by AC Netzel
“Are you asking me if I’m a man-whore?” He laughs.
“I suppose I am.” I smile shyly.
“There’s no bullshit with you, is there?”
“No, I guess not. Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s a very good thing. I like that you’re upfront and honest.”
“Are you avoiding my question?” Please say no.
“No,” he answers.
“No, you’re not avoiding my question? Or no, you’re not a man-whore?”
“Both.” He laughs. “I told you, I don’t like things complicated. When I was younger, I played the juggling game, but in my advanced age I’ve learned that one woman at a time is complicated enough.”
“Yes, twenty eight years old, so advanced. You have one foot in the grave already,” I joke.
“Are you asking me this because you want to be with other men?” he asks softly.
“No. Not at all,” I assure him.
“Would it have been a deal breaker for you? If I saw other women?” he asks.
“Yes, I think it would,” I answer honestly.
“Good.”
I tilt my head from side to side, puzzled by his answer. He must sense my confusion as he continues. “I know it’s a contradiction in terms, but for the sake of safe sex, I like to keep it casually exclusive. And if I’m completely truthful… Call me selfish, but I don’t want anyone else touching you while we have something going on. If you want to hang out, I want to be the one you hang out with.”
“Is ‘hang out’ code for have sex?”
“It sure as fuck is,” he snorts with a wicked grin. “There’s chemistry between us. Why would I want to share that? As long as it’s working between us, we’ll go with it. When it doesn’t anymore, we’ll just stay friends.”
“Is that how it worked with your other relationships?”
“Yes. I’ve never lied about what I want or what I have to give. As long as we’re on the same page, I think this could be good for both of us. Are we on the same page?”
“Yes, definitely on the same page,” I answer, relieved.
“Good. Finish your dinner. I know you have no panties on under that skirt and I’d like to hang out with you… soon.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, in a failed attempt to hide my smile. This is everything I hoped for; an incredibly good looking, smart, exclusive fuck buddy. It feels like Christmas. I dig into my vegetable lo-mein. I need to carbo-load. Hanging Out with Ben requires a lot of stored energy.
Once we finish our dinner, Ben hands a fortune cookie to me. We break open our cookies and remove the fortunes inside. Ben reads his fortune out loud. “You are going to get lucky tonight.”
“It does not say that. Let me see.” I try to grab it from him, but he pulls his hand up, holding the fortune away.
“It’s written in Mandarin. I translated it.” He stuffs it in his jeans pocket with a grin.
I unfold my fortune and read it. “Man is only as lucky as Woman allows.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Let me see that.” He reaches out to grab it.
“Sorry, Ben. My fortune is written in Cantonese.” I hold my fortune up in the air. He lunges across to snatch it out of my hand, knocking us both down to the floor.
We’re lying on the floor next to each other, laughing.
“It’s been a shitty few days. I’m so glad you’re here,” he says as he turns to me, gazing into my eyes. I feel the warmth in his sincerity.
“I’m glad I’m here too.” I caress his cheek, his breathing hitches as he briefly closes his eyes. When he opens his eyes, he’s smiling tenderly.
“I think we better get off this floor,” he murmurs, rolling up then stands, extending his hand out to me. I give him one hand, while the other hand protects my modesty by holding down my skirt.
~o0o~
Ben insists on clearing off the table and cleaning up our dirty dishes. Anal Retentive Neat Freak. I would have left them there. I take the opportunity to freshen up in the bathroom. Once I’m done with my pre-sex primping, I walk out of the bathroom and head back to find Ben. I pass a room with a door slightly ajar. There’s a dimly lit desk lamp on. I hadn’t noticed it earlier tonight. This must be where Ben writes.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I quietly walk into the room to see where he crafts the words that come to life in his writing. As I get closer to the desk, it becomes apparent that this is not where he writes. There are magnifying loops and small plastic canisters on the side of the desktop. On the shelves above are dozens of dark green albums and binders, some wrapped in protective clear film, and a ton of books about currencies. There are six wooden cases displaying various coins hanging on the walls.
