her head, wincing. “I haven’t said anything to him about it. I think he knows that I don’t climax anymore, but he doesn’t know that I hate having sex with him.”
“Well, a lot of things could have started the decline in your sex drive, but I think I can tell you why it’s suddenly gotten worse. Even though he may be clueless to the fact that you’re finding sex with him distasteful, you’re likely beginning to resent him for it. Have you considered telling him how you feel?”
“I don’t know how. I’m afraid it would make him mad, or even hurt his feelings, if I told him that I’ve basically just been suffering his advances for so long.”
“Hm. Maybe don’t tell him all that. And certainly don’t begin with that. You could just begin by telling him that your sex drive has gone away. How ever you open up the communication, though, the point is that you begin to talk about these things. Communication is an important component to all types of intimacy, even the physical kind.”
Jen nodded, took a deep breath, then smiled. “I’ll give it a shot. I vote it’s time for cocktail number two.”
I seconded that.
We ate, and drank, and talked for hours. As the therapy session wound down, the talk turned silly, as it usually did.
“Fuck. Ing. Hot.” Sandra said, referring to the owner of the Cavendish casino, and the gallery where she worked. She looked like she was feeling awfully pretty. “He came into the gallery a few days ago, and I about had a heart attack.”
“He is gorgeous,” Candy said, toasting the air.
“No,” Sandra said. “You don’t understand. He looks gorgeous in pictures, but in real life, he will blow your mind . Once you’ve seen his eyes up close, you can never go back.”
“You should make a pass at him,” Candy said.
“ I’d make a pass at him,” Harriet said. “In fact, I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Sandra shook her head. “He only dates supermodels with legs that go up to their tits, or playboy models with tits that go up to their chins.”
“Just go for it,” Harriet said. “What have you got to lose?”
“Um, her job,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Harriet and Candy were funny as hell, but not the ones to take advice from. Their brand of outrageous would not work for everybody. It backfired on them half the time.
“Dating the boss rarely turns out well,” Lucy pointed out reasonably.
“I wasn’t saying she should date him,” Harriet defended. “I was saying she should bone his pretty brains out.”
“Arguably an even worse idea,” Lucy mused.
Sandra held up a hand. “Settle down everybody. He’s not interested in me, so it’s not even a question. I just like to vent about how fucking hot he is.”
“Amen, sister,” Candy said, toasting the air again.
I raised my glass, as well. I could toast to that. “To hot men who we don’t need to fuck to appreciate,” I said.
I got a few startled glances for that unexpected outburst, but everyone toasted with me.
“Are you just speaking in general?” Lucy asked, tilting her head to study me. “That sounded a little specific.”
“Oh, it’s specific,” Sandra slurred. “James fucking Cavendish is specifically the hottest man alive.”
Bev giggled. Uh oh , I thought. She was tipsy if she was giggling. “Wait until you get a load of Danika’s friend, Tristan,” she said. “He could give Boss Cavendish a run for his money, and he and Danika have crazy chemistry.”
“The fuck you say?” Candy inquired, looking very interested.
“Why you holding out, Danika?” Harriet questioned, her words slurred.
“Who’s this Tristan?” Lucy asked, and I saw by the way she was studying me that she was already worried.
I hitched one shoulder up in a self-conscious shrug. “He’s strictly a buddy. Bev is just drunk.”
Bev nodded. Very
“Well, a lot of things could have started the decline in your sex drive, but I think I can tell you why it’s suddenly gotten worse. Even though he may be clueless to the fact that you’re finding sex with him distasteful, you’re likely beginning to resent him for it. Have you considered telling him how you feel?”
“I don’t know how. I’m afraid it would make him mad, or even hurt his feelings, if I told him that I’ve basically just been suffering his advances for so long.”
“Hm. Maybe don’t tell him all that. And certainly don’t begin with that. You could just begin by telling him that your sex drive has gone away. How ever you open up the communication, though, the point is that you begin to talk about these things. Communication is an important component to all types of intimacy, even the physical kind.”
Jen nodded, took a deep breath, then smiled. “I’ll give it a shot. I vote it’s time for cocktail number two.”
I seconded that.
We ate, and drank, and talked for hours. As the therapy session wound down, the talk turned silly, as it usually did.
“Fuck. Ing. Hot.” Sandra said, referring to the owner of the Cavendish casino, and the gallery where she worked. She looked like she was feeling awfully pretty. “He came into the gallery a few days ago, and I about had a heart attack.”
“He is gorgeous,” Candy said, toasting the air.
“No,” Sandra said. “You don’t understand. He looks gorgeous in pictures, but in real life, he will blow your mind . Once you’ve seen his eyes up close, you can never go back.”
“You should make a pass at him,” Candy said.
“ I’d make a pass at him,” Harriet said. “In fact, I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Sandra shook her head. “He only dates supermodels with legs that go up to their tits, or playboy models with tits that go up to their chins.”
“Just go for it,” Harriet said. “What have you got to lose?”
“Um, her job,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Harriet and Candy were funny as hell, but not the ones to take advice from. Their brand of outrageous would not work for everybody. It backfired on them half the time.
“Dating the boss rarely turns out well,” Lucy pointed out reasonably.
“I wasn’t saying she should date him,” Harriet defended. “I was saying she should bone his pretty brains out.”
“Arguably an even worse idea,” Lucy mused.
Sandra held up a hand. “Settle down everybody. He’s not interested in me, so it’s not even a question. I just like to vent about how fucking hot he is.”
“Amen, sister,” Candy said, toasting the air again.
I raised my glass, as well. I could toast to that. “To hot men who we don’t need to fuck to appreciate,” I said.
I got a few startled glances for that unexpected outburst, but everyone toasted with me.
“Are you just speaking in general?” Lucy asked, tilting her head to study me. “That sounded a little specific.”
“Oh, it’s specific,” Sandra slurred. “James fucking Cavendish is specifically the hottest man alive.”
Bev giggled. Uh oh , I thought. She was tipsy if she was giggling. “Wait until you get a load of Danika’s friend, Tristan,” she said. “He could give Boss Cavendish a run for his money, and he and Danika have crazy chemistry.”
“The fuck you say?” Candy inquired, looking very interested.
“Why you holding out, Danika?” Harriet questioned, her words slurred.
“Who’s this Tristan?” Lucy asked, and I saw by the way she was studying me that she was already worried.
I hitched one shoulder up in a self-conscious shrug. “He’s strictly a buddy. Bev is just drunk.”
Bev nodded. Very
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