Free Mountains Wanted by Phoebe Alexander Page A

she wanted to ask, but refrained. She was not the type of person
to beat around the bush. Why is this conversation so strained? Ask for what
you want , she heard Rachel’s voice in her head. Cut to the chase . Sarah
swallowed the coffee in her mouth and took a deep breath. “Um, what are we doing
here?” the words floated out into the still air like bubbles waiting to pop.
    James shot her his all
American smile, as if he was relieved she was willing to confront the elephant
in the room. “I wanted to ask you the same thing,” he admitted. “I’m not good
at this stuff.”
    I am supposed to be good
at this stuff , Sarah thought, remembering
all the different relationships and understandings she’d nurtured in the past,
different levels, different attachments, all along a spectrum from casual sex
to committed monogamy. She studied him, his straight nose, his clean-shaven
chin, his full, slightly upturned lips, trying to decide how to articulate it
in a way that wouldn’t turn him off. “I enjoyed our night together,” she
finally said. “Immensely.”
    He nodded and one
eyebrow raised as if to beckon her to continue.
    “I...I would like to
explore our dynamic some more,” she revealed, very deliberately adding,
 “With no expectations for anything else.” She let that sink in and then
qualified it: “I mean...for now....”
    He looked perplexed for
a moment but then it dawned on him what her words meant. “You just want to
fuck me?” he asked so softly that the F word was barely audible.
    Sarah laughed, “I don’t
want to complicate your life, James. I know we’re both busy. I enjoy your
company but I get the feeling you don’t want any...pressures.” She was gauging
his reaction to her words before she let the next sentence fly, “I believe it’s
called...’friends with benefits?’”
    If he was shocked, he
managed to hide it well. “Friends with benefits,” he repeated.  “I
like the sound of that.”

 
    ***

Chapter Five

Benefits

 
    Sarah didn’t hear
another word from James until Thursday afternoon. What are you doing this
weekend? his text inquired. Sarah found herself shaking her head, but
she was at least used to his propensity to compartmentalize her by now. Clearly
he didn’t fully grasp the “friends” part of the friends with benefits
arrangement. She reviewed her understanding of the relationship: Checking in
from time to time, asking how my day was, finding out if I’m okay. Not making me
feel like a human sex doll. Is that asking too much?  At the present,
however, Sarah was feeling so frisky and wanton that she was willing to
sacrifice formalities to be on the receiving end of some “benefits.” She made a
mental note to him to remind him how he needed to keep up his end of the
arrangement.
    Hmmm, what am I doing
this weekend? she pondered the answer
to his query. She was feeling bold in her reply:  You?
    His reply was immediate: *evil grin*
    Friday was a long day of
lectures and committee meetings. Sarah firmly believed that committee
chairs who scheduled Friday afternoon meetings should have their toenails
violently ripped off and their eyes stabbed with needles, or something equally
and gratuitously tortuous. She was having a hard time sitting still when she
knew there was a bottle of wine chilling in her refrigerator and a black satin
chemise eagerly waiting to slide over her smooth skin. Unfortunately, there was
the start of a headache threatening to toy with her, so she downed a cup of
coffee hoping the caffeine would quell the rumblings of pain. She just needed
to get home, get the kids fed and off to her mom’s and then get ready for him. Come
on Auto Pilot, help me get through this. I’m in survival mode .
    As if she needed any
more distractions, images of James from their first night together persistently
popped into her mind: his smoldering, half-closed eyes; the flickering flame of
the candle highlighting the contours of his chest muscles; his