last quarter and comparing them with the projected numbers of this quarter.
So far, so good. What she shows makes sense.
And, it’s apparent by the nodding heads and reassuring comments, the rest of the table agrees.
Just as she directs a few questions toward her colleague Mark Wallace, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I take a sip from my cup and discreetly pull my phone out to check my messages.
Maybe: I think I want to try DP.
I nearly choke on my coffee.
What in the hell?
In the middle of an important meeting or not, I think my brain will explode if I don’t respond.
Me: Uh…no, you don’t.
And, in true Maybe fashion, she doesn’t hesitate to keep this insane conversation going.
Maybe: I’ve been told it’s the most intense sexual experience a girl can have. Why wouldn’t I want to try it?
Holy hell. Where is this coming from?
Me: You’ve been told? Where are you getting this advice, exactly?
Maybe: I heard two girls talking about it at Starbucks.
I bite my lip to prevent my laughter.
Cap’s crazy sister Lena, I could understand. But Starbucks? Of all the fucking places.
Me: You heard people talking about DP and decided that’s the next step for you, all while you were ordering coffee?
Maybe: Yes.
Me: You were at Starbucks, just picking up a cup a joe to start your day, and you decided right then, DP is the next thing you want to do?
Maybe: Yes! Why do you keep asking me things I’ve already told you?
I bite my lip and type again.
Me: Maybe, do you have any idea what DP is?
Maybe: Uh…an intense sexual experience. Duh.
I grin. Jesus, why is she so adorable?
Me: Let me rephrase. Do you know what DP stands for?
Maybe: Double Pleasure.
A laugh escapes my throat, and everyone sitting at the conference table turns their eyes toward me.
“Sorry,” I mutter and nod toward Emily. “Please, continue.”
She gets back to the meeting, and I discreetly type out another text message to Maybe.
Me: Double Penetration.
Maybe: Huh?
Me: That’s what DP stands for. Double Penetration.
Maybe: I don’t get it.
Me: In most cases, it requires three people, two of whom have dicks.
When she doesn’t respond, I keep going.
Me: Two men.
Me: One woman.
Me: Two cocks.
It’s not until that final text that she chimes back into the conversation.
Maybe: IT’S THAT???
Me: Yes, it’s that.
Maybe: Oh my God. I thought it was like two orgasms or something! I’ve never been penetrated by one penis, much less two at the same time! Gah!
Me: Sounds like you’re changing your tune on DP…
Maybe: Have you ever done it?
Jesus. This not at all where I want this conversation to go.
I’d much prefer to keep my wild and crazy past just that. In the damn past.
So, I do my best to change the subject.
Me: What are your plans tonight?
Maybe: OH MY GOD. YOU HAVE DONE IT
Me: How about Tuesday night? Do you want to grab some dinner Tuesday night?
Maybe: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’VE DONE IT.
Me: Personally, I’m in the mood for Mexican.
Maybe: Do you DP often???
Fucking hell. She’s relentless.
Me: I’m not much of a threesome kind of guy, Maybe.
Maybe: What’s that supposed to mean?
Me: It means, when I’m with a woman, I’m selfish. I like to have her all to myself. Plus, I’m not a twenty-one-year-old bastard anymore who looks at sex like it’s some kind of challenge to try anything and everything. It was a one-time experience when I was a wild college kid. And not one I want to repeat. It’s just not my style.
Maybe: OMG you did it in college. PLEASE GOD DO NOT TELL ME THE SECOND COCK WAS MY BROTHER’S
Me: That sentence is disturbing on so many levels. But no, Evan and I didn’t make a porno version of Three’s Company.
Maybe: THANK GOD. I thought I was going to have to give up food for the day.
Me: LOL You’re safe.
Maybe: If threesomes aren’t your style, then what is?
Back to the sex. Just when I thought I’d escaped at least somewhat unscathed. Still, I can’t help but answer her honestly.
Me: Thorough. Sex for me isn’t a sprint. It’s a marathon. I like to take my time. Explore. Savor it. And I don’t like to fucking share.
Maybe: Are you sexting me right now?
Me: HAHA. Nice one. And no, you asked, and I’m nothing if not honest.
Maybe: Well, your honesty is…well… Anyway… So, about that dinner?
Hmm…I’m far too intrigued by her sudden change in tune.
Me: Are you aroused right now, kid?
No response.
Me: Shall I change the subject to dinner?
Maybe: Yes.
But before I can respond and successfully steer our dangerous conversation to