Page 11 of Grace

I nodded, understanding her point.

Corinne huffed, “Huhm!” then rolled her eyes.

The table got quiet and I reached for the menu. Toya did the same.

“Well, let’s explore this,” Peach offered softly, sporting a cheap grin. She was never short of an insightful point, and I was game. “What if our expectations and practices aren’t conducive to great sex?”

“What do you mean?” Frenchie asked.

Peach planted her elbows on the table, chin resting on her interlaced fingers. “Sex is common; great sex isn’t a guarantee. It takes several elements to almost guarantee good sex, but let’s go with just the three big ones: chemistry, trust, and communication.” She counted off on her fingers. “Chemistry is iffy. You can either have it instantly without manipulation or grow into it. But trust and communication, for sure, take time. Our generation has no time to invest in those two elements. We’re the microwave generation, quite clearly. We want instant gratification, and from what you ladies are explaining, it’s a fleeing satisfaction.”

Toya asked, “So, what’s the solution?”

Peach shrugged. “Take your time. Get to know each other before jumping into a physical relationship.”

“So, no fucking, Peach?” Shizu asked incredulously.

Peach’s smile was regretful and gentle at the same damn time. I knew she wasn’t comfortable discussing conservative topics publicly. She wasn’t a prude, just cautious and pragmatic.

I lifted my glass. “To putting the kitty on reserve,” I offered in a toast.

Hesitantly, Shizu joined me, her naturally sloe eyes even more narrow as she peered between me and the rest of the ladies at the table.

“Nah.” Corinne went for her drink. “Hell no. I ain’t preserving shit.”

Frenchie snickered and Toya shook her head, exposing all her front teeth. When Shizu retracted her drink in the air, I shrugged, not caring at all about being alone. Then Frenchie laughed harder, understanding my stubborn sentiment.

“Who is he eye-fucking?” Toya murmured, head craned to look over her shoulder.

Corinne followed. “Who?”

That’s when the whole table was on alert trying to find the subject in question.

“Ohhh!” Shizu sang. “We know him.”

“Shit, wedo!” Corinne declared.

They both looked my way. That caused me to search myself. Across several tables in the restaurant, on the other side of a five-foot wall topped by potted plants, Jas sat at a round booth with three other men. None looked familiar: one white, another Black, and the other looked mixed between Black and Asian. And, indeed, Jas was looking my way unapologetically. He raised his glass filled with a clear liquid I knew was water then nodded, I was sure, to me.

My nipples stung out of nowhere and my spine weakened. Nervously, I went for my drink, trying hard as hell to appear unbothered.

“Who’s he over there with?” Corinne asked in a whisper as though she could be heard by Jas. “What business does he have here with them?”

“What makes you ask that?” Shizu wondered out loud.

It caught my attention, too.

“You saw him that night at the club with his goons,” Corinne scoffed. “That nigga selling that shit by the kilo.”

Toya and Frenchie snickered.

“Oh, shit!” Shizu croaked, looking back over to Jas. “You think so?”

“I don’t care what he’s selling,” Toya announced. “That nigga’s giving off big dick energy. I just know he’s packing. He’s still staring over here. That confidence only comes from long, fat johns.”

“Sell what you wanna sell,” Frenchie added. “Justslinggood dick!”

“Selling…slanging. That’s what them niggas do!” Corinne hooted and the girls followed.

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