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“Of course you did.”
“Their partners don’t know how to get them off. Or they know like one way to do it and they ride that horse into the ground.” She’d once dated an engineer who insisted that any position besides missionary gave him a migraine. “But you could help them. You said you wanted to produce something. What if you made something somewhere between porn and sex ed?”
Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “Like an orgasm how-to guide?”
“Yes! Exactly. You could narrate tips and tricks and . . . I don’t know . . . scenarios focused on women’s sexual pleasure. Your fan base would eat that up.”
Josh bit his thumbnail. “It’s not a bad idea, but the start-up costs associated with something like that would add up fast. You’re talking hiring performers, renting a sound stage. You need a ton of expensive equipment. Lighting, editing, web hosting, marketing. I’ve got some savings, b
ut I’d burn through it way before I ever saw money back. Even if we set up a subscription model.”
“Well, I could help pay for it.” She’d always imagined that eventually, she’d sponsor the creation of meaningful art with her wealth. While this particular type of venture had never entered her mind, she found she wasn’t opposed. In fact, she could barely catch her breath for how excited the idea made her.
“What? No. I’m not taking your money.”
“Why not? Lots of projects get investors. I’ve got a trust fund just sitting there. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t believe in the concept.”
“No. Seriously. Borrowing money ruins friendships.”
Clara’s cheeks heated. “You consider me your friend?”
“Of course you’re my friend, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“Then don’t let the money thing make it weird. Women need this. No.” She corrected herself. “Women deserve this.” She stood up. This felt like the kind of moment when a person should stand up. “Women need to know that their pleasure matters. If we build the right resource, the world would no longer have an excuse not to know how the clitoris works.”
Josh stared up at her. “I can’t believe you said clitoris at full volume. I can’t tell if I’m afraid of you right now or turned on. Possibly both. Are you sure you only had two glasses of wine?”
If only his attraction didn’t extend to the entire female half of the population. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
He looked at his hands folded in his lap and sat uncharacteristically still. “Why me?”
Couldn’t he see it? “You’re the perfect inspiration. God knows I don’t want to inflate your ego further, but I can imagine you’re a gateway to porn for a lot of women. Must be your massive . . . personality.”
A smile broke across his face. “I’m pretty sure that somewhere in that little soapbox speech was the nicest compliment I’ve ever been paid.” Josh stood up from the couch and bumped her shoulder with his own. “But don’t I need, you know, women for an idea like this? I’m not exactly an authority on the female body.”
Clara snorted. “Obviously. But you wouldn’t have to do it alone.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“Me? Oh no. Absolutely not.” Her vision swam at the very thought of tying her name to a project like that. “Just think of me as an anonymous bag of money. You must know someone, a woman someone, who wouldn’t mind being on camera.” She stared at the ceiling. “Naked.”
“I know a lot of someones like that. But someone who wouldn’t be deterred by Pruitt’s threat? That narrows the list considerably. There is one person who comes to mind, but that might make things a little complicated.”
“Well, call her.” Clara knew he meant Naomi Grant. That this business idea she’d had would likely provide the setting for their inevitable reconciliation. Attempting to ignore the panic climbing up her body, Clara realized that she’d just handed Josh a one-way ticket out of her life.
chapter sixteen
JOSH LEARNED THE definition of the word awkward underneath the disco lighting of a West Hollywood bowling alley.
“Clara, I’d like you to meet Stu . . . or uh . . . I mean, Naomi Grant,” he said a week and a half later, raising his voice over the clashing of pins as he introduced the last woman he’d touched sexually to his ex-girlfriend.
He’d attempted to be strategic with the location for extending his business proposal. Nothing corporate or fussy. Bowling seemed smart because it gave everyone something to do with their hands, but he hadn’t anticipated that the only available lane at two p.m. on a Sunday would be smack-dab between a middle school birthday party and league practice for seniors.
Clara shifted the pair of bowling shoes she held to free up her right hand and extend it for Stu to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you prefer Naomi or . . . Stu, was it?”
“If you call me Naomi there’s a better chance I’ll answer.” His ex looked around the bowling alley with a deep glower.
They all stood in a little circle staring at one another and holding shoes that didn’t belong to them. “Shall we?” He gestured for the two women to precede him in selecting their bowling balls.
