and nephews were born, Jake had grown tired of the way his sisters shielded their children from him. So he’d faded away.
I’d never really thought about how hard that must have been, leaving family and friends like that. Yet I couldn’t imagine Derek and Jake happy had they not been true to themselves.
“You think it will take a whole week, huh?”
“Look,” Jake said, “here’s what I think you should do.” He reached behind him to the kitchen counter, where I kept a pad of paper and pens near my cell-phone charger. “Ask your inner tigress to name the three most daring things she would like to try. Three things that she’s almost too embarrassed to even tell you about. Write them down, one to each piece of paper. Put them in an envelope and slip them under our door. We’ll make it happen for you.”
I could only sit there and blink. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.
“Think about it,” Derek said. He and Jake kissed my cheeks and headed out the door.
I refused to think about it. I cleaned my apartment. No, I scoured my apartment. I went for a walk. Then I tried jogging. Then I rented a half-dozen movies. Two weeks passed, and I was restless, frustrated, embarrassed.
Then the dreams started. Very, very sexy dreams. I was tied up and naked and hands roamed my body. I was bent over a chair while being pounded by a giant cock. Mouths sucked on my nipples. Streams of cum shot across my chest.
For three nights in a row, I woke up hot, wet, sweating, needing. Pushing myself over the edge wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
At three-thirty on a Wednesday morning, I sat at my kitchen table and picked up the pen and pad of paper with shaking hands.
Images of my dreams flashed through my mind. Even though I sat alone in my kitchen, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. A good girl didn’t have thoughts like this. A good girl didn’t sit at her kitchen table, thinking about what kinds of crazy sex she secretly dreamed of having with people she didn’t even know.
What the hell is the matter with me? I thought. I’m just writing down thoughts. I don’t even have to show them to anyone. I can have fantasies. I can write them down.
I held my pen over the paper, poised to write.
It was four-fifteen, and I still hadn’t written a single word.
When did I become such a coward?
Or is the problem that I couldn’t narrow my list down to three? I giggled. Gee, Jake, I could picture myself saying, I hope you don’t mind that I gave you thirty-five different pieces of paper. I hope you have that many friends.
Just write something, I said to myself. Anything. The first thing that comes to your mind.
I took a deep breath and wrote in the most honest tone I could muster:
I want to be tied up, blindfolded and fucked by men I don’t know and will never see.
My heart raced so hard I could feel the pulse in my throat. With a shaky hand, I reached for a second piece of paper from the pad.
I want to taste pussy.
I couldn’t believe I wrote that. I was so hot and so wet just thinking about it. I reached for a third piece of paper and thought about what my very last sexual fantasy might be.
I want two men at once. I want to ride a big cock while another cock is riding my ass.
I threw the pen on the table and jumped out of the chair. Tears of embarrassment streamed down my face, but I was so hot, so turned on, that I lay down on my living room floor and fingered myself into three orgasms before I was calm enough to sleep.
I slipped the envelope under Jake and Derek’s door, hoping no one saw me do it. During the entire six-mile drive to work, which took a solid forty-three minutes in Los Angeles traffic, emotions tumbled around in my head. I couldn’t believe I had actually written down three fantasies. I couldn’t believe I’d shared them with Jake and Derek. God, what were they going to think when they saw them? What were they going to do? What would my landlord think when a bunch of random people started visiting my apartment, and the oh-so-obvious sounds of wild sex could be heard through the walls?
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