Page 13 of Teach Me

When I recovered, I stepped back, yanking the condom off and tossing it in the trash can next to the toilet.

Once again, I was left with no idea what I was supposed to do next, though I was gonna assume since my stranger returned for a second time that my prior behavior post-blowjob had either been what was expected or maybe even what he wanted, and I wasn’t in any hurry to screw that up. So, I took my time, wiping off my cock before tucking it away in order to give him the opportunity to leave first.

I waited for the inevitable sound of the latch sliding, but he lingered this time. I eased forward a bit but couldn’t see much through the hole.

Then, a flash of movement caught my eye as my mystery man slid his foot toward the wall that divided us, a scrap of paper beneath the toe of his shoe. He lifted his foot, and then came the snick of the latch, his departure.

My stomach swooped as I picked up the paper to find a phone number and, almost illegibly scrawled, “text only.”

7

CAM

“Text only?” Jesse’s red-gold brows scrunched in a frown. “Interesting. Maybe he’s, like, eighty-two and can’t hear very well.”

I busted up laughing. “No way. He doesn’t have the dick of an eighty-two-year-old.”

“Seen lots of eighty-two-year-old dicks, have you?” Jesse’s thoughtful frown morphed into a smirk.

“Stop.” I swatted in his direction. “We should be so lucky if our dicks work at eighty-two.”

“There’s always Viagra.”

“This guy didn’t need any Viagra. But we’re getting off track. Should I text him, and what do I say? ‘Now that I’ve sucked your dick through a glory hole twice, would you like to get coffee?’”

We both cracked up.

I hadn’t intended to mention my glory hole encounters to anyone—or at least I’d planned on letting an appropriate amount of time elapse so I could begin the story with, “Once upon a time…” but hooking up with my mystery man had left me floundering, especially when he’d passed me his number. I needed reinforcements, a next-step guide, because I definitelywanted more. Jesse was the logical choice since he always seemed to have his finger on the pulse of everything and everyone.

“I don’t know,” he hedged after a moment. “What if you don’t find him attractive on the other side of the wall? What if he looks like Charlie Sheen’s boxers after a weekend in Vegas.” He winced. “Sorry, probably a bad analogy.”

“Nah.” I laughed. “Probably accurate.”

I’d considered it, though. What if the reality was disappointing? What if I wasn’t attracted to the guy, or he wasn’t attracted to me? As long as we stayed in our anonymous bubble, I was safe from the troublesome parts of reality, pesky things like open-mouthed chewing, incompatible pizza toppings, bad toupees. For those reasons, I’d already decided I was comfortable continuing to meet up occasionally at the club, doing our glory hole thing, and then going our separate ways. It was the easiest way to maintain the fantasy without letting it take over my life. And honestly, this was the sexiest, most interesting thing to happen to me in months. I was okay with keeping the mystery alive. “I’m not in a place for a relationship regardless, so I’m good with what we’ve got going. Or maybe I shouldn’t text him at all. Keep leaving it up to chance.”

“What if you suck the wrong dick next time you’re at the howdy hole?” Jesse widened his eyes dramatically.

I gaped at him. “What the fuck? Is howdy hole the trendy name for a glory hole?”

Jesse pursed his lips and booped me on the nose. “No. I made it up, but it should be. Howdy hole is friendlier. Inviting like a handshake. But with dicks.”

When I stopped wheezing with laughter, I said, “I wouldn’t suck the wrong dick, though. I’d know his dick anywhere.”

He put a hand over his heart and batted his lashes. “That’s so romantic.”

“You know, I’m already regretting telling you in the first place. But seriously, I would.”

Jesse pulled a bowl out of the cabinet and plunked it on the counter. “Now I’m all invested in this. I fucking loved Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew as a kid. This is like my own grown-up, porny Nancy Drew. Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Glory Hole. I think you need to message him.”

I tossed my phone back and forth in my hands a couple of times, considering. “Okay, maybe. I’ll think more about it.”

“Nooooooo, do it now. You got me invested, and it’s all your fault. Text him, ‘wyd.’” Jesse cracked himself up again.

“God no, of all the text speak in the universe, ‘wyd’ is literally the most offensive. Like, ‘hi’ is two letters and way more appealing. I have never, ever responded to a ‘wyd.’” Not even at my horniest moments when I’d reluctantly gone onto Grindr only to be disappointed. All the guys looked like seasoned fuckboys, and I wanted something…different. Problem was, I was having trouble defining what “different” was even to myself. I just knew it wasn’t going over to some guy’s apartment and trading blowjobs. Yet somehow, sucking a guy off in a glory hole was better? Maybe something was wrong with me. “Plus, he’s definitely older. Nice shoes. A professional or something. ‘Wyd’ would not be a good look.”

Jesse cackled and held up his phone so I could see the text from Sam on the screen. It read, of course, “wyd.”

“Bless his heart, right?” Jesse grinned adoringly. “God, I love him, ‘wyd’ and all. Anyway, Text. Him. Now.” He punctuated each word with a clap of his hands. Then he froze and exhaled a low, “Oh my god.”