SEXT ME

by Layla Valentine

  And, furthermore, I wanted to make a good impression. I told my best medical school stories and slipped in a few facts that I didn’t usually tell people, like how I liked to volunteer for Thanksgiving at a local shelter.

  I wanted them to think well of me, I realized. I wanted to make a good impression.

  But why? I was never going to see them again. As soon as I got Jessica to orgasm, this whole thing would be over, and if she complained to them later about that asshole Asher, what was it to me?

  Yet, I didn’t let up. I still wanted them to like me.

  The pink in Jessica’s cheeks never completely faded, but she started to get a bit more responsive and playful as the night went on. The waiters quickly realized what was going on and pushed our tables together for us, and at the end of the night, Charlie insisted on paying the bill.

  “I have to say, I’m so glad that Jessica is dating a fine man like you,” Veronica said. “She’s never had a serious boyfriend, you know.”

  “Mom,” Jessica said, her voice sharp in warning.

  “She’s such a lovely girl; I don’t know why she doesn’t put herself out there more,” Veronica went on, ignoring her daughter’s protests.

  “Well, she has me now,” I said firmly, trying to derail the conversation before Jessica burst into tears, which was looking more and more likely with every passing second.

  Veronica smiled at me, and I felt something warm settle into my chest.

  She really likes me, I thought. That felt good, and felt right.

  “So, you two are official, then?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes,” I said quickly to cover up the way Jessica’s eyes bugged out. “I mean, we’ve only been together a couple of weeks, but when it feels right, it feels right.”

  “Exactly,” Charlie said proudly. I grinned. He liked me too.

  Once the bill was settled and we left the table, Veronica and Charlie departed for their car—after giving Jessica many hugs and kisses and giving me a hug or two as well—and then, it was just Jessica and me.

  “I am so sorry,” Jessica blurted out as soon as we were alone. “I’m so sorry, they just jumped right in and made all of these assumptions and—you handled it so well, thank you. I am so sorry.”

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” I told her. I pulled her in close and hugged her, letting her rest her head on my shoulder. “I know they didn’t mean to embarrass you. Parents can be a lot sometimes.”

  “Are yours anything like that?” Jessica asked.

  “Mine aren’t around anymore,” I admitted. “My father died a couple years back from cancer, and my mom died in childbirth.”

  “Oh my God.” Jessica pulled back to look up into my face. “I’m so sorry, Asher; that’s awful.”

  I hadn’t told a lot of people about my parents—and certainly never any of my clients—but it just felt right to share it with Jessica, somehow.

  “It’s okay. I miss them; my dad was the best. I loved him and he was a good father. And I know that my mother loved me. The OB/GYN who was with her saved my life, and was holding her hand while she passed. My dad said that it was a huge comfort to have that doctor with them. That was what made me want to become one myself.”

  “I think that’s the sweetest thing ever,” Jessica told me.

  Now it was my turn to blush. “Thanks.”

  “No, really, I mean it.” She cupped my face in her hands. “And thank you, for being so amazing back there. I was almost going to cry at one point.”

  “I could tell,” I said, laughing.

  “You really didn’t mind…all of that?” she asked.

  “Nope,” I promised, and I really didn’t.

  I liked that her parents liked me. I liked that they’d joined us for dinner. I liked that I had gotten to learn more about Jessica through them, even though their timing and assumptions had made Jessica uncomfortable. And I liked the idea of Jessica and me as an official couple.

  That thought made me stop in my tracks. What? No. No, that wasn’t okay. That wasn’t possible. Jessica was my client. She could never be anything more. And even if I did want her to be more, how could I explain to her my double life and my original reason for meeting her? What could I possibly say that wouldn’t make me look like a total heel?

  No, it was for the best that I end this thing as soon as I got her to orgasm. I just had to figure out what the hell was blocking her from doing so.

  The soft, warm feeling in my chest started to feel a little heavy, but I ignored it. I was Dr. O. This was what I did, and this was what I was good at. I wasn’t boyfriend material. Business and pleasure needed to be kept as separate as my career could possibly allow.

  Chapter 9

  Jessica

  I think saying that I was walking on sunshine would be a bit of an exaggeration, but I couldn’t deny that being with Asher was putting a new bounce into my step. Even Mary commented on it.

  “You seem so much more relaxed lately,” she noted Sunday morning over post-yoga coffee. “Finally had that orgasm?”

  “None of your business,” I replied, and went right back to whistling while I added cream to my coffee.

  Asher had been so much fun to be with, spontaneous and naughty. I could still feel the telltale shivers up my spine whenever I thought about the golf course, and he hadn’t once complained or made a big deal out of my inability to have an orgasm.

  That made me feel bad, actually, because out of all the people in the world that could have been giving me an orgasm, none of them deserved it more than Asher. I wanted to see the joy and triumph on his face when he made me climax. I wanted to give that to him. And I wanted to experience it myself, since he seemed genuinely sad for me that I had never experienced it.

  And the way he had handled my parents—thank God he’d kept his head on his shoulders, because I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d told him that I’d been ready to cry.

