Page 10 of Stepping Up to the Plate

“Oh, no ma’am. We are talking about this. I cannot let this injustice stand. We are getting you laid ASAP.”

“I am not going home with some random guy we meet at a bar tonight. I can’t handle that stress or potential rejection right now.”

“Fine,” she sighs, then perks up. “What if I knew a way you could have sex with someone who would for sure not turn you down?”

“I’m not hiring a hooker,” I deadpan.

“Not a hooker, babe. There is a club here that offers a service for finding sexually compatible people and getting them together. It's all between consenting adults and no money exchanges hands – except the membership fee.”

“I don’t want to have sex in some shady nightclub.”

“Not a nightclub, a sex club. And it’s not shady, it's super classy. You fill out a profile and they find someone who matches your preferences. Everyone who is approved has been vetted. I signed up a few weeks ago but haven’t been yet.”

“Tiff, you have guys hanging all over you. Why do you need to go to a club for sex?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a partner who already knows what you want. That way, you don’t have to go through all the pesky guesswork and pretend you don’t want him to spank your ass and call you his ‘naughty girl.’ Plus, there are a few things I enjoy that aren’t exactly one-night stand or first date material like—”

I hold my hand up to stop her. “I don’t need to know all that, and I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Come on, Bunny. It’s perfect. It’s a sure-fire way to rip off the Band-Aid with someone who won’t reject you and knows exactly what your boundaries are. It’s ideal for a novice!”

“A novice, really?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a lot of sexcapades you never told me during between homecoming and freshman spring semester when you met Phil?”

“No…”

“Exactly,” she exclaims. “You need someone who knows how to get you off and how to keep you comfortable. I’ll help you complete your profile and make sure you get the match you need.”

She’s staring at me with big blue puppy dog eyes. It’s hard to say no when I know she’s trying to help me.

“Fine,” I concede. And that’s how later that night I end up huddled in bed with Tiffany answering an exceedingly thorough questionnaire about my sexual preferences.

“I don’t even know what some of this stuff is,” I say.

“Like what?”

“Like water spots. Do they mean jet skis?”

“They mean being peed on,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Why do you know that?”

She smirks at me before answering, “I’ve been with my share of kinky former child stars.”

“Oh my God.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.Ididn’t get peed on.”

“That is way more than I needed to know. Ugh, this is going to be the most vanilla questionnaire they’ve ever received. They aren’t going to let me in.”

“Oh please. I’m sure you’ve got some secret kinks in there you don’t even know about. Let them worry about that. All you need to do is answer honestly.”

After another hour of filling it out, Tiffany convinces me to submit an application. Later, I go to bed embarrassed but also optimistic that I’m taking steps forward even if I have no intentions of stepping foot inside that club.

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