by Brandy Ayers
Pride swells in my chest as Marci laughs out loud. It’s the same laugh my Uncle pulled out of her just minutes ago, but there's an added breathlessness to it that has my cock practically knocking at my zipper to be let out. Could this easy going, insightful woman be who Marci is? Was my first impression of her wrong?
“True.” Marci glances at the notebook before her, writes a few notes, then continues with a new question. “You have a variety of men in your class, and undoubtedly a variety of women at home waiting for them. How can you teach men to pleasure women without knowing what they are going home to? I’m sure you’ve discovered in your time as a dating aged man that not all women reach orgasm in the same way.”
Halfway through her question, I’m already nodding. It’s a good question, one I had to ask myself before ever starting my class. “The focus of the class is more on making sure the guys know how to find out what their women want, that they need to think of her needs as a priority over their own urges. That, along with a little anatomy, some tricks I’ve picked up through both experience and reading, go a long way to making them better lovers. A sex columnist I follow came up with the three Gs years ago, and it is something that I teach my classes and follow in my own life.” Holding up my fist, I extend one finger. “Couples need to be Good…” I put up another finger, and I swear Marci’s eyes heat, and she swallows while staring at my larger than average digits. “Giving…” Up goes my third finger, and her eyes become a little hooded. “And Game in the bedroom.”
“So, you aren’t teaching these men that they all need to be gentle lovers in the bedroom?” The way she says the question, I know she’s asking for more than just her article. I can practically see the scenes playing out behind her eyes. She wants to know if I’m always a gentle lover.
My resolve to keep this professional is quickly crumbling, and my own weakness is pissing me off. But damn if I can stop myself from giving her exactly what she’s looking for. “No. I teach them to give women what they want in bed. If she wants a gentle lover, wants to be romanced and made love to for hours, they should do that. If she wants to be pinned against the wall and fucked within an inch of her life, he should accommodate that desire to the best of his ability. And if she wants to be draped over his knee and her ass spanked while her high heels fall off her stockinged feet, he should damn well do that too. If she wants all that on different nights of the week, he should give it to her anyway she wants.”
Chapter Five
Marci
If I were a cartoon character, right now my tongue would be rolling out on the table before us like a red-carpet welcoming Micah to my body. There would be hearts bulging out of my eyes, and steam coming out of my ears, and a big bubble floating over us with the words YES PLEASE blinking inside.
Everything he just said? The sweet and tender, the wall banging, the spanking. I want all of it.
Like, now.
It doesn’t escape my notice that he specifically noted the heels and stockings in that spanking scenario. Is he talking about me? Does he want to spank me? Am I into that? Because suddenly, the crotch of my panties is soaked to the point of dripping.
I swallow, trying like hell to gather my sensibilities. I’m a strong-ass woman with a career and goals and a fantastic fucking vibrator at home. I should not be this affected by his words. But taking in the large man across from me, it’s obvious he’s affected too. His chest is rising and falling dramatically with his heavy breathes. His whole body is leaning forward now, across the table in an almost predatory way.
In a weird twist of events, I’m not thinking about my own needs or wants. I’m thinking about his. What does he like in bed?
“So, is sex all about the woman then? Shouldn’t the man’s”—I glance down to the table hiding his bulge, wondering if he is as hard as I am wet— “desires be taken into account?”
Micah smirks, just this slight upturn on one side of his mouth that lets me know he saw my glance down to his family jewels. “Well, in my experience, the man’s desires are never the ones being ignored or hidden. Men have no problem making known what they want and expecting to get it. It is one of the greatest assets and greatest flaws of our half of the species.”
“You’ve never been shy to tell a woman what you want out of her in bed?” I must admit; this conversation is intriguing me just as much as it is turning me on.
When it comes to sex, I’ve never been terribly outspoken, which is weird considering how outspoken I am in literally every other part of my life. I’ve never asked a man to do something specific in bed. I didn’t want him to think he was doing something wrong I suppose. Or didn’t want to come off being pushy.
“Never. But if we’re talking about me specifically, the thing that gets my motor going is a woman’s pleasure. I live for the moment I hit the right spot, do the right thing to turn her to liquid right in my hands. Whatever it is that gets my partner there, is okay by me, as long as she gets there. Often.”
“Wow.”
“Doctor Ooooooo.” The door swings open with a thud against the wall, and the slightly annoying student from earlier in the week saunters in with a big grin on his face. Since I don't know any of the students’ real names, I’ve started giving some of them nicknames, just to keep them straight in my own mind and my article. I named this guy Iago after the loud annoying bird in Aladdin. “You, my friend, are a genius.”
Micah and I both spring back in our seats, and it isn’t until the moment our little bubble bursts that I realize how close we had drifted. Both of us had been practically climbing the table as we talked. My face is burning hot, and I have no doubt my cheeks are redder than the hypothetical ass Micah had been spanking in my imagination.
For his part, Micha recovers much quicker. Though I do notice he keeps his seat as the men for class slowly trickle in.
