Dear Delilah (Hudson U)

by T. Bester

  19

  SAVANNAH

  “CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING?”

  Nathan stops what he's doing and looks at me, sweat lining his forehead. He's busy painting the walls of a house him and Brian just finished fixing up and I decided to keep him company. Zoey is teaching her toddler ballet class at the dance center and Erin is on a date with Brian.

  “Of course.” Nathan dips his roller in a fresh coat of paint for the wall, his muscles flexing beneath the surface of his skin. Damn, he looks good doing manual labor. He winks when he catches me, and I clear my throat, diverting my gaze back to my laptop screen. There's a purpose to this conversation that does not include mentally undressing him. Ever since my chat with Zoey, I've been thinking more and more about turning Dear Delilah into a column. I'm not sure if that was Toby’s eventual intention, to make it more than just answering letters about sex, but the more I think about it, the more it appeals to me. I'm by no means a writer, but there's a satisfaction in writing responses that are real and honest and it's made me wander if I'd be able to write more. And aside from Zoey and Erin, I feel as though it's something I can talk to Nathan about too. Sex aside, I've always felt I can talk to him about what's on my mind and our level of intimacy has only strengthened the ease with which we talk. I have more confidence with him. With myself.

  “What does sex feel like for a guy?”

  I’ve been thinking about it. It’s easy to describe how I feel, what’s going on through my mind, or whether the physical sensations are so overpowering that I’m not thinking much at all.

  “Is this a letter?”

  “No, I was just wondering.”

  He chuckles. “You’ve become a lot more curious, Sav. I like it.”

  I look away, and start fiddling with my braid. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all,” he replies. “If you’re not curios you’ll never learn.”

  “So, will you tell me what it feels like?”

  “Well, it’s never the same,” he says, dipping his roller, and placing it on the wall. “Sometimes it’s just physical, and sometimes your body and your mind are both connected. I guess it depends who you’re with.”

  “Does that really make a difference?” It feels like a silly question to ask, but surely if sex is just sex, then it should feel the same every time, right? If I were to sleep with someone who isn’t Nathan, would I not still feel the same way I do when I’m with him?

  “It does. Guys don’t necessarily have sex with someone with the intent of creating a meaningful connection, it’s satisfying an intrinsic need and nothing more.”

  “But how do you not get attached to the person you’re with? Is it really that easy for you to separate sex and emotion?”

  “If you go into it knowing it won’t be more, then yes. But if you’re with someone you really like, someone you think you can have more with, then no, it’s not always easy or even possible to separate them. We feel what you feel Sav, guy or girl, despite what you may think.”

  He puts the roller down, and wipes his brow before joining me on the floor. “Sex is about asserting power for us, we are taught that sex is one of the ultimate acts of masculinity.” He opens the picnic basket I brought, and takes out some food, courtesy of Zoey. “Back in the day, a man’s success in life was closely linked to his ability to reproduce and the more children he had, the more virile he was. Enjoying it came later,” he winks, and adds, “no pun intended.”

  I snicker, and shake my head. He’s insufferable. But I’m wholly intrigued by his answer.

  “So is it always about getting that release, or is it about more than that?”

  “Again, it depends who you’re with. Sex in a committed relationship, or even a friends-with-benefits type of set-up, can be just as intense for us as it is for you, we worry about how you feel, what’s going through your mind, how we look. You’re not the only one worried about looking good naked, Sav. I worry about what you think of me too. Believe it or not.”

  That surprises me. Nathan is the epitome of a confident man, strong and lithe and he takes care of his body. It’s quite nice to look at, actually. All hard lines, and smooth skin and taut muscles. My belly dips. Hoo boy.

  “I want you to feel good when we’re together,” he adds, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. “You’re my first priority.”

