I thought I got what he was saying. For me, sex was physical. I saw a hot girl; I wanted to take her to bed. Boom. End of story. At least, that was how twenty-two-year-old me operated.
When it came to Elle, clearly, I have a lot more self-control than I ever realized.
Case launched into a lecture, and I tried to absorb every word. “It’s important to spend more time on foreplay than you think you need. It helps to tease her before, get her wet and build anticipation. And as I mentioned, you want to start slow. The clitoris has eight thousand more nerve endings than a penis, so you want to use gentle pressure until she’s ready for more.”
Rather than feeling uncomfortable about the conversation, I recall leaning forward in interest. I knew that Case knew what the hell he was talking about, and he wasn’t trying to talk down to me. I could tell he legitimately wanted to help me.
“How will I know she’s ready for more?” I asked.
“You’ll be reading her reactions. Everything will be about her pleasure—not yours. You’ll listen to her cues and watch for her responses, and then you can build up from there.”
We spent three hours going over every detail that would make me, ultimately, a much better lover. From little things, like when you’re fucking a girl in missionary position, not to just balance on top of her with your forearms on either side of her shoulders. Instead, you should place one hand on the back of her neck and the other under her shoulder, increasing your skin-to-skin contact. Then we moved on to bigger things, like making sure you build trust and rapport with her to make her feel as comfortable as possible before you get into bed together.
More than just learning about sexual techniques and positions, Case taught me a lot about how to talk to women, how to use open-ended questions and make the conversations about them—their hopes, dreams, motivations, and things they love to do.
“And Nic?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t worry. No one’s ever passed Gia’s test on the first try.”
His words made me feel slightly better.
The following day, I met with her for another encounter, this one a very hands-on instructional meeting, and I passed with flying colors. After that, I began meeting with clients, and have been hard at work ever since. Pun intended, I guess.
I don’t recall ever taking a day off unexpectedly like this in the last six years, except for that time I had food poisoning. And as soon as I work Elle out of my system, I know I’ll be right back to fucking my way through Case’s clientele, making us both very rich men.
Chapter Eleven
Elle
“You look like you had such an amazing time,” I say as Christine swipes through her photos of Hawaii. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since the wedding, and she’s absolutely glowing. We’re at my favorite wine bar downtown, and after half a glass of merlot, I’m feeling sentimental.
“I don’t know if it’s the tan or the marriage, but something you’re doing is working for you,” I say, grinning at her. I’m so happy for her and my brother. They really are the perfect couple.
She laughs, putting her phone away. “It’s probably the relief of making it through the wedding without anything going horribly wrong.” She takes a sip of her chardonnay before continuing. “What have you been up to? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
I fill her in on everything that’s been going on with work. Secretly, I’ve been dying to ask her more about Nic, but I don’t want to seem too eager. When I texted her asking her to tell me more about him, she seemed hesitant and didn’t say much, but I’m not letting her off the hook that easily. If she didn’t want me to ask about Nic, she should have known better than to set us up. Especially when she knows he’s basically the sexiest, sweetest guy alive. I mean, seriously.
“I also saw Nic again,” I admit after I’ve finished telling her about work. I give her a sheepish look, anticipating her judgment.
“Elle!” she says, as if she’s admonishing me for something.
“What?” I shake my head. “I don’t get it. You’re the one who set us up.”
“To make Jeremy jealous,” she says, giving me a serious look. “Not to start dating. Don’t tell me you slept with him.”
“No, I didn’t sleep with him.” I sigh. “We just got coffee and talked. It was very PG; you would have been so proud of me, Mom.” I decide not to tell her that after the wedding, I was ready to ride him like a stallion before I got too drunk. “Look, whatever happened in college that makes you think he’s not dating material isn’t true anymore. He’s changed. He’s been a total gentleman with me.”
“People don’t change, Elle, trust me,” she says, taking another sip of her wine.
I’m still baffled by how weird she’s being about this whole thing. Like she thinks he’s slimy. I’ve never heard her talk about someone this way, even people she doesn’t like, and supposedly she and Nic were close. But then why did she set me up with him on a blind date? It’s strange.
“Did you guys have a thing or something?” I have a loose theory that Christine and Nic hooked up in college, and now she feels weird about the thought of us getting together.
“What? No way. I’m just being protective. I don’t want to see you get hurt again, that’s all, and we both know that rebound men are never keepers.” She stares at me intently, and despite how strange she’s acting, I can tell she genuinely does care.
Before I can say anything else, my phone vibrates. It’s a text from Nic, and my heart jumps at the sight of his name on my screen.
Are you free for dinner this week?
“I’m going to be fine. Also, he just asked me out to dinner,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face, even in front of Christine.
When I show her the text, she looks horrified. I hold myself back from rolling my eyes.
“Christine, whatever douchey things Nic did in college are way in the past. Most college kids sow their wild oats during that time, right? And then they grow up to be normal people who get married and have children. Trust me, he’s not like that anymore. If he were, don’t you think he’d have tried to do more than just kiss me by now?”
“Please just be careful with this.” She puts a hand on mine, looking into my eyes. “I can’t tell you who to date, but just know that I’m warning you about this guy. I don’t want you to end up with a broken heart.”
“I am being careful,” I say, frustration creeping into my voice. “When am I not careful? And why are you so sure I’ll end up with a broken heart?”
Christine sighs and looks down at her hands. “I’m not sure; I’m just worried. But you’re an adult, and I respect that. You can make your own decisions.”
Damn right I can.
“He’s a good guy, I promise. I know you’ve known him longer, but you haven’t seen him in a long time. He’s not a player, or an asshole, or anything like that. He’s really sweet and supportive.”
I don’t tell her about his encouragement with the bar exam, or the sweet compliments he offered when Jeremy said I was too curvy. I have a feeling she’d only find a way to condemn them as being less than genuine.