Friendly Persuasion

Her stomach shimmied at the look in his eyes. He was probably right. It would be wonderful to put herself in Ross’s hands…so to speak. She liked him, and she knew he cared about her. There wouldn’t be any of that awkwardness of being strangers.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said. She was definitely chicken.

AFTER WORK, Kara entered Naughty and Nice and marched purposefully to the devices shelves, head high. She was a sexually active woman who had every right to explore new sensations. She faltered a little, though, when the most tasteful vibrator she could find was in a lurid purple box that screamed self-pleasure toy.

To cover her real purpose, she snatched up a few items on her walk to the register—some party napkins with suggestive jokes, a feather boa, some flavored body paints and a package of what turned out to be edible underwear. She kept her head down and prayed the bored girl behind the counter wouldn’t shout out, Price check on the Heavy Duty G-Spot Pleasure Wand.

The clerk didn’t bat an eye, thank God, and Kara rushed out of the store with her purchases in a plain brown bag, feeling as if she’d dodged a bullet.

Next stop, the video store. Pausing in the self-help section she picked out an instructional video featuring a positive-thinking guru, then slipped behind the purple curtain with the Adults Only sign over it. Ignoring the sideways glances of the men browsing—no, lurking—at the racks, she scanned titles that made her blush to her roots, and finally grabbed a tape with a soft-focused photo and no evident body parts.

Making sure only the motivational tape showed, she clutched the tapes close to her chest, pushed through the purple curtain…and ran smack-dab into Ross. The shock made her drop her sex-shop sack, spilling her brightly colored purchases on the carpet.

She stood there frozen for a second and Ross bent to pick up, then hand the items to her one at a time, examining each one. “Looks like you have a busy evening ahead of you,” he said, giving her the vibrator.

“Never you mind,” she said, shoving it into her bag, blushing furiously.

“And what are you renting?” he asked, snatching the tapes from her fingers. He held them high, out of her reach. “Hmm, Firefighters in Flames and Getting What You Want NOW…with Tony Rockwell,” he said, reading the covers. “I can see the firefighters—all those muscles and that big pole—but I had no idea you had a thing for old guys with bad dye jobs,” he said, handing the tapes back.

“Oh, stop it,” she said. “I’m experimenting, okay?”

“I’m kind of hurt you’re going with paraphernalia when I’m offering my fleshly self.”

“I’m exploring…um…options.”

“Flaming firefighters? Please. You are chicken.”

“Am not.” She was so humiliated she just blurted, “Okay, smart guy. You’re on. Let’s go to your place and see about some rules.” What else could she do? He’d dared her and she had her pride. She’d find out what he had mind, at least.

The minute they got to his place, Ross started rushing through the apartment picking up stuff.

“Don’t fuss on my account,” she said. She’d been to his place numerous times and he’d never batted an eye when she had to push stuff off the couch just to make a place to sit. His frantic cleanup now charmed her.

His furniture consisted of funky items he’d scored at yard sales and nostalgia shops, along with things he bought off friends who needed money. He had a fish tank made from an old-fashioned clear gas pump in one corner and a Roy Rogers lamp-end-table ensemble next to an orange Naugahyde sofa.

Only the art was decent—fabulous, actually. Art photography, original oils and several sculptures. His record albums—he collected vinyls of blues artists and had a mint condition turntable—were in orderly racks. Ross had taste, just no concern.

Cords from three video game controllers were tangled in the middle of the floor and the couch cushions were propped against the cocktail table—backrests for gamers, no doubt. “Mind if I put these back?” she asked, picking up a cushion.

“Be my guest. I’ll get us a couple beers.”

She sat down on the recushioned couch and thought about what she might be doing—having sex with Ross. She shivered.

She did want to learn to separate sex from love, and she’d been attracted to Ross from the day they met. She’d always envied the women who knew him as a sexual partner. Then there was the thrill of knowing he wanted her enough to plan ways to convince her to do it.

But what about their friendship?

Maybe being friends would make it easier, like he said. It would save time, get past all those awkward getting-to-know-you moments….

Was she losing her mind, thinking of sex with Ross as an efficiency measure? Maybe the ground rules would convince her. Or scare her off.

The hand she used to take the beer from Ross shook so badly that he put the bottle on the table, sat beside her and rubbed her cold fingers between his warm ones. “Don’t be nervous, Kara.” He looked into her eyes. His were velvet green with brown lace. Hazel, except sexier. “We’ll take it slow. Nice and slow.”

A shiver crawled up her spine. “How about those ground rules?” she said, extracting her hands to go for the notepad she kept in her purse.

“Let’s just talk, okay?” he said, taking away the pad and pen. “We’re friends, remember? Friends talk to each other.”

“Right.” She took a deep breath and blew it out.

“You’re blotching. You always blotch when you’re nervous.” He studied her a moment longer. “I do know you,” he said on a sigh, and thrust the pad at her. “Go ahead and write. You’ll jitter if you can’t.”

Relieved, she labeled the list Sex with Ross—Ground Rules. “Okay. Number one.” Before Ross could suggest something, she said, “Friendship first.”

“Absolutely,” Ross agreed. “Nothing gets in the way of that.”

She wrote it down. “How can we be sure?” She frowned.

“That’s rule number two,” he said. “The minute either of us feels weird, we quit. No questions asked, no harm, no foul.”

“Maybe that will work.” She wrote it down, then bit her lip.

“Rule number three,” Ross continued. “Stay focused on the goal.”

“Goal? I’ve never heard you use that word,” she said.

“Let’s say I’m motivated,” he said with a suggestive lift of his brow. “The goal is to show you how to have fun with sex.”

“But it can’t just be me. You have to have fun, too.”

“Oh, I’ll have fun. Don’t you worry about that.” He gave her that look again.

She shivered again.

“Next, this can’t interfere with dating other people,” Ross said. When she looked at him quizzically, he shrugged. “There’s a hottie I’m working on at LG Graphics.”

“And who could forget Lisa, the accountant with the high IQ from the Upside? You’re such a hound,” she chided. But then added, “Actually, that’s perfect. If I know you’re seeing other people, I couldn’t possibly get attached.” This just might work. “Number five is we have to be honest,” she said, writing the words BE HONEST in all caps. “No being polite just to please the other person.”

“And if we’re not sexually compatible, we quit. That’s number six, I guess.”

She stopped, her pencil in midair. “You think I’m boring, but I’m really not. The granny panties were only because—”

“Relax.” He chuckled. “I just mean sex is like dancing—sometimes your rhythms don’t match. No biggie.”

“I guess so.” She frowned, worried.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. You’re hot, I’m hot, we’ll be hot together.” He winked. “Oh, and if there’s something you want me to do—sexually—you just say it and I’m there.”

“Okay, but nothing too racy.”