  Asher and I had only been together for a couple of weeks—if you could even call it being together when we’d never talked about our relationship or defined it—and to suddenly have parents asking how official you are, and how did you meet, and so on? If I were Asher, I would have run for the hills, but he didn’t. He stayed and he charmed the pants off of them.

  Even if Asher and I ended up breaking up in a couple of months, he’d manage to reassure my parents that I was doing okay; I was sure of it. He’d explain that I had good taste in men and could attract a really great guy, and that would hold them off for another year at least before the talk of marriage and grandchildren started up again.

  Not that I wanted to break up. I didn’t. I wanted to keep seeing him. He was sexy as hell, funny, entertaining, and I never got tired of talking to him. He was super considerate and helped me out with wedding stuff or work that I had to bring home. I sensed that I had a real prize on my hands, and I didn’t want to let that go.

  So why couldn’t I orgasm with him? It felt like such a silly thing to be hung up on when everything else was going so well. And it wasn’t like Asher was losing out on any orgasms. I’d made sure of that. One time, I’d surprised him in the shower and blown him until his knees almost gave out.

  Maybe it was that he seemed too good to be true. There was this nagging little voice in the back of my head—one that sounded annoyingly like Amanita—that kept telling me that something about him just wasn’t believable.

  All right, so maybe it was just the cynical, self-loathing part of me. That part of me thought that I didn’t deserve a guy like Asher. I was broken, something in me just not working right, so why should I be with anybody, let alone someone as great as him?

  But whether it was that part of me or something else, something was whispering in my ear to not believe all of this. And it was ridiculous, but it was there, and I couldn’t ignore it no matter how much I wanted to.

  All through weeks of great sex, smiles across the breakfast table, his fingers laced with mine, serious, deep conversations, and everything in between, that voi
ce kept telling me something wasn’t right.

  Regardless, I wasn’t going to stop seeing Asher just because a part of my brain had decided that it hated me. Instead, when Mary reminded me that I could bring a plus-one to the wedding, I called Asher up.

  “Hey, sorry to bother you,” I said, cradling the phone between my cheek and shoulder while I looked at some paperwork in my office. “You’re not with a patient or anything?”

  “Nope, free as a bird, why?” Asher replied.

  I heard something that sounded like water running and figured he was probably washing dishes or something.

  “I was hoping that you would be my date to Mary’s wedding—the friend I told you about—in a couple of weeks?” I asked.

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone—so long, that for a moment I thought the call had been dropped, and I had to double check to make sure Asher was still on the line.

  “Hello? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry, I’m in the middle of cooking lunch. I’ll say yes, but you have to understand, there’s always the chance I might get called into the hospital.”

  “I understand completely,” I replied. A patient’s safety was far more important than Asher staying at the reception with me, if it came to that. “No pressure.”

  “I appreciate it. Sure, then. I would love to be your date and finally meet the famous Mary and the almost as famous Amanita and the notorious Jane and Lanie.”

  I laughed.

  “If you can finally convince Lanie to get her head out of her ass and realize Jane’s been pining after her all this time, I will seriously do whatever you want.”

  “Whatever I want?” Asher’s voice became teasing. “What if what I want is to take you bowling and show you up?”

  “Then bowling we will go,” I said firmly, even though I was a sore loser, and both Asher and I knew it.

  He chuckled. “All right then, I’ll do my best with those gals. Is it white tie?”

  “Black tie.”

  “Phew. I don’t own a tux, and renting is always a pain. But I have some nice suits.”

  “Look at you, all fancy.”

  “I have to fit the classy doctor image, didn’t you know? They make us take a course on it and everything.”

  I grinned, loving how lighthearted and fun Asher was, how willing to tease. I was always so serious, and he brought out this side of me that I hadn’t ever seen before. I really enjoyed it.

  Take that, stupid nagging doubts.

  “So, see you tomorrow?” he asked.

  We were going to go see a movie, so that we could—to quote Asher—‘fill in that square on our cliché dates bingo card.’

  “See you tomorrow.”

  When I hung up the phone, I felt almost completely content. I had a hot date to Mary’s wedding—a hot date for all things, actually—and tomorrow, I was going to see a movie with him.

  We were going to cuddle and kiss like teenagers, and then we were going to go back to my place, where Asher was going to cook something amazing, and then we were going to have fantastic sex. I was going to fall asleep with him curled up behind me, his arm heavy and slung over my waist in that way that made me feel safe and protected. I had a job that I loved, my best friend was getting married, and I finally had a guy worth talking about.

  If only that stupid niggling doubt would shut up.

  Chapter 10

  Jessica

  The day of the wedding, I was uncharacteristically nervous. It must have been Mary rubbing off on me. She was a pile of anxiety.

  I’d let Asher know that he’d have to meet me at the reception as my plus-one and given him the address, because with Mary in this state and all of my other duties as maid of honor, there was no way I’d even be free to see him until after the ceremony. What was the point of the poor guy getting up early in order to sit in a church surrounded by people he didn’t know?

  Asher was a good sport about it and told me to tell Mary to break a leg, which made me laugh. At least one part of today was going smoothly.

