Free Love on the Rocks (with Salt) by Charlene Ross Page B

used
to be good at talking to boys, but I just got out of a long
relationship. I’m out of practice.”
    “ Why not talk to me like I’m a
person, not a guy? Like you’d talk to a friend.”
    “ Wow,” I reply.
“I’m already getting the let’s be friends routine. I am out of practice.
Either that or I look as bad as I think I do.”
    “ No,” he says. “You look cute all
dressed down, but it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to date yet.
But if you want, we could go back to my place after breakfast and
just have sex.”
    Did he say what I think he
said? Did he ask me to have sex with
him? I’m too fragile to date but not too
fragile for a Sunday morning shag? And why does it turn me on? You
know what? I don’t want to date this guy. He’s an ass. But I was with the same
guy for seven years. Maybe a mindless roll in the hay is what I
need.
    I feel myself blinking as I come out of my
deer-in-the-headlights stare. “Hey, I was only kidding,” he
laughs.
    “ Do you have a condom?” I
ask.
    “ I always have a
condom.”
    “ OK.” I smile. “After we eat
breakfast.”
     
    ~~~~
     
    I’m lying in Tom’s bed after the most
incredible sex I’ve ever had. He can use his tongue in ways I
didn’t know were possible. And for a long time.
    “ Wow,” he says to me.
    “ Wow yourself.”
    “ Are you sure you never do this?”
he asks, drawing circles around my navel. “You seem awfully good at
it. Amazing in fact.” I feel myself blush.
    “ I didn’t say I never had sex. I
said I’d been having it with the same person for the last seven
years.”
    “ I’ve heard that’s kind of the
same thing.”
    “ You’ve heard?”
    “ Well, the longest I’ve ever been
with someone is three months, but I’ve heard that after a while sex
becomes almost non-existent.”
    “ The longest you’ve ever been with
someone is three months?” I say incredulously.
    “ Hey, I don’t want to do this. I
thought we were just having fun.”
    This guy may be good in bed, but I swear, he
is getting less appealing by the minute.
    “ Who said anything about a
relationship? I’m just shocked that you’ve never actually been in
one. How old are you?”
    “ Twenty-seven.”
    Twenty-seven?! I just had sex with a guy five years younger than
me. Holy crap, he must have been born in a different decade. When I
got my driver’s license, he was in elementary school. When I
graduated from college, he was feeling some girl up at junior prom.
No wonder he’s such an ass—he’s barely even a
grown-up.
    I see his lips moving again. I shake my head.
“Pardon me,” I say.
    “ I said I’m twenty-seven. How old
are you?”
    “ Thirty-two.”
    “ Really,” he says with a big smile
on his face. “Aren’t women in their thirties in their sexual
prime?” he asks, kissing my stomach.
    I push his head away. “Not
until they’re thirty-five or thirty-six.” I start putting on my
clothes. I cannot believe I just went to some guy’s apartment after
breakfast— breakfast! I wasn’t even drunk—and had
down-and-dirty-not-yet-in-my-sexual-prime cougar sex with him.
“I’ve still got a few more years. Maybe I’ll give you a call then,
and we can do it again, but right now I think it’s time for me to
go.”
    And with that I kiss him on the forehead, slip
on my clothes and walk out the door.
     
    Find out what happens next…
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