Vicki Thompson - Talking About Sex...

He blinked. Maybe she wasn’t going to be as cooperative as he thought. “You’re still upset about that prom-night thing, aren’t you?”

She eyed him over the rim of her wineglass as she drank. Then she lowered her goblet. “I chose you to be my first. I was curious and excited and eager…but you didn’t wanna. How do you suppose that made me feel?”

“Not good, but I had my reasons. I didn’t—”

“Reasons you weren’t able to share with a heartbroken girl, unfortunately. You’ll be happy to know I found another candidate, though.”

Now there was an unwelcome conversational thread. “I’d rather not hear about it, if you don’t mind.” He moved a little closer to her. Talking about her other lovers wouldn’t help get this seduction under way.

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.” She took another swallow of her wine. “But I think I need to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“You’re the only person in the world I ever thought of telling, and here you are, sitting in my living room. Of course, you don’t have to stay and listen. You could always leave.” She lifted her eyebrows.

“I’m not leaving.” If she wanted him to suffer a little, he’d suffer. The payoff would be more than worth it.

“It was during my freshman year at the U of A. He was a jock, a basically nice guy but sort of clumsy. Still, he got the job done, and presto, I was officially a nonvirgin. You see, I wanted sexual knowledge.” She paused. “I would rather have gained that knowledge with you,” she added softly.

“Damn it, Katie, I know that! But I didn’t want it to happen in the back of a car. You deserved more.”

“So what do you think of an upstairs bedroom in a frat house with a party going on down below?”

Jess closed his eyes as if that would block out the image of Katie with some idiot college kid who didn’t know what a treasure he had. Closing his eyes only seemed to make the picture more vivid, so he opened them again. “Obviously I screwed up and I’m sorry. I should have found a way to pay for a nice hotel.”

“Were you a virgin, too?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. Clueless and scared I wouldn’t make it good for you.”

She cradled her goblet in both hands. “I’m assuming you’re not a virgin anymore.”

“No.” He thought of his first time, which hadn’t been particularly memorable either. Since then, he’d taken several women to bed and each time he’d tried to convince himself he was falling in love. It had never happened.

“I’m glad you’re not a virgin. I wouldn’t want to shock you.”

He grew uneasy. After all, she did have that radio talk show. Last night she’d seemed like the woman he remembered, soft and eager for his kiss. But tonight she’d morphed into someone more experienced and sure of herself. She’d become Billboard Katie.

For all he knew, in the past thirteen years she’d turned into a wild thing who’d had more lovers than he’d had. Once upon a time they’d been equally green, equally ignorant of the nuances. Since then, she might have outstripped him.

“Changed your mind, Jess?” Her blue eyes issued a challenge.

He looked at her in that filmy black number and knew he’d never be able to live with himself if he walked away from this chance. He’d be a damned coward if he allowed himself to be intimidated and left now. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I’m glad.” She finished her wine and held out her glass for more. “Because I’m looking forward to this.”

His hand was unsteady, but he managed to pour her wine without spilling any on her turquoise sofa. “So am I.” He resisted the urge to top off his own glass. He could use the Dutch courage, but more wine might dull his senses. Dulled senses wouldn’t serve him well in the hours ahead. He had to stay sharp.

“So how did you happen to hear my show last night?”

He wasn’t about to confess that he listened to her show almost every night. “I was out. I had the car radio on.”

“Driving around by yourself?”

“Uh, no. I had a date.”

She put down her wine. “Please tell me you didn’t have a date waiting out in the car when you came to the station. If you did, then I don’t know you at all, and this night is so over.”

“I didn’t have a date in the car. I drove her home before I came down to KRZE.”

“Is she…someone special?”

“No.” He took comfort in the way she’d asked that. She didn’t want him to have a steady girlfriend any more than he wanted her to have a steady boyfriend. Once they got past the stage where she felt the need to hiss at him every so often, they would be fine. Once he could hold her in his arms, they would be even better.

“That’s a relief,” she said. “I don’t want to poach on another woman’s territory.”

“I wouldn’t want to poach on another guy’s territory either.” He wanted confirmation of what he suspected—that she wasn’t serious about anyone.

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t be poaching.”

He could take that two ways. Either he had clear sailing…or she’d keep him moored at the dock. He’d go with the clear-sailing image. “Okay. Good.” He edged closer to her. “You know what? You’re too far away.”

“Hold your position, Harkins.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Stay where you are. It’s been thirteen years, and I want us to have a chance to get to know each other before we start with the physical stuff.”

That totally bewildered him. “Like what? You want to go out to dinner first?”

“I’ve had dinner, thanks. I think we should sit and talk.”

“Well, okay, but at the station last night you seemed ready to—”

“Old tapes playing in my head is all. I’m conditioned from our high school make-out sessions to go up in flames the minute you kiss me, so I reacted that way last night, like Pavlov’s dogs. But we’re starting fresh, like you said. We never did much talking back then.”

He remembered how they’d steamed up the windows with heavy breathing, not conversation. “No, we didn’t.” And he wished she’d save herself some work and continue with that earlier conditioning instead of trying to reprogram herself. Going up in flames when he kissed her sounded A-okay to him.

“So let’s talk,” she said.

“About what?”

“I’m curious to find out how much you know about sex.”

He gulped. “I’m not sure what you mean by that. Besides, I’m more a man of action than words.” Sweat began to trickle down his spine. He might be in way over his head with the new version of Katie Peterson. “If you’re asking me to list techniques, I’d rather show you than try to describe them.”

“Maybe it would help if I asked a few questions. For example, what’s your favorite way to make a woman come?”

His chest tightened. He had a feeling she was going somewhere with this, but he couldn’t figure out where, and that put him at a big disadvantage. He struggled to breathe normally. “Depends on the woman,” he said.

She nodded. “Good answer. You don’t have a one-size-fits-all approach to female orgasms. I like that.”

“I hope you would…like that.” Maybe she was putting him through some kind of test.

“Mmm.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “I do like to come. Sadly a girl can’t always count on a man to take the time she needs, though.”

“I would.” He was getting hard, which might be what she’d had in mind when she’d suggested this conversation. “You’ll have all the time you want. We can take it slow or we can take it fast. Whatever feels good.” And he’d like to get started. Now.

“Are you in favor of oral sex?”

“Yes.” He was in favor of it immediately. If she’d let him settle his head between her thighs in the next five minutes, he’d put an end to this conversation and replace it with her satisfied moaning. “I have an idea. Let’s move the discussion to your bedroom.”