Page 69 of Romance Languages

“Jules, it’s okay. We don’t have to have sex today, or tomorrow, or the day after that. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m kind of ready, but not completely ready. Does that make sense?”

He tipped his head to the side.

“Yeah,” he answered, though his face said the opposite. “Honestly, I was kinda nervous, too. We’re here, finally. It’s game seven of the World Series. I want this to be a good time for you. I don’t want this to be one of those games where it’s a blowout right away, and you wind up turning off the TV in the sixth inning because the other team can never catch up.”

To my credit, I got what he was saying. I’d gotten roped into watching enough baseball games over my lifetime to understand the boredom that came with a one-sided game.

I appreciated that he wanted this to be a great night for me, yet it only added to the pressure. I wanted him to have a good time, too. Well, as much as a straight guy could enjoy fucking a man.

He licked his lips, a thought percolating in his mind.

“What?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“You seem like you were about to say something.”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his head. “You know, if we want to make this a true-to-life sexual journey, there’s one step we could do first. We could dry hump.”

I broke out into a laugh. At least Seamus hadn’t lost his sense of humor during this weird moment.

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“Most couples who’ve done the deed have dry humped first. It’s like a dress rehearsal.”

What was more surprising? That Seamus suggested frotting or that he used a theater reference?

“It usually happens when people are making out, but we don’t have to do that.”

Because of myPretty Womanrule. That rule was the rickety dam holding me back from completely falling in love with my straight friend.

“I thought dry humping was for awkward teens who didn’t know what the hell they were doing.”

“So is losing your virginity.” Touché. “Awkwardness is the key ingredient for your first time.”

There’d been little awkwardness in our sexual encounters thus far. Once we got into it, we really got into it, and everything flowed naturally.

I laughed some more. I couldn’t help it. I was an educated, thirty-something young professional who was about to dry hump.

“I promise you won’t hate it,” he said.

“Maybe we’ll dry hump so hard we’ll rip a hole in our pants and inevitably have sex.”

“Crazier things have happened.” Seamus leaned on his arm and winked at me. “Are you ready for me to dry hump the fuck out of you?”

“Can we call it frottage? It’s classier.”

“Is that the scientific name for it?”

“Better. It’s the French name for it.”

“Ooooh. Then the Spanish name must be el frottage.”

“The Spanish are way too sensual to dry hump,” I said.

---