  My smile is wide, and my belly flips wildly with butterflies and warmth. “I actually wanted to ask you something else…” I feel my body get hot all over, a blush of my own stretching across my skin, up my neck. “There’s this thing you do,” I swallow, getting flustered just thinking about it, “when we’re..uh…you know...” God, you’d think after having sex with Nathan multiple times I’d be used to talking about the things he does in bed. “You wait for me to…before you…” I’m not wording this properly, but when Nathan smiles, an indulgent glint in his eye, I know he gets what I’m trying to say.

  “It’s called edging,” he chuckles. “Like orgasm control.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Because it intensifies everything for me,” he replies, shameless and yet also shy. “And I kind of like watching you. Sometimes I get distracted at work or in class thinking about it.”

  I have to admit that there’s something incredibly sexy about watching him too. It makes me feel powerful, and feminine, to watch his body respond to mine on a physical level that can become rather addictive.

  “Me too,” I giggle. “I think Zoey is getting tired of me staring off into space mid-conversation, she almost always knows I’m thinking about you.”

  He wipes his hands, and then stretches out his legs. I take the chance to straddle him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Are you expecting Brian again tonight?”

  “No,” he shakes his head. I slowly lift his shirt over his head, tracing the lines of his neck, his shoulders, his shoulder blades. When I bring my palms to his waist he sucks in a breath, his silver eyes flashing with a fire so bright I want to dive head-first into the flames right alongside him until there is nothing left of us. What surfaces is more than desire, ore than the urge to satisfy the need inside me that he has awakened. I can’t name it though, except to say that it’s consuming, and big, and loud and as profound as the sensation of ghosting fingertips over naked flesh. “Is Zoey home yet?”

  “No, she’s teaching her first dance class and won’t be home for another hour or so.” Nathan’s hands move up my back, and my skin breaks out in goosebumps, the feel of his rough fingertips a heady contrast to my supple flesh. I lean down, ready to kiss him until I can no longer breathe. “So, your place or mine?” I ask, drawn to him.

  He gives me a wolfish grin, and it makes my insides curl with austerity and longing.

  “Right here’s fine.”

  He locks our mouths together, and I’m falling, falling, falling.

  NATHAN WINCES AND glares at the doctor on call, while I try my best to keep a straight face. Kind of difficult considering the kind of position we’re in. Well, the kind of position he’s in.

  “Damnit,” he grunts. “Can you not be so rough with my dick?”

  I smother a laugh, and he shoots his glare in my direction.

  “Mr. Penn,” says the Doctor. “Can you tell me how this happened?” He bends down and moves Nathan’s hospital gown out the way. Luckily, when we explained the situation, they got us a room with a curtain. “This is not uncommon when a man gets overstimulated during masturbation.” If he weren’t in so much pain, I would find the fact that he’s blushing extremely sexy, but the poor guy is not happy and it’s partly my fault.

  “I was not masturbating.” Nathan grunts while the Doctor pokes around down south. “We were, uh…”

  “It was me,” I tell the Doctor. “I got a little too,” I search for a word that won’t make my face go purple, but it’s already there so I go with, “enthusiastic. We were trying a new position.”

  I was on top, and leaned too far back — one minute I was screaming, and
the next, so was Nathan.

  “It doesn’t seem to be fractured.” The Doctor stands and whips off his gloves. “But you do have penile bruising due to hyperextension of the penis, Mr. Penn. I’m afraid that means you’ll have to abstain from any stimulation for at least four to five days, until the swelling goes down.” He throws a disapproving look my way. “I’ll be right back.”

  He disappears behind the curtain, and Nathan slowly sits down, cursing as he tries to find a semi-comfortable position. “God, I think that guy had fun making my squirm. He kept touching my balls.”

  I snicker, and stand from my spot, leaning against the bed at his side. “You know, when I said ‘your place or mine’ this is not what I had in mind.”

  “Me neither.” His face is drawn tight. “It’s not your fault though, Sav.” A loud puff of air leaves his mouth. “It was my idea.”

  My cheeks are flushed, and talking about this makes me crazy uncomfortable, but maybe if I’d paid better attention to what I was doing, he wouldn’t be here. With a bruised pecker.

