they say about the size of a man’s feet.”
“Everything isn’t about size, Tina. Or sex.”
“Prove it,” she said, then glanced at her watch. “Where’s Ross? I want to ask him about the Emerson campaign.”
“He was finishing the sketches for the beer company pitch.” Ross was a graphic artist who worked as an art director at Siegel and Sampson Marketing, the ad agency where Kara was an account manager and Tina a copywriter. He joined them for a drink most Upside nights and was due any minute. He was also Kara’s best male friend.
“You should take lessons from Ross and me and have sex for sex’s sake,” Tina continued, “instead of wearing your heart on your parts.”
“You have such a way with words,” Kara said. “And that’s not fair. I try to take it slow, but when the guy seems right, I can’t help but think ahead. I don’t want to invest emotional energy in something that’s going nowhere.”
Kara lived by her goals—in every aspect of her life. Added to that was her parents’ divorce when she was sixteen. She’d concluded her mother had married the wrong man and the lesson seemed clear—choose men with care…and with your future in mind.
“You’re either picking the wrong men or rushing the right ones,” Tina concluded, her eyes on Tom, who was bending to get something from a low shelf. “What a great butt,” she mused wistfully. “The quiet ones are deep, you know. And Tom’s so alert. Think of all that attention in bed. Mmm-mmm-mmm.” She drummed her highly decorated nails on the bar.
“Could we focus on my problem here?” Kara said.
“Oh, right.” Tina shook herself, then turned her big eyes on Kara, crossing her curvy legs with a quick movement. “Sorry. Talking about sex gets me thinking about sex. Like looking in a bakery window discussing the éclairs. You gotta have one.”
“I may choose the wrong men,” Kara said, “but at least I choose. Don’t you ever want to settle down?”
“Someday, maybe. Maybe not. I see no point in gluing myself to a guy. When he rips away, you’re a blob of jelly at his feet. I’m not doing that.”
“Why are you so sure he’ll rip away?”
“Because that’s how it works. I tried clinging once. In high school I fell hard and it was a disaster.”
“High school is Hurt Central.”
“It’s a proving ground. Lessons for life.” Tina frowned. The topic seemed to bother her. “But that’s me. Let’s get back to you.” Tina tapped her lip. “Okay. Without a man, you get horny, right? Then handle your horniness. Buy a vibrator. When you itch, you scratch. Simple.”
Kara shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way with me. I need another person for my, um, equipment, to work. I never know where the guy’s going to touch me next, so it’s always a surprise. When it’s just me, it’s boring.”
“You’re missing out on a good time,” Tina said. “It’s the electronics age, baby.” She pretended to smoke a cigar and wiggle her brows à la Groucho Marx. “At least check out that naughty lingerie store by the doughnut shop.”
“I don’t think a gadget’s the answer.”
“So maybe it’s lack of experience. How many men have you slept with, anyway?”
“Not that many,” she admitted. There’d been two relationships in college, and in the eight years since, just four men, including the three Tina had mentioned. Kara had dated other men, but not long enough for sex to happen…and complicate things.
She’d chosen stable men with relationship potential, but somehow they weren’t quite ready or they had commitment issues or mother issues or just plain issues. “I tried to go slow—I waited six months this time—but I just got too…”
“Itchy?”
“Yeah. And Scott was there and he seemed so perfect.” He was the attorney for one of their clients.
“He only seemed perfect. You were itchy when you met him. That’s like going to a grocery store when you’re hungry. You bring home all kinds of nasty things you’d normally never look at twice.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Kara said. “So what should I do about it?”
“Change your thinking,” Tina said. “Having sex simply means two people care enough about each other to share physical pleasure. Period. Sex is a healthy release, not an engagement party.”
Tina made sense. Kara wanted to be sexually liberated, but in her heart of hearts, she was a traditionalist. You got close to someone, had sex, fell in love and got married—or at least moved in together—in quick order. “But I want it to be more than that.”
“When you’re ready, it can mean happily ever after, I guess. But you’re not ready, Kara. You just think you should be. Do you even miss Scott?”
“Not exactly.” Especially not sexually. He liked things in a certain order and almost timed—five minutes of kissing, five minutes of breast and penis work, two minutes of thrusting, then bingo. She wasn’t exactly a tigress in bed and she preferred the man to take the lead, but she’d tried different things—climbing on top, doing a little striptease—and Scott seemed more annoyed than titillated, so she figured she wasn’t doing it right. She wasn’t that experienced in the variety department…and, okay, maybe a little inhibited.
Tina looked past Kara’s shoulder. “Here comes Tom with our drinks. I think he and I, rubbed together, would make nice sparks. Let me show you how it’s done.”
Tom set their drinks on napkins and smoothly slid them forward. “Need anything else?”
“Funny you should ask,” Tina said, leaning forward, deepening her cleavage. “I was wondering what you do after work. For fun, I mean.”
“Usually I go home and go to bed.”
“Sounds interesting. Alone?”
He gave her that mysterious smile. Kara could see his appeal. He was clean-cut and gently handsome with a broad, solid frame.
“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Tina said.
He shrugged. “If you mean what do I do on my days off, I like quiet things.”
“Me, too,” Tina said, which was a lie, Kara knew.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, what quiet things are we talking about?” Tina stirred her drink very slowly, her eyes glued to Tom.
“For me, it’s sailing. I have a small boat I take to the lake.”
“Sounds nice. Water and waves and rocking.” She lifted a straw full of drink and let it slide into the side of her mouth, a gesture just this side of suggestive. “I always wanted to learn to sail.”
He shook his head. “Your nails are too nice.” He patted her hand, then moved away, leaving Tina open-mouthed,
