Operation Foreplay (23 page)

If dry-humping and heavy kissing was where I was going to live for a while, we were going to break the couch. “What’s the condition?” The pulsating was finally beginning to subside. It wasn’t a painful process, per se, but instead felt kind of like my vagina was shriveling up and dying in protest. I’d always been very good to her. Now the bitch was giving me attitude. Couldn’t say I blamed her.

“Neither of us can come.”

“What?” I jumped up and almost lost my balance when my knees threatened to give out. “No dick
and
no orgasm? What are you, a fucking sadist? Who the fuck withholds dick, let alone orgasms? You are out of your fucking mind. No way. I’ll take care of this shit myself.” I held up my hands in protest and started toward my bedroom to take care of business. Fuck that shit.

“Wait. Hear me out.” He grabbed my wrist and turned me to face him. “I’m not saying we do this forever. I’m just saying we’ll take it slow and when you decide you can take off your running shoes, we’ll put orgasms and dicks and vaginas back on the table. Look, I’m not totally ready for anything serious either. I don’t even know if I really want anything serious. Amber and I dated for five years. When we broke up, I went on a bender and fucked everything that had tits and a pussy. I don’t want that now. Let’s just get it out of our system and start thinking about what we really want.” He pulled me into a hug and I felt his soldier wake up and look around, which sent all the blood in my body rushing back between my legs. “You and I have been thinking with the wrong heads.”

“So we are going to hold hands and get to know each other?”

He kissed the top of my head. “Yep.” His body tensed up as his sleepy soldier started to rise.

“And make out and dry hump like teenagers?” It wouldn’t be all bad.

He breathed out a shaky breath. “Yep.”

“But we are not allowed to have orgasms. Even self-induced?” Yeah. It was bad.

“Right.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg.

“How long?” My fists opened and closed as I tried to ease the tension and frustration.

“You turn thirty on—”

“July thirty-first.”

“How many days is that?”

I counted on my fingers. “Fifteen days.”

“Fifteen days?”

“You think we can do this?”

“I don’t know, never gave up sex before.” He rolled his neck.

“Why would you ever do that? Two weeks is a long time.” I marched in place.

“Never had a reason to before. And two weeks is not so long.” He tapped the tip of my nose and hugged me tighter.

“Jared?” My lady boner was climbing my walls.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Honestly?” He pulled back and held me at arm’s length. “Not sure I can either.”

He stepped away and started jumping up and down.

“What are you doing?”

“Controlling my boner.”

“By jumping?”

“Yeah and saying ‘stinky pussy’ over and over in my head.”

“Stinky pussy?” I crossed my arms over my chest, not amused by his display.

“Yeah.” He continued to jump up and down. “Once when I was in high school, I went out with this girl. We were about to do the deed but when I pulled her pants off, she had the stinkiest pussy you could ever imagine. Needless to say, my dick went soft faster than the speed of sound. Now, when I need to control the boner, I jump up and down and think of stinky pussy. You should try it.”

“I don’t want to try it.” I was pouting. And I didn’t care. I was about to have a full-on toddler tantrum and I could not give less of a fuck than I did in that moment.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve got that”—he pointed at my crotch—“under control?” He stopped jumping and moved so he was standing in front of me, our bodies almost touching. My orgasm wanted to claw itself out of the top of my head. “You’d be okay if I knelt down in front of you”—he dropped to his knees—“and did this.” He blew a long slow breath between my legs. My knees buckled again and I cried out, grabbing his shoulders so my fingernails pressed into his skin.

He jumped up quickly and began jumping again.

“Fuck you.” I was holding myself like I had to pee.

“Soon enough. But for now, we think of stinky pussies.”

“Blister dick.” I jumped up and down with him.

“What?” His face looked like he’d bitten into a lemon.

“When I was in college, I dated a landscaper.” I would have thought the jumping would only exacerbate the swelling and throbbing, but no, it was quite the opposite. “And he fell into some poison ivy, sumac, or whatever. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that
somehow
he got it on his dick. And when we went to fuck one night, I yanked off his underwear and he had poison whatever blisters on his dick. So, yeah, blister dick, might just help control
my
boner.”

“Excellent! Blister dick it is.”

Like fools, we continued jumping around the living room attempting to control our boners. I’d gone five days without sex at that point. I could hold off a bit longer. For him, I could hold off. I hoped.

What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

Chapter Nineteen

I
shot out of bed at half past six the next morning.

“Whatsa matter?” Jared asked, sleep still heavy in his voice.

“It’s Friday.” I chewed on my thumbnail.

“I know. Stop biting your nails and go back to sleep.” He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into little spoon position. His fingers grazed my stomach and if I were a cat, I would’ve clawed the ceiling.

He giggled. “Sorry.”

“Do you know what this means?”

“We go home tomorrow?”

“My birthday isn’t for two more weeks.” I whispered the fact because I thought if I said the words too loudly, hell would open up and swallow me whole. Either that or my very angry vagina would seek revenge and eat Jared.

“Congratulations. It’s been like two months since I’ve had sex, if you don’t count the hand job I gave myself after you walked in on me naked, so two more weeks won’t kill me. By the way, I pictured you the entire time. It was a good hand job.” He smiled with his eyes still closed. “Now go back to sleep.” He pulled a pillow over his head.

“I can’t. What if I can’t do this? I don’t think I can.” Panic washed through me.

“Blister dick.”

