Page 42 of Business or Pleasure

I smirk at him as I move over to the bed. “Only because you’re sleeping with the teacher.” He sits down next to me, triangling an ankle on his knee. Then he laces his fingers together, the perfect image of an adult man waiting for sexual enlightenment. If he’s nervous, he’s great at hiding it. The next time I enter into an educational sex pact, I’m not doing it with an actor. Or at least, a much less talented actor.

Because that’s one thing I’ve learned, watching The Nocturnals and Lucky Us and even his Hallmark Christmas movie.

Finnegan Walsh is a good actor.

It’s the way he’s aware of his scene partners, his body language attuned to everyone in the room. The subtleties of his expression, how he’s able to convey joy or sadness or fear in a single tilt of his head or curve of his brows. And his eyes, those lovely hazel eyes the show hid behind glasses, always soft and sweet and inquisitive. I can see it now, how so many viewers fell for Hux.

“Before we go any further,” I say. “I think we should talk about the clitoris.”

Finn blushes. “Yeah, uh... that seems to be something of a problem area for me.”

“You’re not alone.” I keep my tone light, wanting him to feel like this is a safe space to talk. To ask questions. Because it’s kind of thrilling, getting to explain this to him, especially because of the way he listens. In any other circumstance, I’d be stumbling over my words, but something about his presence makes this feel much more comfortable than it has any right to be.

I take my laptop from my bag, where I already have a few diagrams waiting. In my spare time, I’ve been doing some of my own research—mostly refreshers, with some new information here and there. “The visible part of the clitoris is at the top of the vulva, right where the inner labia meet. There’s a fold of skin that protects it, called the clitoral hood, which retracts to expose more of it when someone is aroused. But most of the clitoris is actually internal.” I point this out on one of the diagrams. “And it’s an amazing little piece of anatomy. It’s the only part of the body meant solely for pleasure.”

A nod as Finn takes this all in, eyes on the diagrams.

As a teenager dreaming of my first sexual experiences, I imagined someone would touch me and then—magic. But the gap between the expectation and reality can be vast. My first few partners were just as clueless as I was, and I wasn’t sure yet how to vocalize what I wanted. How to show them.

I never quite pictured what I’m doing now, with Finn, but the longer we sit here, the more confident I feel.

“This might be shocking, given how society has historically treated women’s bodies, but most of the research into women’s pleasure is fairly recent,” I say. “Like... I had no idea that when blood rushes to the clitoris and it swells during arousal, it essentially gets erect.”

“Sounds familiar,” he says with a laugh, and I can’t help joining in. It must be because he’s a redhead that his cheeks are still stained pink.

“All of this okay so far?” I ask, and he flashes me a thumbs-up.

“Oh, I’m just incapable of discussing anything remotely sexy without blushing,” he says. “You wouldn’t believe how much makeup they had to put on me during my scenes with Meg.”

That makes me blush, too, thinking about their sex scene. I’m not there yet in the show, but it was part of one of those Mexley compilations, fade-to-black but beautifully shot, in a tent in the woods when the two of them were on a camping trip, tracking down a centaur. Flashes of her dark hair, his flaming auburn, glimpses of her upper thigh and the freckles on his stomach.

I force myself to think about something less sexy before realizing I’m literally giving him a lecture on the clitoris, a fact that makes me bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from dissolving into laughter.

“Because of where the clit is located, it’s difficult to come just from penetration,” I continue. “It’s not inside the vagina, which is why most people with clitorises need some other form of stimulation.”

He waits several long moments before he speaks again. “I’m just thinking of every sex scene I’ve ever watched that makes it seem like the complete opposite.”

“And that would be a little something called the male gaze.” I move my finger along the screen. “You want to take your time. Maybe you don’t go for the clit right away. Start with one finger and vary your technique: you can stroke slow circles around it, lightly tap it, rub it from side to side. You can gradually go faster depending on what reaction you’re getting. Check in with her, see how she’s feeling. Then you could add another finger. Or your mouth.”

“That’s what you like?”

“I love being teased,” I admit, crossing my legs a little tighter.

A swallow. “Noted.”

“And lube almost always makes it better. Everyone is going to be different, but usually, you want to be gentle. It’s really sensitive, and sometimes direct stimulation can be a bit too intense.” He presses his lips together, a muscle twitching in his jaw. My own breaths are coming faster, sharper, especially when I realize the way I’ve been caressing my laptop screen. “It doesn’t have to be a mad dash for the finish line. I’ve been in some situations where the guy comes, and then he’s just done for the night. Even when I’m not there yet.”

“Jesus. Now I’m not entirely sure why I was so focused on something that would make the whole thing shorter.” He readjusts on the bed, and it’s only then that I realize our knees have been touching. “She should come first, then,” he says. “Before we even have sex.”

“Obviously, I’m on board with that. But I have a feeling when you say ‘sex,’ what you really mean is penetration.” I wave a hand around the room. “Everything we do in here—all of it is sex, at least to me. There shouldn’t be just one definition of it, and penetration shouldn’t always be the endgame.”

“No, you’re right. That makes sense,” he says. “So you don’t enjoy it at all? Uh... penetration?” He runs a sheepish hand down his face. “Just going to put it out there, that’s the most times I’ve heard that word in the course of a single conversation.”

I bite back a smile. “I do, but it’s not really the main event for me, the way it might be for you. Or the way I’m guessing it’s been in the past.” He gives me a guilty look. “It’s not like how it is in porn, although there’s some great feminist porn I’d be happy to show you. Or honestly, even in movies and TV. You can’t just mindlessly thrust until both people come, and yet nearly everything you watch is trying its damnedest to convince you otherwise. There’s more finesse to it.”

“Not that I take all my sexual cues from porn, I just... well, you see it at a ripe-enough age, and some of it sticks with you. That’s probably where my dirty talk came from, too.” Then he looks at me with a new vulnerability. “What if I do all of this, and I still can’t get her there?”

“That could very well happen.”

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