Page 100 of Holly Jolly July

I think for a moment. “I think I’ve orgasmed, like once? Maybe?”

“If youthinkyou’ve done it, then you probably haven’t,” she states.

“It wasn’t anything like that,” I say, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb as if her earth-shattering orgasm is somewhere behind us. “I wish I could do anything half that incredible. But I can’t. Not with other people, not with myself. I’ve tried, but I just end up getting sore and tired before I get anywhere. I end up just faking it, with everyone, and I...” I bite my lip. Mariah rubs my leg, encouraging me to continue. “I don’t want to fake it with you.”

“Aw, love.” She squeezes my calf.

“With my first boyfriend...” I swallow against a flood of sudden emotion, hoping that if I open myself up to her emotionally it will be a fraction of how I felt when she opened herself up to me physically. I can’t share my body with her, not in the way she shared hers with me, but I can share my mind. And I hope that’s enough. “My firstrealboyfriend—who I had sex with for the first time—after a few times he complained. He told me I was too quiet, too boring. I had no idea what he was talking about, I was just being myself. So he showed me some porn, and I was like,this isn’t real. It’s performative. They’re acting.I was confused because I thought I wasn’t supposed tofake it, you know? I may have been a newb in the sack, but I’d readCosmomagazines. But he said that’s what turned him on, that’s what he wanted, so I did it. I went along with it, making all the noises the professionals do, and he was happier with it, but it totally ruined it for me. I felt like... like...”

“Like it was all about him and not about you?”

I nod, the tension in my chest releasing slightly, knowing she understands.

Mariah nods. “I feel the same way. In a different way, but the same. I come very easily. Like, I’ve orgasmed going down a bumpy road before.”

“Lucky,” I tease.

She smiles at me, then shrugs. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty great.”

“Right? And it’s so frustrating because I want to, and I try to, I have all sorts of toys. Every guy I’ve ever told decides it’s his personal mission to be the first, like there’s something he has that the others don’t, and he has some special key to my vagina.”

Mariah laughs. “Oh my god, I can totally picture that.”

“And all the TV I watch and all the books I read always have these women who you barely touch them and they come, and I’m like,what’s wrong withme? Why can’t I?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” she states fervently. “It’s actually quite common. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Every person is different. But I get what you mean, about men making it about them. For me, yeah, it’s easy for me to get off, I can get off multiple times in one go, multiple times a day—”

“Braggart,” I tease.

She smiles before continuing. “But men, they always act like they’re the shit, they’re responsible for my body and how I feel, and it feeds into their own ego about how awesometheyare, and it gets tiring after a while. Why do they always have to make it about them?”

“Right? That must be annoying, too.”

“So I get it. Not the whole thing, about you not being ableto orgasm, or being forced to fake it in bed with your partners so they can feel like they’ve accomplished something. But I see where you’re coming from.”

“Thank you.” I relax back into her. “It’s just, with us, I haven’t had to pretend at all. I act so often in my life—between work, and making friends, and sex—and I haven’t done that with you. For better or worse, I’ve been myself.”

Mariah sits up to meet me, our bare chests touching, her wild blue curls falling to the side of her face. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear then nuzzles her nose against mine. “I know what it’s like to pretend to be different than you are, and I don’t want that for you. I like being honest with each other. That’s the only way I ever want it to be. And if you don’t want me going down on you, or touching you at all, that’s fine. I respect that, and I’ll honour your wishes. I’m happy to be your pillow princess.”

I giggle at the term.

Mariah kisses me softly, lips hovering. “But just know that I’d love to enjoy your body, to show you how beautiful you are, and I wouldn’t expect anything in return. You wouldn’t have to react. There wouldn’t be a goal in mind, an end game, anything I’d need from you. It would just be you and me, and not a care in the world, and whenever you’d want me to stop you could just give my hand a squeeze and I would. Okay?”

I think it over, about how nice that sounds, how great it would be to feel her on me the way I felt her. But I’m not ready to share myself with her in that way. An anxious vise grips my chest, imagining her working so hard to bring me pleasure, her disappointment when she can’t, moving on to someone else who can make her feel that same rush of excitement as I did when I was with her.

Mariah nuzzles her nose into my cheek, and I can’t help but smile, my thoughts going back over her words and settling on something else she said, repeating it over and over, the anxiousball in my stomach slowly being replaced by a warm glow. “I like not having a goal. I like justbeingwith you.”

She nods, kissing down my neck, murmuring against my skin. “I know what you mean.”

I pull her closer, nuzzling my nose into her hair. “If I’d known it was like this with a woman, I’d have tried it a long time ago.”

Interstitial

Int. Apartment Hallway - Night

James and Annie walk slowly down the hall side by side.

ANNIE

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