Page 43 of This Is Who I Am

Estelle nods. “Yes, among other things.”

“Are you saying I should be careful what I wish for.”

“I don’t know, Cass.” Something slowly shifts in the air. “What do you wish for?”

“What Ireallywish for—” I owe her this degree of honesty—at least in this we can give and receive equally. “Is for my body to be able to experience pleasure again.”

Estelle nods as though she completely understands, whereas, if I’ve understood correctly, she’s never had an orgasm in her life.

“If my face looks funny, it’s because I’m biting my tongue,” she says.

“What do you mean?” Her face is all broody gaze and lips I want to kiss for days. “Why?” Did I put my foot in it? It’s highly likely in a conversation like this.

“I want to say something that I perhaps shouldn’t.”

“Please, don’t let me stop you.” My curiosity could not be more piqued.

“This is going to sound a bit out there, but I could… help you with your, um, pleasure.” She briefly sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ironically, I’m pretty good at that, because I don’t focus on myself.”

I need to keep my jaw from slacking. This is next-level flirting. This is wooing me into bed. Or am I reading this all wrong? Jesus. From the get-go, it’s been like this.

“That does sound a bit out there.” I have to push the words past the dryness in my throat because this isn’t just confusing, it’s also incredibly arousing.

“It’s definitely something we could do together.” She circles her fingertip along the rim of her wineglass. What happened to the woman who, minutes earlier, sitting in that same spot, exclaimed that she could take or leave sex?

“Estelle,” I say on a sigh, “your signals are so mixed, I fear I might lose my mind.”

“I know.” She exhales. “But it’s a weakness of mine to… want to awaken something inside a beautiful woman I have a crush on.”

I take it the woman she’s referring to is me. “But what do you get out of it? Does it give you pleasure? Do you experience any… sexual desire?”

“Pleasure, yes, but not the same kind of pleasure you would get from it. It’s different for me. But I do get a kick out of making a woman come, although, for me, it’s not sexual.”

“Oh, boy.”

“But as I said, it’s not a must,” she has the audacity to remind me.

“It’s not?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m attracted to and confused by you in equal measure,” I say. “And I thought this was going to be simple. No sex. No complications.”

“It can be.”

“Not really. Not after what you’ve just said…”

“Because you’re curious now?” Her lips tilt into a grin.

“Oh, yeah.”

“That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But… even though I’m curious, I’m not ready for…” I shake my head. “I can’t, um, yet.” I may be attracted to Estelle—and the brazen hope in her words—but I’m still a woman in the middle of menopause who gained twenty pounds in the past few years with a body that always seems to want to do the opposite of what I want it to.

“Do I look like I’m in any kind of rush?” She lets her head fall sideways onto her outstretched arm. “Let’s take it slow.”

“Maybe we can start with a simple sleepover,” I say, even though I’m not at all sure about sharing my bed with another human—August is more than enough.

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