Page 25 of For a Goode Time Call…
God,sohorny.
But was I using all that to see something that’s not there?
I didn’ think I was. I think he felt it—felt a connection, something hot and sizzling between us.
And then he walked away. Picked me up, set me aside, and walked away.
But there was a whole boiling shitload of conflict going on as he did so, which made me think he has some hang-ups of his own. He seemed so self-contained, so confident, so at ease in his skin and with who he was, which made it hard to imagine what he could be insecure about. I needed to know.
And, if I was going to be honest with myself, the look in his eyes, the burning desire that was so blatantly obvious…? It made me crazy. I wanted him to act on it. I wanted him to show me what it would feel like for him to let that loose. I mean, god what a feeling that must be. To have a man that powerful, that strong just…takeme?
Yes, please.
Rick…I knew I had to stop thinking about him, but it was impossible not to compare them. Rick was my only truly serious relationship. I had a boyfriend in high school, my first kiss, my first trip to second base, and the boy to whom I’d given my virginity. We’d dated from sophomore year through me leaving for Julliard, and I’d known all the time that it would end upon graduation. He’d known it too, because he had his own plans—Stanford for a double major in computer science and business, and then intern at a dot-com in Silicon Valley for some experience, and then strike out to create his own startup dot-com, in the biotech field. Last I’d checked, William had done everything he’d planned on doing, and his startup was doing great. We’d been good together, William and me. It had been fun, exciting. We’d known all along it was a relationship with a finite term, and so we’d set out to extract the most amount of fun and enjoyment from our time together as possible.
As horny teenagers with busy parents, we’d had plenty of time and opportunity to explore and indulge our sexual curiosity, and that had been quite a wild time of learning myself and my body and my desires. And what I’d learned, more than anything, is that I just rev at a higher level than most. I think that’s true of all of us Goodes. I know Lexie, more than any of us, has a libido that runs hot enough that she would probably call it an affliction. Charlie and I have talked at length about our struggles to find a partner who gets us, who satisfies us, who can keep up with us.
For my part, I’ve yet to find that. William came closest, I think. But that’s only because I was a young adult, at best, a girl just finding herself and just beginning to understand my body and what I wanted, and how to ask for it. I would say I’m a pretty sexually liberated woman—I regularly and enthusiastically take care of myself, and when I’m with a man I have no qualms about asking for what I want and indicating what I like and don’t. I just also know that most men don’t have the stamina or patience to truly stay with me, to satisfy me to the point that I’d really truly feel well matched. I enjoy myself when I’m with a partner, no doubt about that—but I’m often left feeling like, once he’s gone, that I need to find a few minutes to handle some unfinished business.
And I don’t mean that as a complaint or insult or anything negative about the men I’ve been with. I’m just…I need more, want more, I’m ready for more sooner. I want things crazier, hotter, wilder. I’m not an exhibitionist, don’t have any interest in being public about things. I just want a lot. And none of the men I’ve slept with so far have really met my deepest, strongest needs.
In a way, sexually speaking, Rick was honestly was my least satisfying partner. He was selfish. Well-endowed, had stamina, plenty of drive. But just didn’t seem to think much about what I was feeling, especially once he was close to his own climax. If I wanted him to do something, and I asked, he would, and knew what he was doing, but…I don’t know. I guess some part of me wanted him to put my needs first, at some point. To think about my desires as much as he thought about getting himself to his enjoyment. He took me, sexually, as his right, as his toy to get himself off. And unless I clearly expressed what I wanted, he wouldn’t think about it.
God, now that I think about it objectively, Rick was an asshole.
And I stayed him with for…four years, nearly. I’d met him at Julliard, and we’d been hired at the troupe together, and the whole time, I don’t think I’d ever once been totally and fully sexually satisfied. What about emotionally?
Nope.
He’d been aloof, hard to communicate with, selfish. Spent more time with friends from the company than with me.
A thought occurred to me, then.
A horrifying thought which, if true, would probably just flat out wreck me the rest of the way.
I scrambled for my phone so fast I dropped it, but thankfully I kept a rubber case on it because I was always dropping it. I didn’t even think about what time it was, I just dialed.
It rang half a dozen times.
“Huh—hello?” A muzzy female voice. A pause. “Cass. It’s…it’s seven in the morning on a Saturday. What the hell?”
“Sorry, Charlie—if it makes you feel any better, it’s three a.m. here.” I swallowed hard. “Do you think Rick is gay?”
A long, long, weird pause. “Cass. Babe. You dumb sweet bitch. Yes, he’s gay.”
“You’re mean when you get woken up,” I muttered. “You say that like it should be obvious.”
She groaned, and I heard a faint click in the background as she turned on a light. “Cassie, sweetie, chicken dumpling, my lovey-dove.”
Oh boy. The idiotic terms of endearment—that’s when you knew Charlie was about to unload both barrels, usually something she had probably been harboring and keeping to herself until directly asked about. Like now.
“Rick is gayer than a gay pride festival.” She sounded…almost like she was holding back laughter. “I thought you knew.”
“No, I didn’t fucking know!”
“Well how the hell am I supposed to know what you know? It didn’t seem to me like he ever tried to hide it. He wears the tightest pants I’ve ever seen on a male who wasn’t in tights on stage in a ballet. He’s a fantastic dresser, and not just because his family is richer than god. He doesn’t have the flamboyant lisp or anything—like, he doesn’t talk like Jonathan fromQueer Eye, but he’s most definitely gay.”
“We had sex at least once a week for four years.”