Holy shit, when he said he collected coins, he wasn’t kidding. This is a numismatist nerd den. Ben is a sneak geek… a coaster using, neat freak, sneak geek. How can a guy that hot do this as a hobby? It’s like I’ve entered an alternate universe where all the High School brainiacs are smoldering and the football players are scrawny nerdlings. There’s a small blue velvet box on the desk, like a jewelry box. I brush my hand over the soft velvet.
“That was the last coin my grandfather purchased for his collection before he died.”
I turn around and Ben is leaning in the doorway.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be in here.” I look down to the floor, embarrassed by my snooping.
“It’s fine.” He walks up to the desk. “Would you like to see it?” he asks quietly.
“Okay, if you want to share it.”
He picks up the box and opens it. “It’s a 1796 25C Draped Bust Quarter.”
“A what?”
“An old quarter.” He chuckles. “It’s very rare. It took him years to locate it. This was before we had the internet at our disposal. Beautiful, isn’t she?” he asks, staring at it wistfully. The front of the coin shows a portrait of a woman with long flowing hair and the word “Liberty” written above her. There are stars circling the coin and 1796 at the bottom.
“Yes, it is,” I agree.
“It’s quite valuable. It should be in my safe. I was thinking of my grandfather when my grandmother was hospitalized and took it out to look at. My grandmother made sure his coin collection was passed down to me when he died. It’s very special to me.”
“Well, I’m honored you’re sharing it with me.” I curtsy.
“You mean after I found you nosing around in here?”
I laugh nervously. “Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spy. I thought this was where you wrote.”
“And you wanted to spy on my writing?”
“I wanted to see where you work. I can’t explain it. The creative process fascinates me.” I look up at the shelves. “I recognize those albums. One of my brothers had one like that to collect State Quarters. He never finished his collection. He err….”
“Thought it was boring?”
“Yes, you have to admit. It’s kind of geeky.”
“I don’t think so. Coins can be very seductive.”
“I think you’re stretching it.”
“I’ll show you.” He pulls out his chair and sits, tapping his hand on his knee. “Have a seat.”
I sit on his lap. The closeness to him and the fact that my bare butt is rubbing against him is going to drive me crazy. I already feel the familiar tingling. I look down at my camisole and see my nipples are already standing at attention through the fabric. There is no hiding my state of arousal.
“You know, Julia, there are plenty of women who get turned on by coins.”
“Yeah, when you spend those coins on them.” I roll my eyes. “I remember you said you collected coins when you were a kid, why do you still collect?”
“It appeals to my alpha male side, the thrill of the hunt. I get a rush when I locate a coin I’ve been searching for.” He opens a desk drawer, pulls out a wooden box and places it on his desk. Then grabs a pair of eyeglasses out of the drawer and puts them on.
“You wear
glasses?” I ask.
“Only to look closely at the coins.”
Damn, Ben in glasses is hot. Naughty professor kind of hot.
He opens the box and there are six old coins inside. I look down at them and my mouth gapes open.
“Are they doing what I think they’re doing?” I ask incredulously.
Ben laughs. “Yes, they’re having sex. They’re Spintriae, Roman sex coins, or tokens. Some believe they used the coins in brothels. One side shows the act you want; the other shows the cost of said act. There’s debate among some scholars as to what they really are. There are a few coins that have some man on man action, a little something for everyone.” He winks.
Holy Shit. There are men and women in several different sexual positions. In one, a woman is collared and is about to get it doggie style. There’s a blow job coin. Oh my God, an actual blow job is depicted on a coin. Erect penis and all. This is crazy. Another coin has the female riding the male and another has the male giving it to the female. They’re erotic as hell.
“Are these real?”
“No, they’re replicas. The only replicas I own. I couldn’t pass up owning them. For obvious reasons.” He smiles slyly as he takes off his glasses, placing them back in the desk drawer.
“The Ancient Romans were a bunch of pervs.”
“Apparently,” he says as he slides his hand under my skirt and gently rubs the side of my ass.
“I didn’t realize you were of Roman descent.” I smirk.
