A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,19
do not like exchanging bacteria-laden saliva,” I clarify. “You do like kissing, so I will kiss you in any way that you desire.”
She frowns and gazes at the white cloth napkin already spread across her lap even though we still have not been greeted by our server. That is twenty-eight minutes and twelve seconds behind schedule now. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t also want to do.”
“I want to make you happy.” The words sound so simple, but that is the tricky thing about words. They are almost never simple. Language is utterly exhausting. Most people thrive on language. People are also equally complicated. And exhausting.
Liv raises her eyes, but they get stuck on my mouth. She is obviously thinking about exchanging saliva. “What do you think would make me happy?”
“Kissing. And a baby.” I am not entirely convinced a baby with me will make her as happy as possible, but I am a solid alternative to spending thousands of dollars on artificial insemination and fertility treatments. Saving money might make up for the shortcoming of choosing me as her sperm donor. Those are funds she will need for when the baby is born. Child-rearing is grossly expensive. We will not be able to afford fancy dates like this soon. “I would appreciate it if you would make me a list of anything else that makes you happy. I will try to guess on my own, of course, but it will be easier and more efficient if you provide me with factual information that I do not have to estimate.”
With other women, my estimations were always spot-on. It was rather easy to please them. I simply stuck to the script and gave them what years of research told me they wanted. That will not do with Olivia. The prize is much bigger now. I do not want a few orgasms and someone to attend social functions with. I want the rest of our lives together. For her to fall in love with me. I have never attempted such a feat with another woman.
She smiles. Liv has the most beautiful smile. Her lips have never needed lipstick to make them more attractive to me. “It would make me very happy if you’d do things that also make you happy.”
It would make me happy to leave this restaurant right now and spend the rest of the night in bed, earning the reward she gave me last night. I do not think that is what she is talking about though. Since I only have an old script and no meaningful basis for comparison, I take her hand and bring it to my lips again. The sensation of dragging such a sensitive part of my body against her soft skin soothes my anxieties. They are not gone completely. They never are. But they are infinitely more manageable for the few moments that are socially acceptable for me to behave this way.
“Does that make you happy?” she whispers, not attempting to wrest her hand free of my grasp a second time.
“It does,” I murmur against her skin, wishing I did not have to let go in fourteen seconds.
But I do, so I do. Liv’s eyes are half lidded. What is visible of her pupils are much larger than normal. The pulse at her neck beats at a slightly faster pace than resting. Her breasts rise and fall more quickly as well.
I recognize this expression and these physical characteristics. Lust, smitten, attraction, arousal, a release of chemical signals and electrical impulses that increase blood flow and mucus production in the female genitalia to prepare the body for the desired act of mating.
Interesting. By my calculations, I actually overstepped my allotted time of physical contact and not in the commonly accepted way of a simple press of my lips to her hand.
I am just about to ask if she would like to leave and begin practicing optimal sexual relations for conception when the waiter arrives at our table.
Oh, sure. Now he wants us to place our drink orders.
Things speed up considerably after he delivers simple waters to our table as if he is trying to make up for lost time. Our appetizers, salads, and dinners are served in short order, which leaves me feeling just as off-kilter as before. Nothing is running according to schedule. To make matters worse, Olivia seems immune to the usual small talk conversation starters. She simply eats her food, smiles, and remains unnaturally quiet.
She is not showing me that