Free Revolving Doors by Perri Forrest Page A

came to Brazil, I felt out of place and it didn’t go so well. But the year after, I met my best friend Natalia, and it became the place I couldn’t wait to get to. She was born here, but her stepfather is American so she’s been speaking English since she was a little girl.”
    “So did she teach you Portuguese?” he inquired.
    “For the most part, but I learned a lot just by listening and diving into conversations. I took formal lessons as well.”
    “Wow,” he exclaimed. “You are an interesting young woman, Gabriella. I’m glad your experiences have been so pleasant because if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you,” he said without taking his eyes off mine.
    “I would say pleasant for sure and it’s definitely become a second home. I love it here.”
    “I love the way your eyes light up when you speak about my country.”
    “ Your country, huh? I’m staking a claim that it’s my country too!” I smiled.
    Talking with him was easy, and it helped that he had a sense of humor. He was fun to be around, and I enjoyed his company. It may be why I told him about losing my virginity in Brazil a few years earlier.
    I also found myself telling him about Kenny, what happened between us and how that played into my return to Brazil three months after leaving.
    The difference between telling the story before and telling it to him then, was that I was no longer fazed by the details. The emotions surrounding it were gone.
    At the end of my disclosure, Victor commented.
    “H e served his purpose. His loss, but he left a valuable mark, as it seems like he taught you well.”
    “ Huh ?” I asked, suspecting what he meant, but not quite sure. “ Come again …”
    “It means that you have something wonderful down low, and you know how to please. There are many women who lay there only to receive. I didn’t get that from you. You are very much a partner…both a giver and a receiver.”
    It was as I assumed. He was referring to Kenny’s contribution to any skill I possessed, between the sheets.
    He had a point. But, if I had to, I would categorize his contribution in the area of quantity , which allowed for oodles of practice to perfect the craft.
    In truth, I believed that I had as much sex with Kenny in the first place so that I could master the art.
    Since my first time, I had thoughts of the type of lover I would be. Would I be like Samantha Jones’ character on Sex and the City , who couldn’t seem to get enough and kept a plethora of lovers? Or like Joan Clayton, on Girlfriends who foolishly adhered to a 3-month rule before taking a new lover, thinking that holding out would keep a man around? Or somewhere in between the two?
    I knew that whatever category I fell into, I wanted to be mindful of the pleasure aspect. 
    “ Giver … yes , and receiver … of course ,” I blushed. “I don’t ever want to wait for anybody to give me anything,” I told him. “If I want pleasure, it’s as much on me as it is that person who I’m engaging in activity with. I put myself in a position to know what I really want as a woman and what feels good. When I’m immersed in the moment, I pay attention to what’s happening on both sides – mine and his.”
    He stared at me attentively as I spoke.
    “Intriguing. Please tell me more,” he asked, to which I happily obliged.
    “My first time, I was excited at the fact that I had ‘ done it ’. It made me feel like I could accomplish anything. We had sex five different times over a two-day period. I loved the feeling. I loved the moaning, the penetration, all of it. Once I got used to it, somewhere around the third time, I focused more on him and what made him tick. What moves of mine made him moan, what areas he liked to be touched. All I wanted to do from that point was master the art of lovemaking.”
    It took him a second to respond, leaving me to wonder if I had talked too much. 
    “I would say that you’ve arrived, Lady. You have the