Page 74 of A Real Goode Time

“Rhys…” she trailed off.

Her hand was low on my belly. And my desire for the woman in my arms wasnotabating. The reverse. She saw the evidence of that.

“Already?” she whispered, and twisted on my chest to look up at my eyes. “Seriously?”

“I just…need you.” I closed my eyes and spoke the truth. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone, I want you. It’s…a little scary.”

Silence. There was no clock ticking. No refrigerator humming. No faucet dripping. No traffic. No animal or insect sounds. It was strange, how loud the silence was.

“I know you have questions,” Torie said, eventually.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Not sure I want to ask them, or if I want the answers, though.”

“Not sure I want to answer them.”

“We don’t have to,” I said. “It could just be…this.”

She shook her head, her cheek moving against my chest. “Once or twice is fine. But you wouldn’t be content with just…this.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I agreed with a sigh. “As incredible as you made me feel with just your hands, and for a few minutes, your mouth, no, I would want more. I alreadydowant more.”

She sat up, crossed her legs, and sat naked facing me, her hands covering her sex. “So. Fire away, Mr. Frost.”

11

Torie

After a brief silence, he scratched his jaw and said, “I guess the place to start for me is, how is it you’re a virgin at almost twenty-one?”

I’d been thinking about the answer to this question for some time, so I figured I would just try to explain everything as best I could. “I was shy as a kid. Bookish. Spent most of my time reading, not really socializing. I was also…what you might call a late bloomer.” I sighed, remembering the painful years. “I was shy and antisocial because I was skinny, flat, and boring.”

“I cannot believe you were ever any of those things.”

I smiled at him. “That’s sweet of you to say, but it’s just the truth. I started puberty around the same time as most of the other girls, you know, got my first period at twelve, moods, all that fun stuff. But…my body didn’t change. Nothing happened. None. Zero. Not even little, like, buds. By eighth grade, I still barely even needed a sports bra for gym class. No butt. No hips. Just…stick legs, spaghetti noodle arms. I had the body of a boy. Plus, I was hungry all the time. I could out-eat most guys I knew, and would. So that was extremely uncool. And I read lots of books, but not just any books. I was readingAnna Kareninain eighth grade, and Jane Austen, and the Brontë sisters, Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, all the classics I could get my hands on at the library. And to make matters worse, my favorite hobby other than reading was working on cars with my dad. I’d arrive at school on Monday with my hands stained with the grease I couldn’t get off. And was the only girl in Mr. Moody’s auto shop during the four years I went.” I sighed. “I was made fun of byeveryone. Even the kids who everyone else made fun of, made fun of me.”

He made a face of pained commiseration. “God, that sucks. High school is the worst.”

I made awhat can you doface. “So, yeah, I didn’t exactly have anyone lined up to relieve me of my virginity in high school. Never went to a single high school or middle school dance. Not one.” I laughed. “The night of prom, Dad and I were putting in a new flywheel. We had pizza and listened to most of Led Zeppelin’s entire discography.”

“Did you ever have a crush on anyone?”

I snorted. “Sure. I had the worst crush on Jeff Ringold. He was the coolest kid in school, drove a Mercedes G-Wagen, captain of the soccer and lacrosse teams. Hot as hell. Big shoulders, blond hair that was just like Brad Pitt’s—that perfect. I told him I liked him, and I thought he was cute. I did it after school one day. He laughed in my face, told everyone what I’d said, and they all made fun of me so bad I ran home crying.”

“Jesus. What a prick.”

“Yeah, he was. I just…I’d had a crush on him since he was a pimply violin dork in fifth grade. Wasn’t my fault he’d blossomed into a teenage heartthrob. And a major jackass.” I closed my eyes, remembering. “Every time he saw me, he’d laugh, and shake his head, like he couldn’t believe I’d even talk to him. So that kind of soured me on boys for the rest of high school.”

He frowned. “So…”

I could tell he was figuring out how to phrase his question. “Just ask, Rhys. I won’t be offended.”

“What we did? None of that was your first time. You said you’d done other stuff. So…how’d you get from boys are pathetic to…that?”

I laughed. “I graduated high school at just barely seventeen—I skipped a grade, which also didn’t help my unpopularity. And that year, the year I graduated, was when I finally got these.” I cupped my breasts and shook them. And his eyes followed them for a comically long time. And the sheet he’d covered his erection with tented even more. “I filled out, and without the pressure of high school, I just…was a little happier. I think the stress and pressure of high school literally kept me from developing all the way. I dunno.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” he said. “You also said, maybe you don’t remember saying it, but last night or this morning you said you’d only seen two penises, but mine was your favorite, or something like that.”

“What I said was, yours has to be the prettiest penis there is.” I laughed. “I get weird when I’m half asleep.”