharing them. That's progress.
How do other people find the energy for relationships, anyway? Even if I wanted something serious (and I don't) and Patrick wanted the same (and he doesn't), I don't have the space.
Between class, swim-practice, and my once-a-week job giving lessons (not to mention Sunday dinners with my parents), I don't have the room for anything else. Even now, during summer session, with a lighter workload and a lack of swim meets, I use my extra time to stay functional.
But maybe this is a part of that goal.
Sex is a part of life. And it's a very relaxing, fulfilling activity. Maybe it's a part of my self-care.
I just need to put it in terms I understand. Scientific terms.
Psychology and economics (I'm double majoring) explain people as well as anything does.
Psychology: Human beings need connections with other human beings. Human beings need to satisfy their carnal urges.
Economics: Random hookups have low opportunity cost, but they present a lot of risks, especially for women.
Question: How can Imogen Nguyen best fill her needs?
