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"I mean…" I glanced at it then back to her. "I'm game for anything if you show me what you want."

"Okay." She grinned and hopped right up. "I will. Let's go."

And like the love-drunk gal that I was, I followed right after her.

Our night went on like this, in varied states of playful, lustful, and joyful sex adventures until we landed on our favorite place to settle and cuddle. With our favorite drinks in hand, Clementine's tea and my fizzy energy drink, we snuggled on the sofa while listening to the rain patter the windows.

"Can I ask you something?" she implored after setting down her mug.

"Shoot."

"Shoot what?" Her brow furrowed with confusion.

"I mean go ahead." I nodded and rolled the cool can around in my palm.

"How come you don't like receiving much when we have sex?"

"I dunno." I shrugged. "I've always been like that. Most of my pleasure is derived from causing pleasure. It's more…in my mind? I guess?" I gulped down my words as her questions forced me to draw attention to my own process. "It's not like I don't have orgasms, I do. I just…usually alone?"

"Alone orgasms are good, too," she said, her chin resting on my shoulder while we talked rather candidly. "Has it always been that way for you?"

"Yes. For a long time. Not quite sure why. Sometimes sex was overwhelming to me. Like kissing was too much or being touched at certain times was not what I wanted. In fact, it would irritate me. For example, if I was cooking in the kitchen or folding laundry or whatever, and my partner came up behind me and touched my butt or my hair, my immediate reaction was to grit my teeth and feel irritated. I hated being touched like that, interrupted when I was focused. I can't really explain it. I just don't like it sometimes."

"Has that ever happened with me?" Her brows lifted, filled with a concern that flooded her normally peaceful expression.

"Not yet, no. But it might. I'm a little worried about that."

"Does kissing overstimulate you with me?"

"Not yet. We tend to move very quickly to sex. Making out was always torture for me. Absolute torture." An uneasy smile tugged the corner of my mouth. "I kinda like our speed. It doesn't leave time for me to get too uncomfortable. And I really enjoy being the pleasure-causer. Does that make sense?"

"Maybe not to other people, but it makes sense to me, yes."

"I used to think there was something wrong with me or that I was different. Don't get me wrong, I am different. Very much so. I'm around Tati and Wyatt and Frankie, and everyone else at the shop and they're not like me. They enjoy stuff differently. Wyatt understands me the most. He's had the most cognizant of changes when it comes to sex, so I trusted him the most. Like when I wanted to buy a strap to wear with you, he helped me."

"It must be lovely to have a friend like that," she said, a small hint of sadness in her voice.

"It is." I met her gaze when hers flickered to mine. "Have you never had a confidant like that?"

"Not really. My friendships don't last long. They're usually pretty transient and were related to work or college. Sometimes sexual partners, but that was usually utilitarian. It took me awhile to realize that people weren't actually interested in me. Just who they thought I was based on how I looked. Once those things ended or changed, the friendships stayed behind with it. I'm not good at keeping up with all of that."

"You're good at keeping up with me. And even pursuing me a bit."

"Well, I was interested in you and liked you." She smiled and poked my cheek. "And your art."

"What happens if you ever get not interested in me?"

"I don't think I will." She paused for a moment, as if thoughtfulness poured over her like a cooling sap. "But if you move away, it might be bad. Or if I do."

"Any plans to move away?"

"Nope."

"Me either. So we should be good."

Clem chuckled and gave my hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you have friends. They all seem nice. Frankie seems risky."

"She is, but she appears okay at the moment." I squeezed her hand gently. "I'm sorry you don't have many connections."