“I took your advice, man, did your homework assignment. Best homework ever.” Iago takes a seat next to me as I gather my things to move to the back row of the classroom. “Last night, I got home from work before my wife. Normally, I’d pop a beer and sit on the couch until she came home to make dinner. Instead, I made dinner. Wasn’t much, just one of those freezer lasagna deals, opened a bagged salad. Wifey walks into a set table with dinner almost done and looked at me like I’d been abducted by aliens. She got to go up and take a bath while I got the kids from the babysitter next door, and after dinner, I made the kids cleanup for her and took care of getting them all to bed while she went up to read a book. She damn near knocked me over the minute I stepped foot in our bedroom.”
Another man reaches over the table, and they high-five each other. What is with guys and high-fives? No matter how old they get, they’re still high-fiving each other like they just scored the winning point in a basketball game.
Finally, Micah stands from his seated position where we had been talking. I try to stop, I really do, but I automatically look right at his crotch, and I’m pretty sure there is some swelling going on there that hadn’t been there before.
“That sounds like a great thing you did for your lady. How about the second half of the assignment? You said she pounced on you. Did you make her the focus of the sex?” Micah’s eyes dart back to me. “Did you come?”
“I followed your instructions to the T. Went down on her until she damn near passed out from my skills.” The guy turns back to me, mischief written all over his face. “Don’t mean to offend, miss.”
I shake my head and laugh. If he thinks this kind of talk is going to embarrass me, he’s never sat in on a pitch meeting for a women’s magazine.
“But man, I’ve got blue balls like you wouldn’t believe. Please tell me I can go all the way tonight.” He plasters his palms together, praying to his leader Micah for permission.
“That is up to you. I’m not going to give you a directive either way.” Micah goes around to the other side of the table at the front that he uses as a desk and looks to the rest of the now seated class. “How about the rest of you? H
ow’d you do with your homework?”
They go around the room, talking about what they did for the various women in their lives. Some admit they didn’t get the reaction they wanted to from their partners, but that they could see whatever they did lightened the load on their wives or girlfriends. The big surprise is the slightly shy virgin from the first class. I look back at my notes and remember that I started referring to him as simply V.
“What about you? I know you are in a slightly different situation than the rest of these guys, but were you able to do something for the girl you’ve been seeing?” Micah strolls over to the side of the room where V sits and half sits, half leans against the table there.
“Um, yeah. She’s really into art, which isn’t exactly my thing. I took her to a showing last night, and then we went to a dance club even though I’m a horrible dancer.” His whole face turns red, and I immediately know things went very well for him after the date.
“And what was her reaction?” Iago asks.
V looks down at the table, but his mouth goes stiff, like he’s trying to resist smiling. “She said none of the guys she’s dated have ever planned a date like that for her before. She taught me how to dance enough so that I didn’t look like an idiot. Then when I took her home, she pulled me into the apartment, and um, I asked her to teach me how she liked to be touched. And she um, showed me. While I watched.”
The entire class erupts in whistles, and several men reach over their tables to give V a slap on the back.
“I did fail one part of the assignment though.” The kid actually looks upset that he didn’t follow the rules, like he might get kicked out of the class or something. “I tried to stop her, but she was really into it, and um, she went down on me while I did her, and I couldn’t stop myself. Sorry.”
“Dude, you got some sixty-nine action last night? Goddamn, I haven’t done that in years. Adding that to the agenda for after the kids go back to bed.” Iago smiles and leans back in his chair, obviously picturing the magic he is going to work later that night.
“Don’t worry about failing that part of the assignment. It sounds like she wanted you to feel just as much pleasure as she did and giving her that is great.”
Once the conversation on the homework dies down, Micah returns to his spot at the front of the classroom. “Okay, so if you looked at your packet of information, today’s lesson is called How to get her to say yes every time. It might be easy to mistake what today is actually about. What it isn’t about is learning how to convince your women how to say yes to sex when she has already said no.”
Micah looks back at me and quirks an eyebrow, obviously remembering the questions from our first interview. I shrug, because I already apologized, and we’ve moved on now, which makes him smile.
“No, this is where we start to get down to the nitty gritty of a woman’s anatomy and the spots to hit to give her the maximum amount of pleasure.” Micah goes back to the projector he'd been messing with on Tuesday, which I just happen to be sitting directly next to.
His arm brushes against my shoulder, and I will my body not to shudder under that slight touch. Just as he passes me, the faintest whiff of mint, wood, and pure male follows him. I wrap my legs around the base of the chair to prevent myself from following that smell. I want to rub around in a pile of his clothes to get it all over my body.
My panties are uncomfortably wet, but I try to ignore all the lust raging through me and focus in on what he says. One of the students gets up to turn off the lights, and Micah powers up the projector. “Okay, don’t worry, guys. This isn’t going to be like your high school health classes.”
A slide of a drawing of a woman’s… ummm…region pops up on the screen. And Micah is right. It looks nothing like the smooth undetailed drawings that we were shown in high school and made me wonder if I was a freak because I didn’t look like that down there. No, this drawing shows folds, openings, hair, and everything.
