couldn’t expect them to pass up dessert, though I’d hoped
to follow Nick back to the woman’s apartment to make sure he didn’t go inside.
I debated sending Christina and Alicia a text and instructing them to bring their
wine bottle in case I needed to lob a Molotov cocktail through the woman’s window.
Of course I didn’t actually know how to make a Molotov cocktail, but I Googled it
while I waited. Hmm. It sounded fairly simple. All you needed was a bottle, some flammable liquid, and
a small swatch of fabric. I could siphon gas from Christina’s tank and tuck my panties
into the top of the bottle. I’m nothing if not resourceful. Besides, the pair of underwear
I was wearing had definitely seen better days. It was an old pair from a days-of-the-week
set my mother had bought me for college years ago. Despite the fact that it was currently
Wednesday, my panties read: “FRIDAY.” Yep, I definitely needed to get on that laundry.
Ten minutes later, Christina and Alicia returned to the car, doggie bags in hand.
“So?” I asked as they climbed into the Volvo. “What happened?”
Christina grinned. “Alicia pulled a chair up to their table and turned on the waterworks.
She told Nick that she and Daniel had split up because Daniel wouldn’t make a commitment.
She asked Nick for advice.”
“As if I’d take advice from a man,” Alicia said, waving a hand dismissively. “Those
idiots don’t know what they want. Other than sex, of course.”
“Of course,” Christina said.
“But women want sex, too, don’t we?” I knew I did. I’d been without it for several
days now and was feeling the strain. I guess I hadn’t realized how much I relied on
the act to relieve the tension accumulated on my job. “I mean, we don’t have to pretend
that it’s just for men anymore, right?” The sexual revolution of the 1970s had moved
us beyond that.
“Please,” Alicia said. “Don’t even mention sex. As busy as Daniel’s been, I’m lucky
to get a little something-something once a month.”
“Brett and I have had a bit of a dry spell, too,” I said, though I only had myself
to blame for that. Admittedly, I’d been avoiding intimacy. Given my feelings for Nick,
I couldn’t enjoy sex with Brett like I used to. I felt too guilty afterward. Too bad
I wasn’t a slut who could do the deed without any emotional connection.
“You know what you two need?” Christina slid us a sly grin. “A B.O.B.”
“Who’s Bob?” Alicia asked.
“He’s not a who, ” Christina said. “He’s a what. A Battery-Operated Boyfriend.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. I’d sooner take up jogging to relieve my tension
than use one of those things. And I hated jogging.
Christina shrugged. “We found one in a drawer on a bust the other day. It was enormous.”
She held up her hands to indicate length, like a fisherman describing the one that
got away. Her hands were at least two feet apart.
Both Alicia and I cringed and shrank back against our seats. “Ouch!”
Christina looked down at her widely splayed hands. “Okay, maybe I was a little off
there. But you get my point.”
I didn’t want to think anymore about the point she was trying to make. Time to get this conversation back on track. “Tell me more
about what happened in the restaurant.”
“It was so-o-o awkward,” Christina said. “The girl just sat there looking uncomfortable while Alicia
blubbered on Nick’s shoulder.”
Alicia chuckled. “I stayed at their table a full twenty minutes.”
Nick was too nice to tell her to buzz off. He could be sort of sweet on occasion.
I took each of their hands in mine and gave them a squeeze. “Thanks, you two. I owe
you.”
“No you don’t,” Christina said. “That dinner was delicious.”
Alicia agreed. “Besides, all you have at your place is cereal and SpaghettiOs.”
My stomach growled in response and for the first time I realized I
to follow Nick back to the woman’s apartment to make sure he didn’t go inside.
I debated sending Christina and Alicia a text and instructing them to bring their
wine bottle in case I needed to lob a Molotov cocktail through the woman’s window.
Of course I didn’t actually know how to make a Molotov cocktail, but I Googled it
while I waited. Hmm. It sounded fairly simple. All you needed was a bottle, some flammable liquid, and
a small swatch of fabric. I could siphon gas from Christina’s tank and tuck my panties
into the top of the bottle. I’m nothing if not resourceful. Besides, the pair of underwear
I was wearing had definitely seen better days. It was an old pair from a days-of-the-week
set my mother had bought me for college years ago. Despite the fact that it was currently
Wednesday, my panties read: “FRIDAY.” Yep, I definitely needed to get on that laundry.
Ten minutes later, Christina and Alicia returned to the car, doggie bags in hand.
“So?” I asked as they climbed into the Volvo. “What happened?”
Christina grinned. “Alicia pulled a chair up to their table and turned on the waterworks.
She told Nick that she and Daniel had split up because Daniel wouldn’t make a commitment.
She asked Nick for advice.”
“As if I’d take advice from a man,” Alicia said, waving a hand dismissively. “Those
idiots don’t know what they want. Other than sex, of course.”
“Of course,” Christina said.
“But women want sex, too, don’t we?” I knew I did. I’d been without it for several
days now and was feeling the strain. I guess I hadn’t realized how much I relied on
the act to relieve the tension accumulated on my job. “I mean, we don’t have to pretend
that it’s just for men anymore, right?” The sexual revolution of the 1970s had moved
us beyond that.
“Please,” Alicia said. “Don’t even mention sex. As busy as Daniel’s been, I’m lucky
to get a little something-something once a month.”
“Brett and I have had a bit of a dry spell, too,” I said, though I only had myself
to blame for that. Admittedly, I’d been avoiding intimacy. Given my feelings for Nick,
I couldn’t enjoy sex with Brett like I used to. I felt too guilty afterward. Too bad
I wasn’t a slut who could do the deed without any emotional connection.
“You know what you two need?” Christina slid us a sly grin. “A B.O.B.”
“Who’s Bob?” Alicia asked.
“He’s not a who, ” Christina said. “He’s a what. A Battery-Operated Boyfriend.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. I’d sooner take up jogging to relieve my tension
than use one of those things. And I hated jogging.
Christina shrugged. “We found one in a drawer on a bust the other day. It was enormous.”
She held up her hands to indicate length, like a fisherman describing the one that
got away. Her hands were at least two feet apart.
Both Alicia and I cringed and shrank back against our seats. “Ouch!”
Christina looked down at her widely splayed hands. “Okay, maybe I was a little off
there. But you get my point.”
I didn’t want to think anymore about the point she was trying to make. Time to get this conversation back on track. “Tell me more
about what happened in the restaurant.”
“It was so-o-o awkward,” Christina said. “The girl just sat there looking uncomfortable while Alicia
blubbered on Nick’s shoulder.”
Alicia chuckled. “I stayed at their table a full twenty minutes.”
Nick was too nice to tell her to buzz off. He could be sort of sweet on occasion.
I took each of their hands in mine and gave them a squeeze. “Thanks, you two. I owe
you.”
“No you don’t,” Christina said. “That dinner was delicious.”
Alicia agreed. “Besides, all you have at your place is cereal and SpaghettiOs.”
My stomach growled in response and for the first time I realized I
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