Talking About Sex.... Vicki Lewis Thompson
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“While you’re pouring the wine, I’ll change into something more comfortable.”
He almost dropped the bottle. He’d never dreamed she’d be this cooperative. “Uh, sure. That would be terrific.” Wow. This was turning out to be the best move he’d ever made. Breaking and entering had its advantages, after all.
After she left, he poured wine in both goblets and sat on her sofa wondering what more comfortable meant to her. Ads for Victoria’s Secret swam through his fevered brain and he shoved his hand into his pocket to make sure the condoms were still in there.
If he didn’t want to get an erection while he was waiting for her, he’d better concentrate on something neutral, like furniture. Earlier he’d prowled around her apartment and discovered a Southwestern theme throughout, with old pots and Native artifacts scattered everywhere.
Her coffee table and end tables were trimmed with saguaro cactus ribs, and she’d hung several small Navajo rugs on the walls. The turquoise sofa he was sitting on was the single spot of color in a room dominated by earth tones.
He wasn’t particularly surprised. Her parents’ house looked like this, and she’d told him how much she liked being immersed in Southwestern culture. He could relate. Now that he was able to afford the trappings, so did he.
But he still couldn’t understand why she’d fought so hard to keep KRZE’s adobe house from falling to the wrecking ball. Personally he couldn’t see the point. By the time KRZE had finished modifying the place for its purposes, the place had lost whatever historic value it once might have had.
There were plenty of other structures like it, even a few with actual historic significance. He could think of several that would be ideal for KRZE’s new location and weren’t in danger of being bulldozed any time soon.
Maybe in the course of getting close to her—very close—he’d learn what made her such a passionate opponent of his project. It wasn’t the main motivation for his decision to break into her apartment. His hormones were mostly in charge on that one. But as a side benefit, it wasn’t bad.
And here came Katie wearing something filmy and black. He was such a sucker for black, especially on a blonde like Katie. The outfit consisted of billowy harem pants that rode low on her hips and gave him a view of a black thong underneath, plus a low-cut black bra and a wispy jacket that might as well not have been there for all it covered up.
He began to sweat. As much as he wanted her, sitting here casually sipping wine would be torture. But then, maybe that was the idea. She had said she’d make him beg. He was ready to start with the begging ASAP.
Choosing a spot on the opposite end of the sofa, she settled into the plump turquoise cushions.
He picked up both wine goblets and reached over to hand her one. “Here’s to renewing old acquaintances.”
She raised her glass in his direction. “To settling old scores.”
He blinked. Maybe she wasn’t going to be as cooperative as he thought. “You’re still upset about that prom-night thing, aren’t you?”
She eyed him over the rim of her wineglass as she drank. Then she lowered her goblet. “I chose you to be my first. I was curious and excited and eager…but you didn’t wanna. How do you suppose that made me feel?”
“Not good, but I had my reasons. I didn’t—”
“Reasons you weren’t able to share with a heartbroken girl, unfortunately. You’ll be happy to know I found another candidate, though.”
Now there was an unwelcome conversational thread. “I’d rather not hear about it, if you don’t mind.” He moved a little closer to her. Talking about her other lovers wouldn’t help get this seduction under way.
“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.” She took another swallow of her wine. “But I think I need to talk about it.”
“Why?”
“You’re the only person in the world I ever thought of telling, and here you are, sitting in my living room. Of course, you don’t have to stay and listen. You could always leave.” She lifted her eyebrows.
“I’m not leaving.” If she wanted him to suffer a little, he’d suffer. The payoff would be more than worth it.
“It was during my freshman year at the U of A. He was a jock, a basically nice guy but sort of clumsy. Still, he got the job done, and presto, I was officially a nonvirgin. You see, I wanted sexual knowledge.” She paused. “I would rather have gained that knowledge with you,” she added softly.
“Damn it, Katie, I know that! But I didn’t want it to happen in the back of a car. You deserved more.”
“So what do you think of an upstairs bedroom in a frat house with a party going on down below?”
Jess closed his eyes as if that would block out the image of Katie with some idiot college kid who didn’t know what a treasure he had. Closing his eyes only seemed to make the picture more vivid, so he opened them again. “Obviously I screwed up and I’m sorry. I should have found a way to pay for a nice hotel.”
“Were you a virgin, too?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I was. Clueless and scared I wouldn’t make it good for you.”
She cradled her goblet in both hands. “I’m assuming you’re not a virgin anymore.”
“No.” He thought of his first time, which hadn’t been particularly memorable either. Since then, he’d taken several women to bed and each time he’d tried to convince himself he was falling in love. It had never happened.
“I’m glad you’re not a virgin. I wouldn’t want to shock you.”
He grew uneasy. After all, she did have that radio talk show. Last night she’d seemed like the woman he remembered, soft and eager for his kiss. But tonight she’d morphed into someone more experienced and sure of herself. She’d become Billboard Katie.
For all he knew, in the past thirteen years she’d turned into a wild thing who’d had more lovers than he’d had. Once upon a time they’d been equally green, equally ignorant of the nuances. Since then, she might have outstripped him.
“Changed your mind, Jess?” Her blue eyes issued a challenge.
He looked at her in that filmy black number and knew he’d never be able to live with himself if he walked away from this chance. He’d be a damned coward if he allowed himself to be intimidated and left now. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”
“I’m glad.” She finished her wine and held out her glass for more. “Because I’m looking forward to this.”
His hand was unsteady, but he managed to pour her wine without spilling any on her turquoise sofa. “So am I.” He resisted the urge to top off his own glass. He could use the Dutch courage, but more wine might dull his senses. Dulled senses wouldn’t serve him well in the hours ahead. He had to stay sharp.
“So how did you happen to hear my show last night?”
He wasn’t