Page 26 of Pour Decisions
This wine was a terrible idea. It’s erasing every single reason why I should keep JD at arm’s length.
Butif it’s the wine talking and I’ll find my sense when I sober up, what’s wrong with a little lusting?
God, I need to get laid.Notby JD, though.
JD excuses himself for a moment, giving me a second to check my phone. Mom sent me a text of her in her new place, a big smile on her face. I text her back a heart, and she texts back,let me cook for you here! The kitchen is amazing and we can catch up. I want you to meet Dillon.
My buzz deflates. How would she feel knowing I’m in contact with JD again? I hadn’t thought about that and now the worry is creeping in. Would she be pissed off because we’re roommates? Or would she be fine with it because she split up with Raymond, her ex-husband at the center of my split with JD? I don’t even want to think about that.
I start shaping some ears for my Bubba sculpture, the tiny motion soothing me. I can’t let anxious thoughts kill tonight.
Hugh surveys everyone’s work again, before grabbing even more wine.
“Your next emotional prompt is pleasure, paired with this exotic chardonnay,” Hugh says.
“Pleasure.” JD has a hot voice—deep and a bit rough—so just hearing him say the word pleasure sends a tendril of warmth straight between my thighs. “That should be easier.”
It was always easy between us physically. Even with the slightest hints, he was able to get me, and I was able to get him. Like finding the kind of dance partner where you can just communicate with the nudge of the hand or a swivel of your hips.
JD lets out a long breath, more like he’s trying to steady himself than anything. His composure is rock solid when he’s sober, so the visible cracks in his facade tell me he’s feeling as tipsy as I am.
“You ok?” I ask, fiddling with my clay but not knowing what to put. It’s not like I don’t experience pleasure in my life, but the word is weighty. There’s stuff I like—dessert, naps, stuff like that, but pleasure? I can only think of one thing, and it came from the man sitting next to me.
“Just trying to fulfill the prompt.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “What are you going to make?”
“I have to dig deep down and find inspiration,” I say with a sigh.
“Deep down?” JD starts rolling clay on the table into a tube. “Hopefully not that deep.”
I bite my bottom lip and hold back a smile.
“Did you mean for that to be suggestive?” I ask.
“No, but it could be if you want,” he says, his tone even.
His flirting style—if it could be called that—was straightforward back when we first met, but it’s been so long since he’s done it that I’m taken aback.
I want it to be suggestive. I want it be so badly. It’s such a bad idea. But this night is making me entertain it.
“I’m not sure,” I say instead. I still don’t know what to make. “This shouldn’t be so hard. And don’t even say it.”
“Do you really think I’d say that?” JD huffs, but there’s amusement behind it.
“I didn’t even have to say it for you to know what I’m talking about. About why it shouldn’t be so hard.”
“That’s what she said,” the man in his forties across from us blurts. His cheeks go red, his expression sheepish. “I couldn’t let it go.”
“Thanks.” I start pulling pieces off my lump of clay. “I think I have an idea.”
I start to make petals for a rose. Symbolic and basic, sure, but it’s all I can think of. Calling my vagina my “flower” is something my prim high school sex ed teacher would do.
“A flower?” He looks at me, then at my sculpture. “Isn’t it supposed to be an animal?”
“Hugh’s going to love it. He accepted a Pokémon as an animal—at least flowers exist. What are you…” I look down at what he’s doing. He’s been fiddling with his lump of clay and now it looks… “Is that…?”
It looks like a penis. But it’s clearly not—he has some flaps hanging off it. But itreallylooks like a dick. I mean, I’d understand if he sculpted one. His is very, very nice and brought me quite a lot of pleasure.
“I was going to go with a lizard, but if we’re saying fuck it to the rules, it’s now supposed to be a space shuttle.” He tilts his head to the side, as if changing the angle will make it look different from what it is. “Not a dick.”