“First, if you haven’t become acquainted with it yet, please God, each of you follow me as I show you exactly where a woman’s clitoris is.” Micah pulls out a little laser pointer pen and points to the little button women love and men often ignore.
I try to pay attention to the lesson, but when you already know the female anatomy, because you happen to occupy said anatomy, and there is a hot as hell double doctorate lumberjack look alike behind you, it tends to make it hard to focus on anything. He’s so close to the back of my chair that his body heat singes the back of my very thin blouse.
When I walked in earlier, I didn’t miss the lust in his eyes. I’m not saying that’s why I wore this outfit. But I’m not saying it isn’t either. The truth is, I know I messed up with him earlier this week. Chalk it up to an over inflated sense of importance on my part, a shitty day since my pitches all got shot down, or just thinking I knew everything when I obviously don’t, but I was flat out a bitch.
That knowledge had been in the back of my head while I got dressed this afternoon. I’m glad he called me on my bull shit, because it made me take a look at myself. Or rather my embarrassment did. The awards for my writing, the job, and maybe a little bit of the company I keep has been rubbing off on me. And I don’t like it.
So, I am making a change. No more Lacy. No more clubbing, I hate it anyway. No more going to interviews for stories I’m not excited about without thoroughly researching first, just like I would for the stories I am pumped about.
For the past two days, my own stupidity has been stuck in an echo chamber inside my head. I just keep hearing all the stuck up, presumptuous things I said over and over again. Every time, I cringe and turn red from head to toe.
Unfortunately, it seems he hasn’t forgotten about those things either, because right after all that lust in his eyes, was disappointment and a little anger. Which kills me. But I swear, I can change his mind. The air crackled around us before class. I can’t imagine what would happen if we actually found our way to touching each other. But I’m going to find out. Because you don’t let a hot as hell double doctorate lumberjack look alike pleasure expert get away unless you’re a complete idiot.
Which I’m not.
Chapter Six
Micah
The guys file out, all chatting about the class and their homework. Which is to play a version of twenty questions I came up with for my marriage counseling clients. Communication is everything in a relationship, and this game helps to open communication up a little more, while having fun. They can do it in bed, out at dinner, over a bottle of wine, whatever. But it should get them laughing and talking.
True, these guys didn’t come here for marriage counseling, but they came here because there is a problem they wanted to fix. That problem, their wives and girlfriends not being satisfied in bed, is rooted in communication. As far as I’m concerned, it is never too early to start doing these things in a serious, monogamous relationship. Couples shouldn’t wait until they are on the verge of hating each other and wanting out. They should work on their relationship from day one.
Twenty questions isn’t a new thing in couples’ therapy, but my version is different than most.
Just as the last guy leaves the room, Marci saunters those sexy as sin curvy hips up the aisle between the tables. The struggle to keep my eyes firmly planted on her face and not go roaming all over her body is no joke. But I teach a damn class that focuses on respecting women and listening to their needs, so I would be a hypocrite of the highest order to ogle her like a teenage boy. But I want to. Bad.
“So, do I get to see these twenty questions, or are they top secret sex guru tools?” She leans against the table with one hip, crossing her legs so the skirt rides up her thigh just a little bit. Is there one more button undone on her blouse than before, or is it just me?
“I wouldn’t call myself a sex guru. Just a psychologist who doesn’t dismiss the importance of sex and sexual gratification in a relationship.” My eyes dip down to her pouty mouth, a little of whatever lip color she wore today l
ingers there, but not much. Briefly, I wonder if I could kiss the rest off. Just as quickly, I snap my eyes back to hers. This is the same woman as on Tuesday, even if she is being nicer, and flirtier. “But, of course, you can have the list of questions. I actually thought you could run them in the magazine, kind of a bonus for your readers.”
Marci lights up at the idea, and I hold out the plastic baggie of notecards to her. A spark rushes up my arm as her fingers brush mine, and I will myself to hold still. To not flinch at the heat which spreads from that small touch.
“That is a great idea. And I have an even better idea. Why don't we play this game together?” She taps the cards against her chin, regarding me with curious, wild eyes.
Damn. I should say no. Those questions go into some very personal things. Private things. Things I haven’t told anyone since I’ve never been with a woman long enough to go that deep. I start to shake my head, but at the first sign of my answer, she starts in with trying to convince me.
“Oh, come on. I’ll answer all the questions too. Don’t tell me you're afraid to open up to a woman.”
It’s no secret what she’s trying to do here. Goad me into playing the game. It won’t work. I’m the king of mind games. I have actual degrees in mind games.
“Those questions are meant for couples. It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to—”
“It would really bring my article to life. Please?”
Fuck. It’s the please that does it. A beautiful woman saying please is my kryptonite. Something about it just gets up my inner caveman who wants to throw her over my shoulder and provide for my woman. But Marci isn’t my woman. She’s a reporter who had been out to get me from the start of this whole thing. I can’t forget that. Hell, she could still be trying to write the slam piece she had set out to.
But something tells me she isn’t. And the truth is, I’m very curious about her answers to these questions.