loosens lips, and the conversation shifts.
They’re no longer discussing a young girl raised in a survivalist family. They’ve sidestepped from the author’s first boyfriend to their own first loves. They then jump seamlessly to current lovers, husbands, and beaus.
As I let my distributor know I need twenty more of the new Nora Roberts romance, I hear that black-haired CarolAnn still likes it doggie-style at age sixty.
While checking on my shipment of quirky travel guides, I learn that hobo-chic Allison wants to explore clamps.
As I hit the order button on a new clean recipe book, I discover that skinny-jean-wearing Sara and her younger boyfriend like to park at the end of a deserted road so she can give him a blow job in the car. Sometimes, if Sara’s really frisky, her boyfriend will pull her hair and spank her.
During the blow job.
An unexpected pang of envy stabs me right in the solar plexus.
I want to know what that’s like. All of it—the blow job in the car, the spankings, the ease with which she talks about it. Most of all, I want to know how the hell studious-looking Sara has navigated the path to car spankings.
I step away from the desk and straighten some shelves, doing my best to pretend I’m not eavesdropping as I pick up a “You Can Have It All” style of self-help guide that I’m positive Clare knocked over earlier.
“Look, I know these aren’t crazy kinky things, but I feel like I’ve been liberated since Chuck left me and I met my new boyfriend,” Sara says, in a husky, Kathleen Turner-esque tone. “Chuck was the same old, same old. But Javier? No way. He’s a different creature entirely, and it’s freeing. Do you know what I mean?”
“Absolutely. You’re sexy and single and you have a hot man who wants you. There’s no reason you shouldn’t do exactly what you want to do,” CarolAnn adds, almost like she’s giving a you go, girl speech. Which she kind of is.
“How did you get Javier to pull your hair? Was it his idea or yours?” Allison asks, and I don’t want to tune out a second of this conversation even though it’s making me keenly aware of my lack of an interesting sex life.
I’ve never been spanked.
I’ve never bitten.
I have never given a blow job in a vehicle.
I used to think I was simply a good girl. I boxed myself into a category—I’m the safe one, I’m the one who likes beds.
And I do like beds.
But what if I like cars more?
With a deep, needy ache, I desperately want to know what I’m missing.
“Easy,” Sara declares, then details precisely how she accomplished the hair-pulling and spanking. I take furious mental notes, adding the ideas to my burgeoning plan.
If the sixty-something ladies in this book club are sowing their wild oats, it’s time for me to damn well do it.
I resolve to make a change.
Tomorrow night I’ll see Gabe at the bowling alley for the party. I intend to walk out of there with a solid plan to figure out what’s been missing all these years.
When the ladies leave, I say good night, lock the door, and grab a stack of how-to books. After a few hours of study, I make a list. Books rule. Research rocks.
By the time the clock chimes midnight, I have one hell of a plan.
I am woman. Hear me roar.
11
Gabe
“And I believe we set a record today.” Shaw stretches his neck, cracking it loudly as he slams his locker shut next to the baby-faced Charlie, one of the paramedics who works frequently with us.
“For the number of non-fatal medical emergencies?” I put the rest of my gear away at the end of our twenty-four-hour shift, which is thankfully, finally fucking over. Felt like a forty-eight-hour one. But with only minor injuries and no deaths or losses of limb, I’ll chalk it up to a damn good shift.
Shaw shakes his head. “No. For no phone numbers given out.”
Charlie drags a hand through his dark hair. “It’s a record shift of epic failures in that department.”
I roll my eyes. “You two clowns do know it’s called work? That thing we do all day long?”
“Huh.” Shaw scratches his unshaven jaw, affecting surprise. “Is that the name of it? Did you know that, Charlie?”
The younger man feigns shock. “I had no idea.”
I point to the two of them. “Well, I’m glad to finally be the one to inform you, since you seem to be under the impression that it’s a