  I cover my mouth with my hand, and Nathan’s scowl depends. “Oh my God,” I cry. “I’m sorry, Nate, I shouldn’t be laughing but…” I shake my head. I shouldn’t find this so amusing but I can’t help it. Of all the things I’ve been wanting to write about since talking to Zoey, a sex injury didn’t quite make the list and I didn’t know it even existed until Nathan and I found ourselves in the E.R trying to explain why he was on the verge of crying.

  I’m still snickering like a school girl when a nurse interrupts us. “Mr. Penn.” She smiles, and her eyes immediately travel down. “The Doctor has given you some ibuprofen and recommended that you ice your penis.”

  “Thanks,” he grumbles.

  “And,” she looks between the two of us, “if you have any problems in a few days, you can make an appointment with the Urologist.”

  I stop laughing. “What kind of problems?”

  “Well, if you see any blood in your urine, if you experience a permanent erection or if the swelling doesn’t go down.” This woman deserves an Oscar for her straight face. “And if you experience any more pain, of course.”

  “How long do I need to rest?” Nathan tries to pull his jeans back on, but when he struggles, he gives up and demands the nurse get him a pair of scrubs.

  “No sex for at least five days,” the nurse replies, looking at me. “And no other kind of stimulation that will cause a sudden rush of blood to the shaft.”

  “Great.” Nathan hobbles past her. “Whoopdifuckingdoo.”

  “So,” I walk alongside him towards the exit. “Your place or mine?”

  He glowers at me. “Not funny, Sav. Seriously.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Do you want me to take you home?”

  “Please.” I turn on my heel but Nathan grabs my hand. “But, I want you to stay with me.”

  “Are you sure you want me to? You’re here because of me.” Despite the humor in the situation, I feel guilty that he got hurt.

  “No, I’m here because we got carried away.” He moves closer to me, but rather than give me a sexy, come hither smile, his face scrunches up.

  “I’ll drive you home,” I tell him.

  “And give me a sponge bath?”

  “Yes, you big baby,” I giggle. “I’ll give you a sponge bath.”

  20

  SAVANNAH

  ON FRIDAY MORNING, I bounce into the office. It’s been five days since Nathan’s accident, which means he’s been out of ‘action’ and I’ve been left to my own devices as far as Dear Delilah goes. Rather than wait around for the next letter, I decided to play around with a few other ideas, including sex injuries that no one knew even existed. Nathan wasn’t happy about that one, but only because he was still wholly embarrassed. Luckily, he didn’t hold it against me. I also wrote about the benefits of being friends-with-benefits, and how to successfully distinguish between ‘friends-with-benefits’ and ‘no strings attached’. I have yet to receive a letter asking about it, but it piqued my interest when we’ve had to spend five days just hanging out, and sleeping in separate beds. I didn’t think I’d become so accustomed to having him with me at night, or the way my bed feels when he’s next to me. It is kind of scary, to be dependent on a person’s presence during an ordinary day and feel like something’s missing when you don’t see them. So it made me wonder about other people who have the same kind of relationship, and whether they worry about getting attached or if they can sever the ties when feelings change or develop.

  Much to my own surprise, it turns out to be my most popular post, with ‘the sex injuries you didn’t know existed’ coming in at a close second, and it only serves to bolster my confidence. But, Delilah has tonight off, and I can’t say I’m not excited to have Nathan all to myself. It’s been the longest week imaginable.

  “Someone’s excited,” chimes Erin. She finds me in the bathroom washing my hands, and grins at me through the reflection of the mirror. “Big night, huh.”

  I laugh, and shake my head, unable to stop the way my mouth twists into a smile. “Just another Friday night,” I reply. “Movies, dinner-"

  “And some good ole fashioned sax.” Erin does a little shimmy. “No letters, no posts about bruised peens…”

  “Shhh, not so loud.” It comes out as more of a giggle than an admonishment. “These walls have ears.”

