A few years ago his offer might not have been so complicated. But now… She’d pretty much ruined any chance they’d had of having a simple relationship when she’d chickened out at Ocean Beach. Trent would never let her live down his being ditched just when he thought they were going to get it on.
The problem with Trent was, he was too tempting. The sexual attraction between them was too strong, too volatile, too easy to lose control of. Josie knew because they’d come so close more than once before. On prom night, and again during their misguided encounter three years ago. When things heated up between Trent and Josie, the temperature turned scorching, and Josie ran from the heat.
She could still recall every important detail of that night—the way Trent’s skin had tasted faintly of salt from the unexpected summer heat wave, the way he’d moved so slowly, teasing her and tempting her until she was almost out of her mind with wanting him, the expression of confusion he’d worn when she’d asked him to get out of the car.
Never mind that he’d been naked. No one was around. He’d simply shrugged and climbed out her passenger door, probably assuming she had an embarrassing birth control procedure to attend to. Or perhaps a sex-in-the-sand fantasy to act out.
Most of all, she’d never forget the terror that had seized her at having come so close to having sex with Trent. So very close to a fantasy she couldn’t dream of living up to. That terror had struck her a handful of times, always with men she truly desired.
It was her most embarrassing secret, that she could only make love to men who didn’t excite her. In all her twenty-nine years she’d only had a few lovers, and she’d been forced to choose them for their lack of effect on her libido.
She rested her head on her arms on top of the desk, but that put her face-to-face with the desk calendar, and that made her start counting months. She counted back eleven months, twelve months, thirteen months…and then her head snapped back up. She sat bolt upright, her mind reeling at the realization that it had been a long time since she’d last had sex.
Miriam MacAfee was right; she’d been able to just look at Josie and tell. Maybe there was some tenseness in her shoulders, a desperate look in her eyes, a stiffness in her walk. Whatever it was, she needed to get rid of it. Fast. Aside from the fact that she missed having sex, there was also the matter of her not being able to credibly give sensuality seminars if she could remember nothing about the subject herself.
She found her purse on the floor near the desk and dug out her small three-year personal calendar, the place she recorded all the major and minor events in her life. She flipped back through the months, searching for some proof that her count was wrong.
A knock on the office door halted her and she prayed it wasn’t Trent again. Before she could ask who was there, Erika Li, the center’s receptionist and all-around handygirl, poked her head in.
“You busy?”
“Not exactly. Come on in.”
Erika flopped down into the chair opposite Josie’s desk, her gauzy red Gypsy-style dress billowing around her and then settling. “I need a break from the horny people.”
“You’ve come to the wrong place, then.”
Her eyebrows perked up. “You? Sexually needy?”
“Why is that surprising?”
“I just figured the daughter of Rafaela Marcus would have her sex life all worked out, you know?”
“I’d first need to get a sex life before I could have it all worked out.”
Josie turned her attention back to her personal calendar and flipped through the months again. Back further and further, until she finally came to a September, nearly two years back, during which her love life had still been alive and kicking.
“It’s been almost two years since I’ve had sex.”
“You mean two months, right?” Erika asked, dead serious.
“No, two years. I just double-checked my calendar.”
“Are you sure you didn’t count wrong? Let me see that thing.” Erika snatched the calendar and flipped back through the months.
“The big events are marked with an asterisk in the left-hand corner.”
“Maybe you just forgot to record some of the less memorable encounters?”
“Impossible.”
Erika shook her head when her count of the asterisk-free months yielded the same sad truth as Josie’s. “You need to get laid.”
“I don’t even have any prospects. Electrical appliances are starting to look sexy.”
“Oh, you have prospects. I bet you’re just too cautious.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“She’s a wise woman.”
“My mother’s a deviant and you know it.”
Erika smiled. “Let me guess, you go so far out of your way not to be like her, you’ve turned yourself into a nun.”
Ouch. That felt a little too close to being the truth. Josie shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“It’s this center. How am I supposed to keep it alive while the woman born to run it is playing house with her Bohemian stud boy in Prague?”
“Your mom and her boys… What ever happened to your father, anyway? Were they married?”
Josie had barely known her father, and Rafaela had never been much interested in talking about him. “All I know is that they were married, but he left when I was a baby. Couldn’t take the responsibility or something like that.”
Erika narrowed her eyes as if reading the future on Josie’s forehead. “I bet you’re afraid enjoying sex will turn you into your mother.”
Blushing, Josie looked away. Again, Erika’s comment fell dangerously close to the truth. “Your degree’s in massage therapy, not sex therapy.”
She shrugged. “I’ve worked here long enough to pick up a few pointers.”
Josie glared at her calendar. How could she let the months—the years!—slip by like that? She was supposed to be in the prime of her life, not withering away like her maiden aunt Mitsy.
“I’m not afraid of sex, I just have bad luck.”
Erika leaned forward and planted her palms on the desk. “Does this sex crisis have anything to do with the hottie next door who just slipped out of your office a few minutes ago?”
