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Taking the chance to turn the attention away from myself, I ask, “So how far did you two go, if you don’t mind my asking? ’Course if you don’t want to kiss and tell—”
“Pbbff. Why wouldn’t I? It’s so much fun to kiss and tell! I mean, it was just a quickie because, you know, he had guests downstairs, but we went all the way.”
Her eyes are shining.
I inquire, “So I take it you want to see him again?”
“Of course!”
“Did he say anything about getting together again?”
“He said he’ll call or text me.”
Famous last words from a lot of men. But I keep my mouth shut. Amy prattles on about JD, musing where they might go on an official date and what she might wear.
When we get back to our place, I hop on my computer and look up reflexology.
So sexual reflexology is a thing, and a foot rub isn’t the only way to influence the sex organs. I spend way too much time reading up about acupressure and traditional Chinese medicine, the basis for the practice of reflexology. By the time I make it to bed, I’m hot and bothered. I want the orgasm I missed out on earlier, and when I hear Amy has fallen asleep, I sneak my hand beneath the covers.
The climax from masturbating doesn’t feel as intense as the one I could have had, and I’m only partially satisfied.
Damn Darren Lee.