  “Oh please,” she waves me off. “Just about everyone is already gone for the day.” With her hips against the sink, she regards me with an amusement that makes me squirm, like she can see my anticipation written all over my face. Hell, I feel like I have a giant neon sign flashing above my head that reads I’m getting laid tonight. But it’s more than that, more than just the idea of feeling him again, touching him, holding him. It’s about how things have changed in the last few weeks, how having him help me with Dear Delilah has changed the way I see myself, the way I see him, the way I see us. Sure, it’s still new, and I have my work cut out for me if I’m legitimately going to make a run of it, but being with Nathan has made me want it, and not just because he’s a pretty good partner either. I’m learning, I’m growing and I’m discovering things about myself that never would have mattered before I had to write about it. And admittedly, it’s not just about the sex, but about the connection, to my own body, to Nathan’s’. I was impervious to the real meaning of intimacy until he came along, and what it means to be tethered to another person in the most personal way. I also didn’t understand the true meaning of vulnerability, not only with him but with myself. In a society plagued by superficial labels and illogical expectations, its easy to shy away from what we feel, and what we want, but when I’m with Nathan, I don’t shy away from what frightens me, or leaves me exposed. And in the end, that’s what liberates me, what sets me free from my own limitations and the things I feel I should not want.

  “So, you going to tell me what you have planned, or leave me hanging here?”

  I’m so caught up in my own thoughts, it takes Erin’s voice and her teasing tone to bring me back. “Like I said, movies, dinner…nothing special.”

  “The look on her face says otherwise,” she laughs. “Good thing Brian and I are dragging Zoey out tonight, I don’t think she wants to be around when you jump her big brother.”

  “I’m not going to jump him.” I dry my hands. “But I’ll be glad for the privacy, and I think Zoey needs a night out. I’ve been worried about her lately.”

  Erin sighs. “Yeah, me too. Hopefully she won’t kill Griffin while we’re out though, those two are forever at each other’s throats.”

  I roll my eyes. “I swear, they’re secretly attracted to each other, and unfortunately I can’t complain, considering I’ve been sleeping with her brother just to write about it.”

  “We both know that’s not the only reason.” Erin winks, and I follow her back into the office. “But, I’d better hear about your big night with Nate.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I grab my messenger
bag, and head for the door. “I have to go, but I’ll see you later.”

  “Have fun,” she wriggles her fingers at me. “Tell Nate I say hi.”

  I PACE THE living room floor, and check my watch. Nathan is over an hour late, and hasn’t called or texted to let me know why. I’m already shaky with nerves, having built tonight up in my head and psyched myself out, but nerves turn to anxiety when he doesn’t show on time. I check my phone, quelling the disappointment when I see there’s nothing. I’m about to call Zoey, when there’s a knock at the front door. I rush to open it, a little confused as to why Nathan didn’t use his key, but as soon as I see him, standing there dressed in a pair of lose cargo pants, a black Henley and his favorite green parka, everything inside me just goes still.

  “Hi,” I breathe.

  He looks up, and my stomach flips. “Hey.”

  I hold the door open for him, and he walks in, except he doesn’t look nearly as happy as I am. His expression is shuttered, and tight.

  “Everything all right?” I ask. “Are you still in pain?”

  As much as I was looking forward to being with him like that again, it would be fine if we didn’t do anything more than talk, or watch movies. As long as he’s here, I don’t care.

  “I’m fine,” he replies, pulling his hands through his hair. “Got the all clear from the Doctor this afternoon.”

  “That’s great.” I take a tentative step towards him, but he lifts his hand to stop me.

  “Savannah.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He lets out a breath, and it makes me shift from foot to foot on the cold floors. “I need to ask you something, it’s about the post you wrote-"

  “You said you were okay with it?”

  “Not that one,” he replies, his brows furrowed. My fingers itch to brush that frown away. “The one about friends with benefits.”

  “Oh, what about it?”

  “Is that all we are to you? Friends with benefits?”

  I sigh. “I thought it would be possible to have that, yes, but I realized that we’re just not those people.”