“Just my hands,” he coos, as he moves his hands from under my skirt to under my camisole, cupping my breasts over my bra. “You have perfect breasts. Perfect,” he whispers.
I lean back into his body, close my eyes and savor his touch. He could feel me up all night, and I think I’d be satisfied. He slides his hands out from under my top and stands up from the chair, taking me up with him. He turns me around until I’m facing him with my back to the desk. With one arm, he clears the coins to the side. He lifts me up and sits me down onto the desk.
He sinks to the floor onto his knees, spreading my legs open and pushes up my skirt.
“Do you have any idea how hot you look in these stockings and boots?” he asks as he runs his hand up my inner thigh.
I shake my head slowly, licking my lips. Every inch of my body wants him.
“If you wear this in front of me at work again, I don’t give a shit if Vivian is there or not, I’m going to fuck you on her desk. Do you understand?” He runs a finger down my sex.
“Mmm,” I groan.
“Is that a yes?” He licks the inside of my folds, expertly swirling his tongue around my clit.
“Mmm.” My back arches up as my hands grip the edge of the desk.
“Good. I want you in my bed. Now.” He stands and holds his hand out to me to help me up. My nerve endings are a quivering mess. I’m so close to an orgasm, and he’s hardly touched me. His tongue is magic.
He snatches the box of Roman coins off his desk and holds it out to me.
“Pick one. What do you want tonight?” A sexy smile plays on his lips.
“This one.” I point to the coin of the woman on top of the man.
“So, you want to take charge? We can work with that.” He wraps his hand around my waist. His lips capture mine with a hungry urgency in a long, passionate kiss. We break from our kiss; he grasps my hand and starts to walk out of the room. “This way.”
I hesitate, holding his hand tight.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
If Ben were an actual boyfriend, I wouldn’t let him see this side of me, just yet anyway. But since our relationship is based on fun and sex, I’m going for it. “Um… do you think you could wear your glasses?” I ask quietly, pointing to his desk drawer.
“In the bedroom?”
I nod slowly. I know I’m blushing, but I don’t care, he looks damn sexy in those glasses.
“I can.” He opens the desk drawer and takes out his glasses. “Any other requests?” he asks with his brow arched, clearly amused.
“Just one. Can I call you Professor Martin tonight?”
He laughs. “Julia, you can call me whatever the fuck you want.” He lightly swats my ass. “Bedroom, Miss Conti. Now.”
I jump, laughing. “Yes, Professor.”
Chapter 8
“Any plans with Casual Ben tonight?” Allie asks while shoving a piece of cinnamon roll in her mouth.
“I guess not. I haven’t heard from him since Wednesday night. His grandmother is ill. He may be with her. I don’t know.”
“Marcello, Peter and I are celebrating the fact that it’s Friday. We’re meeting at that new Korean barbeque restaurant on Thirty-Fourth Street. It’s supposed to be fantastic. Why don’t you come along?”
“Thanks, but I’m backlogged with manuscripts. I’m going to stay in, read, and relax tonight. I’m pretty tired anyway.”
“Ah yes, that midweek sexcathalon tired you out. Casual Ben must have some skills. Two days later and you’re still exhausted.”
I sigh, ignoring Allie’s statement. I grab my bag and coat. “That’s my cue to go to work. I’ll see you when you get home. Say hello to the guys for me.”
“Text me if you change your mind.”
“I won’t, but thanks.”
~o0o~
The work day is dragging. There’s not enough coffee in New York to keep me awake today. I’m twenty four, for crying out loud, one midweek late nighter shouldn’t make me this tired. I really need to get out more often. I could always join a gym and build up some stamina. Pfftt…yeah right. File that under “When pigs fly.”
Maybe I should meet up with Allie and the guys. I’m sure Peter would appreciate the company. Allie and Marcello are cut from the same cloth. The two of them together is a ton of fun, but absolutely exhausting.
