Free Pleasure With Purpose by Lisa Renée Jones Page A

her boney knees and flat chest any mind back then, preferring bosomy blondes, who he’d gone through as if they were candy corn meant for seasonal pleasure. Time, and a few more inches on her chest, hadn’t changed that either.
     
    “ I can’t believe you’ve never had an orgasm,” Brenda said, pulling Heather back into the present.
     
    Heather pursed her lips, indignation in her tone. “Of course I’ve had an orgasm. Just not a manmade one.”
     
    “ That’s the only kind that counts, honey.”
     
    “ Yeah well,” Heather admitted reluctantly, “don’t knock a good electric rabbit. They don’t judge you.” The joke barely made it from mouth, before her chest tightened, another confession unexpectedly bursting from her lips. “I’m beginning to think something’s wrong with me in that area. The men I date want to, um, shall we say, please me. I just can’t seem to…”
     
    “ Find satisfaction?”
     
    “ Exactly,” Heather sighed. There was no reason to fight the truth, considering how "out there" she was already.
     
    “ Good grief, woman. We have to fix this and fast. You’re going to lose your twenties to battery-operated pleasure if you don’t get with it. And that is just too, too sad.”
     
    “ Thank you for that positive feedback,” Heather said grumpily. “And in my defense, a few bad attempts at satisfaction that turned horribly wrong can make a girl pretty uptight.”
     
    Brenda snorted. “Those stuffed shirts you date would make any girl feel uptight.”
     
    “ I think you just insulted me.”
     
    “ No. Just your choice in men.”
     
    “ What’s wrong with my choices?” Heather demanded. “I date respectable men. Joseph was an attorney with a large firm. And Robert was a CPA.”
     
    “ Who fit the geeky accountant persona to perfection,” she said. “A little more suave hotness might just get you moaning in all the right ways.”
     
    Heather pressed her hand to her face. “How did I get into this conversation?” She dropped her hand back to her leg. “Will you stop already? Just forget I ever said the word ‘orgasm.’”
     
    “ You know what your problem is?”
     
    “ Why don’t you tell me?” Heather encouraged with a grimace, though Brenda didn’t ever need any encouragement to share her opinions.
     
    “ You’re inhibited. You’re inhibited and I know why.” Brenda jumped to her feet, grabbed Heather’s hand and pulled her to her feet as well. “Come with me.”
     
    “ Where?” Heather demanded suspiciously, digging in her heels. As a chef for a popular Dallas restaurant, Brenda was always cooking up trouble, both in and out of the kitchen.
     
    “ Rome,” she said sarcastically. “Seriously, woman. It’s not like I’m taking you to Brad’s bed or something.” Heather’s jaw dropped at the too-close-to-home comment, at the same moment that Brenda tugged her forward. They stopped in the entryway hall, in front of the hallway mirror, so that they stood side by side.
     
    “ Now tell me what you see,” Brenda ordered.
     
    Heather surveyed Brenda--her friend’s pale skin, perfect even without makeup, her faded jeans and a tee, somehow as perfect as the fiery mass of red curly hair.
     
    “ Don’t look at me ,” Brenda chided. “Look at you.”
     
    “ This is ridiculous,” Heather mumbled, glaring critically at her own image. Now, she had breasts at least. That was something. She guessed. Not that Brad seemed to notice. When she was younger, she’d been convinced a pair of breasts was all she needed for that man to stand at attention. And, damn it, she wanted to scream. Why, why, why did it always come back to Brad?
     
    Brenda slipped behind Heather and rested her chin on Heather’s shoulder. “You know what I see?”
     
    “ I’m afraid to ask.”
     
    “ I see a gorgeous brunette who’d make any man drool and any female envious. I know I sure am.”
     
    Heather rolled her eyes. “No need to lay on the compliments.