  Mary, on the other hand, was sitting on the ottoman in the room we’d decided was the changing room for her, eyeing a bottle of champagne in a way that made me nervous.

  “I should just run away,” Mary whined. “Move to a whole new city. Change my name. Find someone whose mother doesn’t hate me.”

  “Now, now, don’t do that. If you’re overdramatic like that, then we get Romeo and Juliet situations, and frankly, I don’t like the thought of you stabbing yourself or Josh poisoning himself, so…”

  I helped Mary up so that I could get her into her dress.

  “I feel bloated,” she pouted.

  “You look radiant.”

  “That doesn’t mean that I don’t look bloated.”

  “You look healthy and happy and just the same size that you always do. Now step into the dress, girl.”

  “What if I forget my vows?” Mary asked, her hands flying up so that she nearly elbowed me in the face.

  “Then I have the vows on notecards in my cleavage and I will hand them to you,” I replied, doing up the millions of tiny buttons on the back of Mary’s dress. What the hell was wrong with zippers? She couldn’t have gone and used a normal zipper, she had to get this handmade vintage style dress with its millions of tiny buttons that were mocking me?

  “What if someone loses the rings?”

  “Josh’s brother Henry has them, and he’s the most responsible person we know, myself included. This is why we didn’t have a ring bearer.”

  “I’m going to look like an idiot,” Mary moaned. “Josh is going to take one look at me and realize that his mother was right and that I’m an awful bitch and he shouldn’t marry me.”

  “Josh’s mother is delusional and evil,” I replied.

  I put my hands on Mary’s shoulders from behind and smiled at her in the mirror.

  “You look breathtaking, Mary. You really do. Josh is going to take one look at you and burst into tears and swear fealty at your feet. And you’re going to remember your vows, and everyone will cry because they are lovely vows. And you’re going to exchange rings, and his mother will have a miracle epiphany and realize that that two of you were meant to be together all along.”

  Mary slumped back a little, leaning on me for support. “Thanks, Jess. You’re the best.”

  “No, Amanita’s the best; she’s the one I sent to keep your mother and Josh’s mother distracted and out of this room.”

  Mary laughed, turning around.

  “Tell me something. Anything. Talk to me. I want to think about anything except for my wedding right now.”

  I understood why she wanted a distraction, but I couldn’t think of anything to talk about. Except for…

  “There’s this guy.”

  Mary gasped. “What’s he like? How’d you meet?”

  “In a bar,” I said. “He’s—Mary, he may be the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. He’s so considerate. And it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. He met my parents—by accident,” I added, when I saw Mary’s knowing face. “And they were, just, you know how they can be. Just so overwhelming, making assumptions, and I love them but in that moment I could have strangled them, Mary, I really could have.

  “But he handled it so well. He was just so charming and nice and asked them all sorts of good questions about themselves and really listened to them while they prattled on for a million hours. And he cooks for me and he’s a doctor and saves lives and he’s just…”

  “Sounds like you’re in love with him,” Mary noted, grinning.

  I started. “What? No. I’m—that is, I don’t think—we’ve been dating for barely a month, Mary. That’s not enough time to fall in love with someone.”

  “I fell in love with Josh the first night that I met him,” Mary pointed out. “We got into the same cab by accident and he was just the sweetest guy, and we were going to the same neighborhood so we shared—do you remember?”

  “I do,” I said, and I did.

/>   Mary had shown up at my apartment in raptures about this amazing man that she’d met while trying to get a taxi. I’d never seen her so happy.

  “You were…what’s the word? Besotted.”

  Mary laughed.

  “Yup, that’s the perfect word. But I knew, then, that very night, that I was in love with him. And every day just deepened that. Love doesn’t have a time constraint. It can come early or late, and it can build slowly or hit you suddenly and all at once.”

  She took my face in her hands, and for some reason, I felt as though I was more grounded. I felt like there was some weight settling on me and around me, but not in a bad way—in a good, stabilizing way, making me more solid than before.

  “Honey, Jess—if you’re in love with this guy, you can just say so. Don’t worry about the timing, okay? He sounds like a really great guy. Is he your plus-one today?”

  I nodded. “He’s going to meet us at the reception, since I’m so busy with all of this stuff; I didn’t want him to feel awkward sitting with a bunch of strangers.”

  “Then I can’t wait to meet him later,” Mary assured me.

  “Thanks, Mary,” I said, taking her hands in mine and squeezing them.

  Elian stuck her head in. “We’re still running interference, but it’s about to start, so I hope you two are ready!”

  I looked over at Mary, who nodded.

  “Yes,” I said. “We’re ready.”

  As maid of honor, I was second to last to go down the aisle, right before Mary. All of us stood in a line, wearing gorgeous floor-length dresses in various shades of lavender. Mine was a little darker than everyone else’s, because I was the maid of honor, and I definitely thought that I would wear it again if I got the chance.

  Tessa was first in line, then Elian, and so on. Amanita was just before me, and she threw a wink over her shoulder at Mary just before she started down the aisle.

  Then, it was my turn.