I have a stupid grin on my face as I think back to two days ago. I’ve never role-played before, but playing the college co-ed to a very hot Professor Martin in his glasses was wickedly arousing—especially when Professor Martin assigned an oral exam. It’s funny now, but I wanted to kill him when he hid my panties he found in the wicker basket in the hall bathroom. It took a lot of sexual negotiating to get them back. Ben always makes things exhilarating, sexy, and fun.
I was hoping I’d hear from him today. I know, I know… I shouldn’t have any expectations. But it is Friday. Isn’t that some sort of internationally recognized night for sex? I’m pretty sure it’s an unwritten rule. I could always send him a text, but I’m not ready. I still get panicky making the first move. I guess I’m afraid of feeling rejected if he says no. I’ll get there… someday.
Maybe he’s helping out his grandmother. But how late can a rehab facility stay open? They have to kick him out at some point, don’t they? I suppose taking care of an older relative can suck the life out of him. I hope nothing else is sucking him. Stop it Julia! He said he isn’t seeing anyone else. I have to trust that he’s being truthful about that.
Maybe he’s with his clingy “friend” Cam-eel. God, I hope not. There’s something about that woman-hater that rubs me the wrong way. There’s not much I can do about it, even if he is with her… I have no say in his friends. I have no say in his everyday life. I have a little say in his sex life. I do like that…I like that part a lot. I would never admit it to Allie, but she’s right… Ben has some damn fine skills. I suppose I’m getting what I bargained for.
I grab a stack of papers off my desk and poke my nose in Vivian’s office. “Have a good weekend, Vivian. I’m leaving for the day.”
“Are those manuscripts you’re holding?” she asks, her eyes peeking over her glasses.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad to see you take your work seriously, but please enjoy your weekend. You’re twenty-four, no kids, no mortgage, no stretch marks, and a metabolism that still works. Trust me; enjoy it while you still can. One day, you’ll be sitting in my seat and you won’t have the time, the figure or the energy to have fun.”
~o0o~
As I’m walking to the subway station, I can’t help but smile as I pass by Emilio’s Café. The last time I was here with Ben, he took me back to my apartment and gave me that swoon-worthy back of the hand kiss. I never thought we’d end up… Well, wherever we are now.
I’m almost at the station when I look down and spot a penny on the ground. Normally, I’d walk past it. But visions of Ben’s coin room pop into my mind and I pick it up. I have no idea if it’s a common coin or some rare find. If I give it to him, would he think it’s clingy? Oh please, he’s got the Queen of Clingy attaching herself to his side and he doesn’t notice it. I doubt he’ll read much into a penny find. I’ll start a coin jar and let him go through it, when I get the nerve to fess up.
Once I’m back in the Village, I decide to indulge myself in a weekend treat. I stop off at Clara’s Cupcake Shoppe. This has to be the most dangerous place in all of New York City. The size of my thighs increases just by walking through the door. It’s soooo worth it. Vivian is always reminding me to take advantage of the fact that my metabolism still works, before, as she likes to put it, “You have a kid and he sucks all the thin out of you.”
The line is long, but I don’t care. One decadent cupcake with too much sugary sweet frosting piled high with colorful sprinkles is food for the soul. As I’m looking up at the menu board above the display cases, there’s a sudden chill in the air. I get a spine tingling feeling someone is staring at me. I hate that feeling. Slowly, I turn around.
Shit. Cam-eel. Why does she have to live in my neighborhood? I groan to myself.
“Judy, isn’t it?” she asks. I know she knows my name. This is part of her girl hating game.
“It’s Julia.” You Bitch. “Camille, right?’
“Yes.” She smiles. Her teeth are so white, too white. I bet they glow in the dark. Someone really needs to lay off the teeth bleach.
I nod. Well, this is awkward. A polite conversation with one of Ben’s former sex partners feels strange and uncomfortable. I know I should be all cool and adult about it, but the truth is I hate it. I don’t know if I’m made for this sort of civilized exchange. I want to act like an adult, but the irrational jealous bitch inside of me wants to scratch her eyes out. I hate that she knows him intimately and they still hang out. But I’m not a girlfriend; I’m his good-time girl, so I have no real say in the matter.