Three Little Words

“My dad was right about your smirk. But it makes me want to kiss you more than anything.”

“I can live with that.”

“Good, ’cause you’re stuck with me. If we go all the way, I’ll never let you go. You know that, right?”

“I’m starting to get the picture.”

“So you’d better be nice to me. I won’t be just another notch on your bedpost, number thirty-one.”

“I don’t want that,” I said as seriously as I could.

“At least we agree on something.”

“We agree on lots of things.”

“Right. So hush and let me tell you what I’ve been thinking. This isn’t easy for me.”

I nodded contritely.

“Better. Now, where was I?” She stretched out on the seat and returned her head to my thigh. Then she kissed my flagging erection and said to him,

“I’ll take care of you soon. Okay? Can you be patient while I talk to Paul?

You can? Awesome. Thanks! You’re such a good penis.” She kissed the tip again. “More later, I swear.”

“He says okay.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless. “Remember,” she said by way of a preamble, “you promised not to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Got it.”

“Okay. So, here goes. I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re right: there is a difference between sex and love.” She shot me a glare, just in case I wanted to renege on my promise. When I didn’t, she added, “Wren finally convinced me.”

“For real? How?”

“She didn’t mean to. It was when she was telling me what it was like to have sex with you. I was sort of annoyed at first, partly because she’s done it and I haven’t, but also ’cause I thought I should be annoyed. Yeah, it was one of those times. You know, when I automatically feel a certain way because I think I’m supposed to.

“I got over it. But then I started getting nervous, ’cause she was talking about how good you are in bed and what it felt like to have your dick inside her. That’s when I remembered Simon and how it hurt with him. But I told you that already.”

I nodded.

“Anyway, then I started thinking about what she was really talking about, and I realized it was ‘just sex’ with her. I know she loves you, but it isn’t the same as you and me.”

“No.”

“That’s why I decided you might be right about the whole sex versus love thing. You remember the first night we were at the cabin? We talked about how long I waited with Simon?”

“Sure. What about it?”

“You said you want to have sex with me, make love to me, and… um…

fuck me.”

I chuckled, but it was mostly at her reluctance to use the word.

She shot me a glare but calmed down when she read my expression. “I normally don’t use language like that,” she admitted, “but this is important.

Besides, I think I’m going to be saying it a lot, especially where you’re concerned, so I might as well get used to it.”

“Fair enough. I’ll try not to tease you about it.”

“Thank you. Anyway, I used to think sex and making love and…

fucking… were the same thing. Then I realized they’re different for you. I should’ve figured it out sooner, especially since I know how you use words.

You paint with them, so they’re not ‘just words.’ They’re shades of meaning and different emotions for you, like colors on a palette for me, or different tools when I sculpt.”

“That’s exactly what they are. They’re tools to shape meaning.”

“Right. So if you say you want to have sex with me, you mean something completely different than if you want to make love to me.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And neither of those are the same as… um… fucking me.”

“No.”

She paused and thought about what she wanted to say next. “You probably figured out by now that I have a pretty vivid imagination.”

It seemed completely random, but I went along with it and said, “It’s why you’re so creative.”

“Maybe. But it’s definitely why I’m so weird about sex. I think about it all the time. And not just vanilla Penthouse Forum stuff.” She grinned up at me. “Yeah, Wren told me about that. She said I’m your hottest fantasy, and I think she’s right. But I’m not the Forum. I’m… um…” She shot me a

nervous look. “I’m Variations.”

My eyes tried to pop out of my head. “Have you actually read Penthouse Variations?”

“Of course. Duh. Brooke’s mother used to keep them under her bed.

We’d sneak in and read them after school. Where d’you think I got some of my wild ideas?”

“I really had no clue,” I said in disbelief.

“Mmm hmm. Sister Prune would have a heart attack if she knew all the things I wanna do with you. And I hope you know,” she added earnestly,

“I’ve never told anyone some of the things I’ve told you. None of my girlfriends and definitely none of the guys. Even Wren doesn’t know some of this stuff. Okay? Just so you understand.”

“I do.”

She smiled. “I like hearing you say that.”

“I know. That’s why I say it.”

“See? You even do little things to make me happy.”

“I do.”

“Thank you, Mr. Romantic. But you distracted me again. We were talking about sex versus love versus fucking.” She grinned. “Your penis twitches every time I say it. Watch. Fucking.” Her eyes shone as she looked down at the proof. Then she bent and sucked gently. “Mmm, you taste good.”