“Trent O’Reilly has nothing to do with my dry spell.” And that was true, wasn’t it? He couldn’t possibly have influenced her comatose sex life. Josie’s stomach flip-flopped as the truth began to creep up on her.
“But I bet he could help you end it.” The gold stud in Erika’s pierced tongue glittered as she caught it between her teeth and wiggled it.
Josie’s face burned. She couldn’t tell anyone about Trent’s offer, even if she had refused. It was just too embarrassing to think that the center’s financial problems had come down to her trading sex lessons for rent. Sex lessons, for heaven’s sake!
But some little niggling thought was bugging Josie. If she needed sex, and Trent needed lessons…
Erika leaned in close. “What did he want, anyway?”
“The rent. We’re two months late.”
“Ooh, I can think of a trade he might like.”
If only she knew how right she was. Josie cleared her throat and shifted in her chair. “Don’t even go there.”
She felt her friend’s speculative gaze. “Don’t look so bummed. You’re supposed to be happy when you become indebted to a calendar-worthy hunk. Allows more time to figure out how to get him into bed.”
“Indebted is the last thing I need to be right now.”
“In fact, it wouldn’t be an inappropriate response to update your panty drawer now, buy a few new push-up bras—”
“Erika…”
“For Rafaela’s daughter, you sure are a prude.”
“I’m not a prude, I’m just normal. You’ve developed a warped sense of sexual norms working here.”
“It’s just the opposite. I see what people are really like in this job, and you, my friend, are sexually repressed.”
“I am not.”
“W
hen was the last time you had really hot sex? I’m guessing more than two years ago, since that last time wasn’t even good enough to call for a repeat performance.”
Josie studied a chipped fingernail. “Depends on how you define ‘really hot sex.’ I’ve had sexual relationships.” With a few guys, none of them very memorable, but at least she’d stayed awake. That counted for something, didn’t it?
Erika gave her a pitying look. “Mind-blowing, bed-rocking, toe-curling, go-all-night sex. Please tell me you’ve had it at least once.”
All night? She couldn’t recall any of her boyfriends ever having needed more than twenty minutes, thirty tops.
“Do yourself a favor and go find someone to give you a screaming orgasm.”
Josie tried not to laugh. “Does it have to be a screaming one?”
“You won’t regret it if you do, but someday when you’re old and your arthritis keeps you from getting into all the more creative positions, you will regret it if you don’t.”
“Arthritis wasn’t slowing down any of my students today,” she joked. But maybe Erika was right. Maybe she was a prude. Maybe she’d spent so many years trying to be different from her mother that she’d taken it to the extreme.
One of her more embarrassing high school memories flashed into her mind—hosting a sleep-over with three of her friends. Josie had felt like dying when Rafaela had proceeded to hold an impromptu sex-ed class for the teenage girls. That was the night Josie had vowed she was going to be the exact opposite of her sex-obsessed mother.
Maybe she’d taken that vow a little too far.
“Trent O’Reilly is the stuff wild sexual flings are made of. He’s the perfect candidate for an unforgettable affair.”
Sex with Trent? Could she do it? Could she really spend not just one night, but two months, getting intimate with the guy she’d spent most of her lifetime running away from? Could she really teach him how to be the perfect lover?
“Do you know about our history?”
“Rafaela told me you guys were childhood sweethearts or something.”
“Or something. Definitely not sweethearts. We grew up together in the Richmond District, and there have been a few, uh, encounters.”
“But no sex?”
“Just a couple of close calls. Last time was three years ago, when I was still in college. We ended up in my car together, going for a ride to the beach. Things heated up, then I freaked out and drove off with his underwear.”
Erika looked perplexed. “Where was he when you drove away?”
“I kicked him out of the car and left him on the beach. It wasn’t exactly my finest hour.”
“Why’d you keep his underwear?”
“They were on the floor—I didn’t see them.”
“Boxers or briefs? I’m guessing boxers.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Josie nodded. She kept to herself the fact that she still had Trent’s boxers hidden in the glove compartment of her Saab.
“I swear, you therapists are always the most screwed-up people around.”
Josie started to protest but thought better of it. Maybe Erika wasn’t so far off base on that charge.
“Just admit you’d like to do the wild thing with Trent.”
“Me and the rest of the heterosexual females in San Francisco.”
“So you admit it!”
“It’s purely sexual. Personality-wise, I can’t stand the guy. But physically, yes, I can think of a few ways to entertain myself with him.”
“There you have it then, someone to end your drought.” Erika stood and headed for the door, her red dress swishing as she walked.
Josie didn’t bother to argue, and then she realized it was because she didn’t want to argue the point. Somehow, without her brain’s approval, her libido had already decided Trent was the solution to her problem.
For the next two months, anyway.
