Javier: You never told me what you’re reading …
Me: A romance novel …
Javier: Like Fifty Shades of Grey?
Me: LOL No. Not all romance novels are like that, Javi.
Javier: We can’t get off together, so you’re getting off to some fictional guy instead?
Me: You should read his description, Javi. He’s dangerous, brooding, covered in tattoos and pining after a girl he’s loved his whole life and he’s not afraid to tell her how he feels. He’s hot!
I chuckle to myself, wondering what his face looks like right now. Are his lips pursed, his forehead scrunched in disgust or confusion?
Javier: He’s not real. Why would you want to imagine a man when you could have the real thing?
Me: Women are more complex when it comes to sex, Javi. Things are much more mental for us, and the imagination is a powerful thing. Sometimes reading a sex scene in a book gets me more turned on than if I were to watch porn. And the buildup between the characters always gets my heart racing. There’s more to the stories besides sex too. I think people forget that about love—the physical stuff can come and go, but the connection between two people beyond sex is what keeps the magic alive.
I press send and then realize I got way too philosophical on him. All he asked was if I’d rather have the real thing, and I go into a lecture about how sex isn’t everything. Which it’s not, but the only thing between Javi and I is sex—at least I think it is. Suddenly I’m not so sure as this conversation continues to progress.
Javier: I guess I can understand that. I mean, I still think nothing can replace sex, but I understand that women need more than just the physical. Kind of like when I blindfolded you … I bet you got off harder from that.
Me: I did.
Javier: Then next time I’ll try to think of something else to please you.
Me: Do you think about that often? The things you’re going to do to me …
I bite my lip as I wait for his reply, struggling not to smile. I know I wonder multiple times a day what Javier is going to give me next, so I wonder if he does the same.
Javier: All fucking day. I never thought you and I would ever be doing something like this, Princess … but fuck. I’m not mad about it.
Me: I’ll just have to use my imagination until I see you next week then.
Javier: You’d better be thinking of me and not some fictional character as you get off. If I could sneak away right now so I could get you off over the phone again, I would. But I just got roped into playing Cards Against Humanity.
Me: I LOVE that game! I even have the version made based off of the television show, Friends! We mixed those cards in with the original game and it made it so much better.
Javier: Fuck. You and my sister would get along great. She’s obsessed with the show too.
I’m not sure how to take that response. Does he want to formally introduce me to his sister? I mean, I met her for a second at the gym on that first day, and I remember her vaguely from high school. She was younger than us, but I think we had art together or something.
Me: Well, have fun. I’ll just be over here with my book and Panda Express.
Javier: You too. Well, fuck that. Don’t have too much fun, Princess. In fact, I dare you not to make yourself come until I see you again. It will make it that much better.
Just thinking about my next orgasm from Javi has the ache between my legs skyrocketing. Can I hold off? These characters are just about to get it on and I was itching for a release anyway.
Me: I don’t know. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Maybe once you see me you’ll be able to tell if I came all over my fingers or not.
Javier: Fuck. Now I’m hard. Don’t do it, Princess. Wait for me.
I know you can’t sense tone and emotion in a text, but there’s something about those last three words that squeeze around my heart. What the fuck is happening here between us?
Me: You’d better wait for me too then.
Javier: Done.
Me: Go play your game, Javi. Have fun. Goodnight.
Javier: Goodnight, Princess. Sleep well.
My heart is thrumming wildly by the time we end our conversation, my adrenaline firing so high that I don’t even have an appetite any more. I store the rest of my food in the mini fridge and get ready for bed, preparing to read some more and fight the urge to relieve the tension in my body that Javier builds every time we talk to each other. And even though our conversation tonight was primarily laced with sexual innuendos and tension, there were the small glimpses I got of him today that fed another need I’m developing for him—the one where I wonder if we’re joking ourselves that this thing between us can ever just be about sex.
After another long day of sessions and a few scattered text messages with Javier that had nothing to do with sex, I drive home from Fort Worth late that Sunday night. Byron knew I’d get in late, so he gave me that Monday off, in which I used my extra day to sleep in and get caught up on laundry and grocery shopping—you know, the extremely thrilling parts of being an adult.
By the time Tuesday came around, I was smacked in the face with reality as I entered the office, thrown back into the world of emails, client meetings, court appearances, and paperwork. But that night was my next self-defense class and the first time I’d see Javier since our phone sex incident and the
