Page 297 of S is for SEX

“Yes,” I grinned.

She smiled and looked down at the paper, “Okay, next. I want to get a Goodreads account, Facebook, and maybe some other things on the internet. I think this will help me become more social. Oh, and I want more friends - more than Liv from the coffee shop. I want real friends,” as she looked up from the paper her face began to look worried.

“Yes,” I responded sharply.

She bounced in her chair and pulled excitedly on each side of the wrinkled paper to straighten the wrinkles.

“Okay. Next. I’m almost done,” she paused.

“I know I don’t have to say this, but I need to. It’s important,” she looked up from the paper and waited.

“Okay?” I responded.

Without looking down at the paper, she continued, “If you ever lay a hand on me. Slap me, hit me, grab me, push me, anything. I’m gone. I’ll leave you and never come back.”

She looked as if she was going to start crying.

“Kace, I’ll never lay a hand on you. Ever. I promise,” I responded.

I realized it was a huge step for her to even mention this. It was her way of taking a stance against what had already happened to her. She wiped her face as one single tear ran down her cheek with the back of her hand and sniffed.

“Okay. I just had to say it,” she said softly.

She looked down at the paper. “Last thing,” she folded the paper and stood up.

I stood up.

“No, you sit. I’ll be right back,” she said as she took off in a dead run for the kitchen.

I turned and looked over my shoulder as she reached into her purse and pulled out her Kindle. She ran back to the chair and plopped down, bouncing in her seat as she turned on the device.

“Let me finish,” she said as she stared at the screen of the Kindle.

“Kace you need to start first,” I responded.

“I know. I’m just saying, this is a long one,” she said as she flipped her finger across the screen of the Kindle.

“Okay,” I responded as I picked up my bottle of water from the end table.

“You’re not going to hurt me emotionally from sex. You’re too cautious, too careful, and you never even talk during sex. I’m not as fragile as you think. I’ve spent ten years getting fucked over, and not getting fucked. I want you to fuck me sometimes. And sometimes we can make love. But I never want you to worry about fucking me and harming me emotionally. This is what I want,” she looked up from the screen of her Kindle as she finished talking.

“Oh. Wow, okay. Well, what do you mean, specifically? Regarding fucking?” I asked, shocked this was her last question.

She jumped up from her seat and squeaked as she did. She handed me her Kindle and ran quickly back to her seat.

“Look at the screen. See the number at the bottom? 24%? Start there and read about five pages,” she said as she bounced up and down in her seat.

I looked down at the Kindle and began reading.

“Just flip your finger across the screen to turn the page,” she said.

I nodded as I read.

I finished the five pages.

Wow.

“Is that it?” I asked as I looked up from the Kindle.

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