Page 9 of Power Play

“What thehellis a sex coach?”

“Someone who helps you sort through hesitations you might have with intimacy or sexual-related things. My friend from college is a licensed one. She works with couples and individuals all the time.”

“There’s a job for that?” Emmy asks.

“There’s a job for everything these days,” Maven says.

“She comes up with a plan for you. Technique and homework so you can practice,” Lexi tells us.

“Homework?” I repeat. “I’m supposed to sleep with random men for, what? Science?”

“Isn’t that what being single is about? Doing what you want with who you want?” Lexi tosses her dark brown hair over her shoulder and shrugs. “It’s sexual freedom and exploration. Sounds fun to me.”

“I appreciate the sex positivity and I’m glad there’s someone out there who can help with that sort of thing, but it’s way too intimidating to talk to a professional about my lack of experience. I don’t know how I’m going to tell a man I’m seeing my ex-husband only made me come five times throughout the course of our ten-plus year relationship. It would only prove how clueless I am in the bedroom, and who wants to sleep with someone who’s clueless?”

“We’re going to need some more alcohol.” Lexi tops off my glass with fresh wine. “Taking some time to learn what you may or may not like in bed would be a good starting point. The internet can be helpful. There are articles out there so you don’t have to talk to anyone if it makes you uncomfortable. And, if we’re being honest, I’ve learned a lot about myself from romance books.” She blushes at this, and I’m reminded how much I love my friends and their vulnerability. “I’ve realized I’m into things I thought I might not like by reading about them and learning through fictional characters. It sounds silly, but this is the happiest I’ve been sexually.”

I laugh and take another sip of my drink. “I’m envious of your ability to go up to a man and get what you want. You walked up to that guy at the bar last weekend like it was nothing and ended up going home with him. I want to be able to do that.”

Lexi’s always been that way; confident in her sexuality. Able to voice what she wants and what she doesn’t. She’s slept with plenty of men, arguing that if they’re allowed to go around and fuck anything that moves for their pleasure, she should be able to do the same.

“You have to work up to it, sweetie. You’re not comfortable with it yet because you’ve never done it. It takes time and that’s okay,” she says.

“You can always ask us,” Maven adds. “I’ll tell you everything Dallas and I do in the bedroom so you can consider if you might like it too.”

Dallas Lansfield is Maven’s husband and the greatest kicker to ever play in the NFL.

They had a whirlwind romance and fell in love while she was a nanny for his—now their—daughter, June. It was impossible for them to stay away from each other, and they’re still inseparable.

Sometimes when I watch the two of them together—and Maverick and Emmy—there’s this aching sting of jealousy in my chest. Pressure behind my lungs, not because I’m attracted to their partners, but because my previous relationship never looked like theirs, even on our best days.

The further removed I get from my divorce, the more upset I am. I’m angry and resentful. For someone who’s always been a lover, not a fighter, the person who gives third and fourth chances when she shouldn’t have given a second, it’sexhaustingto despise someone like I despise Steven.

There’s so much grief over wasted time. So much disappointment from years spent with a man who never looked at me the way my friends’ partners look at them: like they hang the moon. Like they’re grateful to even breathe the same air as them.

I wonder if I’m too late to ever have that again.

I wonder if there’s still time for me to find my new happily ever after.

My entire previous relationship was spent being put in second place to his work. To his company and the investors who were helping him build a name for himself in a cutthroat tech industry. I was behind his money and his titles and his professional achievements.

And behind his twenty-three-year-old secretary, Julia, who he spent all his free time with and found far more interesting than me.

It must be nice to be someone’s top priority. The object of all of their attention and everything they’ve ever dreamed about.

What would that be like?

“Sometimes I make Maverick fuck me while he wears my jersey so he knows who he belongs to,” Emmy says, pulling me back to the present and shoving the past aside.

“As if the tattoo on his chest that saysEmmy’s Pretty Boydoesn’t tell the whole world he’s happily taken,” Maven teases. “I’ve had to ask him to put his shirt on for official photos because he likes to walk around bare-chested and show it off.”

Emmy sighs and twirls a strand of red hair around her finger. “I love that man.”

“You all were friends with benefits first, right?” Lexi asks, and Emmy nods. “What if you tried something like that, Piper? A sexual relationship where you hook up and experiment with the same person.”

“Where do I find him?” I ask. “Craigslist?”

“Only if you want to get murdered.” She clicks her tongue and gives me a look like she’s hoping I’m joking. “The dating apps are a great place to find a fuck buddy. If you putnot looking for anything seriousin your Tinder bio, men would flock to you.”

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