Page 13 of Two Sticky Nuts

“So soon?”

“Yeah, well, apparently you were right. He’s a ladies’ man, and half the women at the club last night were his ladies. I got the impression he wanted to add me to his harem for a night.”

“Ew. Gang bang?” Don’t get me wrong. I like sex. Correction. I like hot sex. But I’m just not into the group thing. Nor the public thing, swinger thing, or pain thing. To me, the best sex is with one man I find incredibly attractive and trust. Rough, soft, toys, and no toys are all good, but sex has to be in a situation where I feel comfortable. Not that I haven’t had a one-night stand just for the sake of getting off or that I haven’t experimented a little—I mean, there was that time in college—but I wouldn’t call any of that great or hot sex. It was…just sex.

I guess, at the end of the day, I feel like intimacy should be exactly that: intimate. Private.

“I think he was definitely angling for the orgy,” Sofie says. “But the moment I asked if some of his hot friends would be joining in—because, oh Christ, does he have hot friends—Romeo freaked out.” Sofie shakes her head stoically. “I guess he’s not into fucking his friends.”

“Oh, no.” I gasp mockingly, covering my mouth. “What sort of man is he? Everyone knows a true friendship means fucking each other in giant orgies. Participation points are everything. Just like us, right?” I joke. Truthfully, I get that some women are into women, but as far as I’m concerned, one vagina in my life is more than enough. It’s a very high-maintenance relationship as is. I can’t imagine trying to deal with two vaginas. Or three! Madness.

The same goes for men who have more than one woman in their lives. What would possibly possess anyone to sign up for so much work? Keeping vaginas satisfied isn’t easy.

And let’s not forget how expensive they are.Like a rare exotic pet. You must buy them pretty clothes with proper ventilation and costly monthly gear. On top of that, there are grooming appointments and professional monitoring.

Bottom line, vaginas aren’t cheap and take up a lot of time. Which is why I only focus on the essentials when it comes to mine: the occasional clippy-clip, cotton undies, and condoms one hundred percent of the time, no matter how long I’ve been with a guy. No foreign bacteria. My vagina must be content at all times, and we must be in harmony.No one gets between us.

Yes, I mean that figuratively because, clearly, I’ve had sex, and that requires…never mind.

“Blah.” She makes a sour face. “I’ve seen your pussy. It looks like an orange tumbleweed in a bad Western. So not my thing.”

“Holy shit, girl. Did you just bush-shame me?”

She nods with puckered lips, attempting not to crack up. “Yes. I did. No one should have a bush that big.”

“Oh, I’ll have you know that the bush is back. Men like to know they’re with a woman, not a Barbie doll.”

Sofie whips the towel off her body, exposing her full nakedness, including her hairless cooter. “Does this look like a nipple-less, crotchless piece of plastic?” She points to a rash on her inner thigh. “Just check out this stubble burn Romeo gave me. Barbies don’t have those.”

“Ohmygod!” I turn my head. “Put that shit away, you damned nudist sex fiend!”

She laughs. “Yeah, that’s right, Mila. Never go up against me in the one-up-womanship game. Sofie always wins.”

“Fuck off.” I laugh. “And go put some cream on your Barbie pussy. You’re so gross.”

She struts off to the bathroom. “And you’re jealous.”

“Sometimes, but not of your battered bald eagle.”Poor thing has a rough life.“As soon as we get home, I’m scheduling PTSD therapy for it.”

That evening, I keep hoping to bump into Carter during dinner, but no luck. Sofie and I still have a good time, taking in the dinner show of Jamaican drummers. Afterwards, we both hit the hay because I have another early start with Carter in the morning.

I can feel it. Tomorrow’s going to be the day. We’re going to kiss. Maybe go back to his room. I’ll finally get to check out his real coconuts.

I’m settling into bed and setting the alarm on my phone when a text rolls in. It’s Carter.

Carter:Hey, have to cancel for tomorrow. My film’s backer is pulling out. Flying out early to meet with him.

My heart sinks. No… He can’t leave.

Me:That’s terrible news. I’m so sorry.

I hit send and contemplate adding something about seeing him stateside, but he beats me to it.

Carter:Can I call you in a few weeks? Maybe we can arrange to meet up sometime.

“Yes!” My heart does a flip. He wants to see me again. The downside is there’s no definite date.

Me:I’d like that.

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