“Right. Blister dick. Blister dick.” I tried to snuggle in but was too antsy. “Blister dick,” I continued to whisper, to no avail.

Jared could tell I was about to crawl out of my skin. He tore the blanket off, hopped out of bed, and threw on a T-shirt and sneakers. “Fuck. Let’s go.”

“Where?”
Blister dick, blister dick.

“For a run. Your anxiety is fucking with my Zen. And honestly, it’s too early for me to start thinking about stinky pussies. So we will run it off. Let’s go.”

I fumbled around for something to wear and settled on a fluorescent yellow sports bra and a pair of tiny black spandex shorts. I was stretching my arms when I walked into the living room to meet him.

“What the fuck, Mel?” His shoulders slumped.

“What?”

“You have to wear that?” Looked like Mr. Let’s Take It Slow had a bug up his butt.

“What’s wrong with this?” I looked down at myself. The tiny abs I’d been working on for the past few months were slowly making an appearance. “Hey, look at that!”

He opened the door. “Nothing.” As I walked past, I swear I heard him mumble
stinky pussy
at least a few times.

Served him right.

*  *  *

“Mom, what time is our reservation?”

“Four thirty, sweetie,” she answered from her bedroom.

I rolled my eyes. “Who eats dinner at four thirty in the afternoon?” I yelled back.

“Your father and I like eating early.”

I looked at my dad, who shook his head and shrugged. “You aren’t geriatric patients, you know.”

“Relax.” Jared rubbed my shoulders. “You and I can go out for drinks or something after.”

“I guess.” I pushed up on my toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Look at our little Melly, Bill! All grown-up with a boyfriend.” My mom flitted into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.

“Mom, serious—” I choked on the rest of the syllables and Jared patted me on the back.

“Repeat after me: ‘two days.’” He laughed as I punched him in the arm. “You know”—he leaned down and whispered—“I kind of like when she refers to me as your boyfriend.”

“As if!” I looked at him. “Wait, you aren’t. Are you?”

“No way! I could never be the boyfriend of a woman so obsessed with blister dicks.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Besides, we’re still in the get-to-know-ya phase.”

“What phase comes next?”

“Not sure. I’ll let you know when we get there.” He squeezed my shoulder before pulling me into a tight hug.

*  *  *

“What are you having for dinner, sweetie?” My dad asked, somewhat impatiently. He’d skipped lunch, knowing Mom was dragging us out for the pre–early bird special, and he was starving, as evidenced by the consistent low rumble in his tummy.

“I don’t know. You guys order first.”

“Excellent. I’ll have the veal special.” Dad snapped his menu shut and handed it to the waiter.

“Fettuccini Alfredo.” Mom handed the waiter her menu and poured another glass of wine. At least I knew where my love of fermented grapes came from. At any given time, I was sure one of us had it flowing through our veins.

“Grilled chicken with eggplant and roasted red peppers, please. And can we get another bottle of wine for the table?” I was glad Jared had noticed that Mom and I would probably finish the bottle on the table before dinner was served.

I stared at the menu a beat longer. “I’ll have the—” I bit my bottom lip and Jared inhaled quickly. I glanced over at him and saw he was regulating his breathing. Son of a bitch was controlling his boner and dinner hadn’t even been served.

Boner.

Jared’s boner.

Jesus Christ.

Blister dick.

“Ma’am?” The waiter snapped me out of my trance.

“I’ll just have the penis points with steamed vegetables.”

The waiter snickered and my mom gasped. Dad chuckled and Jared squeezed my thigh.

“I’m sorry?” The waiter asked.

“Pencil points,” Jared answered.

“I’ll be right back with your wine and other drinks.”

“What?” I looked around at my parents and Jared.

“Penis points, Mel? Really?” My mom clucked.

“Mom!”

I glared at my mother, waiting for an explanation.

“Who orders penis points? Really?” My mom shrugged.

“I don’t know Mom, who?”

“Um, you did,” Jared whispered in my ear.

“No.” My eyes widened and my hand flew to my mouth.

“Yes.” His eyes were wide.

“Fuck. Save yourself. I’m going down with the ship.” I sank in my chair.

“No worries.” Jared leaned back and whispered, “You bite that bottom lip one more time and I’m going to blow a load in my pants.”

It was then I spit my wine out all over the table.

“No one likes a spitter, Mel. Am I right, Jared?” My dad laughed like he’d told the world’s funniest joke.

“Oh, honey”—my mom dipped her napkin into her water and wiped the corner of my dad’s mouth—“you have a little spooge here on your face.”

My head hit the table and I banged it a few more times for luck.

“Holy shit,” Jared whispered as he adjusted his pants.

*  *  *

We bolted out of the restaurant the minute the check was paid. I thanked my parents, kissed my dad on the top of his balding head, and led Jared out the door.

“Sorry about that.”

“What?”

“My parents. Awkward.”

“Nah. They’re good. It’s nice to see two people so in love after so long.”

“True.” I tightened my grip on his hand. “Mini golf?” I pointed to the miniature golf place across the street.

“Sure.”

“Grab your clubs and select your balls.” The old lady at the window appeared bored.

“I want blue!” I snagged a blue ball from the basket.

“You can’t have all the fun.” He selected a pink ball.

“Whatever. You go first. Knock the ball in the hole.” I choked on my gum and putted the blue ball too hard and it jumped the barrier.

“You need to adjust your grip on the shaft.”

I turned and stared at him before picking my ball back up and placing it at the beginning of the course. I did as he said and lightly tapped the ball.