Page 11 of The List
“Let me help you,” I tell her. “I want to do the rest of The List.”
Chapter 4
Cassie
Super awesome wild-ass (holy shit they’re gonna kill me) sex stuff to figure out before D-day…
By Cassondra R. Michaels
Sex position called the Post Hole Digger (sounds like something to only do once)
Hair pulling while bent over kitchen counter and spanking with a spatula or pancake turner or ???
Pokey wheelie thing
Crazyhawt sex with a dark-haired, anonymous stranger with great abs
Outdoor sex in the snow (WTF?!? Frostbite, not sexy!)
Sex in public. In a car, in a bar, on a boat… DEFINITELY not with a goat (thank God!)
Pop Lisa’s workout ball while having sex on it
I kissed a girl, and apparently really liked it (Umm…I don’t even like @#$% Cherry ChapStick)
Roleplay (cop and jewel thief? Sexy tycoon and naive college student? Buy schoolgirl costume in case they ask)
Naughty spa day at super-snooty place for rich assholes. Mud bath, massage, and wild times in the ladies’ changing room.
I’ll be honest. If I’d known I’d find myself sitting naked in bed with a stupid-hot naked guy determined to fulfill all my sexual fantasies, I might have put a little more thought into my list.
Not that I’d necessarily add or delete anything. It’s just a little?—
“Pokey wheelie thing?” Simon looks at me, one eyebrow raised. He’s still naked, but he’s wearing his glasses again and has my green paisley quilt covering his junk.
Pity, that.
I scoot a little closer to him and peer at the screen of my laptop, pretty sure this is the first time it’s been on any lap besides mine. A naked lap at that.
“After three glasses of wine, I forgot what it was called,” I tell him. “Doctors use them for neurological testing to gauge nerve reactions. It’s like a tiny, sharp stainless steel pinwheel on the end of a stick that’s about?—”
“A Wartenberg wheel?”
“Yes! That’s it.” I’m pretty sure a guy who looks like Simon knows about it because he has a whole room full of sex toys cataloged in alphabetical order.
Then again, I may be reading him wrong. Yes, he’s confident, but he’s more cerebral than I pegged him at first. It’s not just the glasses, either. There’s the tiniest hint of awkwardness there, like he spent his teen years playing video games instead of making out in the backseat of a Mustang.
The way he’s looking at me now makes me wish I’d put the Mustang thing on the list. Maybe it’s not too late to add it.
“So, you dreamed up all these things over the years,” he says, “but you’re telling me you never did any of them?”
“That is correct,” I reply, a little annoyed by my own awkward formality.
He nudges his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But deep down, you kinda want to do them? Want to try out being the wild girl you pretended to be for your sisters?”
It’s not until he’s said the words out loud that I realize he just hit the nail on the head. I nod and swallow hard, trying to get my bearings. “Yes,” I admit. “I guess that might be true.”
“Then the offer still stands,” he says. “To help with the Fucket List.” His smile is warm and open as he shifts his gaze back to the computer screen. “Tell me about the ‘pokey wheelie thing,’” he says. “The Wartenberg wheel. Why did you choose that?”