TRENT LEANED AGAINST the counter of Extreme Sports and surveyed the store. A full-time salesclerk, Max, was talking to a young couple in the bike section about their options for mountain bikes, and two regulars in the store were browsing the summer athletic wear. Trent didn’t have the energy to do anything more than remain propped behind the counter, thanks to a lousy night’s sleep.
Thanks to his meeting with Josie yesterday.
Okay, so it was his own fault for trying to entangle himself with her again, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop replaying their encounter in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways he could have teased and tempted her if she’d accepted his offer. All night long, he’d thought about it.
Damn, Josie drove him crazy. No one should be able to have so much control over him. Just having her right next door every day was enough to make him think seriously about running for the hills, following through on his occasional dream of selling Extreme Sports and moving to Tahoe. He could lead adventure tours full-time and never have to deal with that woman again.
Trent pushed himself up from the counter and vowed to find some busywork, anything to take his mind off of…the woman walking in the front door.
He leveled his gaze at Josie as she made her way through the store, a leather notebook tucked under one arm, her expression carefully blank. She wore a suit again, this one navy-blue and cut to hint at her curves, but her hair was slightly mussed, and he could see, as she came closer, dark circles under her eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only one watching the minutes tick by last night.
“Morning, Josie.”
“I need to speak with you in private, if you can spare the time.”
Trent maintained a poker face. “Hey, Max, I’ll be in the back for a while.”
Max looked up and nodded, while Trent told himself not to get too hopeful about Josie’s presence. She’d probably been up all night working up a payment plan—and not the sexual one he hoped for, either.
He led her down a hallway cluttered with boxes and sports equipment, then through the door to his small office.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to a giant baseball-glove-shaped chair, restraining a smile as Josie hesitated for a moment before perching herself on its edge.
Trent pulled out his desk chair and turned it around to straddle it, then realized his mistake when he took in his prime view of Josie’s legs. His position pulled his jeans tight and left no room for certain changes that were bound to take place if he kept staring up her skirt.
She cleared her throat, opened her leather notebook and removed a piece of paper. That was when he noticed her shaking hand.
“I’ve given your offer a great deal of thought….”
Oh, yeah?
“And I’ve come to the conclusion that it could be a mutually beneficial arrangement if we both approached it in a serious and professional manner.”
“So, you want to have serious and professional sex lessons?”
“I—I would like our relationship to be a professional one, but for the sake of the lessons, I’m sure we’ll need to assume whatever mood is appropriate for the occasion.”
“You’ve got a way of making even the tawdriest scenario sound boring, you know.”
Her nostrils flared, the only sign that she didn’t appreciate his observation.
“Sorry, I’ll shut up now,” he said, forcing a serious countenance. This was almost too good to be true.
“I have some stipulations for you before I can agree to anything.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“As your instructor, I feel it’s important that I guide and control the lessons at all times.” Her voice wavered.
“Sounds reasonable.”
“I choose the subject matter based on what I determine to be the areas in which you need improvement.”
His first instinct was to protest, but Trent bit his tongue and waited. He wanted to hear what else she had to say.
“And I’ll need you to complete this questionnaire, so I’ll have a clear idea of your current knowledge base.” She held out the piece of paper, and Trent took it,
intrigued.
He scanned the list of multiple-choice and short-answer questions. What is your sexual orientation? How many lovers have you had? What percentage would you say have left unsatisfied? Describe your ideal lover. List the five most important qualities you believe you should possess as a lover. Describe your favorite sexual fantasy.
Whoa.
He looked up at Josie, who was watching him, her expression completely serious.
“This is kind of personal, don’t you think?”
“You did ask me for sex lessons. I can’t think of a more personal subject matter than that. If I’m going to offer the lessons, I need to know you intimately.”
“Babe, you will know me intimately by the time these lessons are done.”
“This is the kind of information I’ll need ahead of time, if you want the instruction tailored to your needs.”
What the hell. He scanned the questions one more time and decided this could get interesting, considering how ill at ease Josie already seemed to be.
“Okay, let’s go through the questions right now.”
Her cheeks turned scarlet. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I’ll just leave the questionnaire with you and—”
“This way, if you need any explanation of my answers, you can just ask. Let’s start with the first question. Answer A, strictly heterosexual. Question Two. ‘How many lovers have you had?’”
He looked up to see that curiosity had won out over discomfort. Josie was listening, enthralled.
“A gentleman never tells. And besides, I don’t keep count.” He grinned at her, and she forced a smile back.
“I’ve never met a man who didn’t know that number immediately.”
“And I’ve never met a woman who was satisfied with the answer.”
“It goes both ways,” she said. “Most men like to believe they’re going where no man has gone before.”
This new boldness intrigued Trent. He wondered how far he could entice her to go. “You know, it’s not really fair that I have to answer all these questions, when I don’t know any of this information about you.”
“I’m not the one who needs lessons.”
“But how can I practice establishing intimacy with you when it’s all one-sided? I think I’d be much more comfortable if this felt like a real relationship.”
Pleasure for Pleasure Page 3