different positions, three orgasms, two condoms, thirty-seven flavors, whatever.
But he didn’t feel good. On the contrary, he felt vaguely nauseated, whether from the Scotch, from the fact that he hadn’t eaten, or from what he’d done. With Lacy, it wasn’t sex, it was a workout. She wanted everything, this position, that position, her on top, him on top. Do cowboy! I love cowboy! she had said at one point.
I’m a lawyer, not a cowboy, Larry had thought, but didn’t say. With Allie, he would have said it. They used to laugh in bed, early on. He’d loved to make her laugh.
Lacy was a marathoner with a lean body, muscular arms and legs, and small breasts because she had two percent body fat. After they were done, she’d jumped up, bounded into the bathroom, and turned on the water. Meanwhile Larry lay panting like a heart patient.
A shaft of sunlight shone through the sheer curtains, and he watched dust motes bump into each other in confusion. Everything had happened so fast. He’d slept with Lacy before he’d even unpacked. He still had his wedding band on. He was still Allie’s husband. He’d set a land speed record for adultery.
“Hi, pal.” Lacy emerged from the bathroom fully naked, strutting around. She had zero problem with him seeing her body, which was new for him. Allie was self-conscious when she was nude, and Larry felt the same way. There was a fat guy stuck in his head, and it was why he pulled up the sheet to cover his paunch. Also he was hiding his underwear, since they were plaid boxers. Single guys wore the tight black underwear that Kwame did, like bicycle shorts. Tommy Bahama? Or was it Tommy John? Larry made a mental note to get some and give himself a hernia.
“So how are you?” Larry asked, trying to make postcoital conversation.
“Oh, I know what you’re asking.” Lacy dropped the wet towel on the foot of the bed.
“You do?” Larry had no idea what she meant. He was worried about the wet spot her towel would make. Allie had trained him not to do that. No wet towels on the bed. She was right. He got it. Lacy didn’t.
“Sure. I have your number. I read you like a book.”
But we just met, Larry thought, but didn’t say. Meanwhile she was completely shaved, a look he wasn’t ready for. To tell the truth, he wasn’t a fan. Bottom line, vaginas weren’t any prettier than dicks.
“You guys are all alike.”
“We are?” Arg.
“Yes.” Lacy slipped into her thong, which reminded him of a slingshot. Surprisingly, it wasn’t lacy.
“How are we all alike?”
“Oh. You want an evaluation, like those emails you get after you buy something online. ‘Would you like to rate your experience?’ ”
“That wasn’t why—”
“Or like the evaluation sheets they hand out after your panel, with a one-to-five scale. ‘Number One, Unsatisfied. Number Two, Adequate. Number Three, Pleased. Number Four, Very Pleased. Number Five, Exceeded My Expectations.’ ”
Larry tried to laugh it off. “I was just being nice.”
“Nice?” Lacy put on her bra and a white silk T-shirt that skimmed her flat tummy. Larry had never had a stomach that taut in his life. Her belly button was a pierced frown.
“Yes, nice. Asking how you are. Getting to know you.”
“Oh, I see. So you want the section at the end of the form. ‘Please leave any comments to help improve our programs in the future.’ ”
“No, not like that.” Larry thought the joke was getting old.
“I’ve got to go. I’m late for my train.”
“Okay.” Larry thought they might get dinner, but evidently not.
“You’re not used to this, are you?”
Larry chuckled, busted. “No, I’m totally not. I told you. I’m a divorce virgin.”
“But you fooled around, didn’t you?”
Larry blinked. “No.”
“Come on. You can tell me.” Lacy smiled slyly.
“No, I never cheated on my wife.”
Lacy waved him off. “It’s generational.”
“Thanks.”
“You look like you’re judging me. I can tell by that look on your face.”
“No,” Larry said, meaning it. He didn’t know how to make his face look less judgmental.
“I’ve gotten this before. You’re not used to a woman having the same sexual needs as a man.”
“You think I’m sexist? I don’t think I’m sexist.” Larry was starting not to like Lacy.
“You were surprised that I had condoms.”
“No, I wasn’t.” I was surprised they were red.
“You don’t realize that women want sex the same as men.”
“Yes, I do,” Larry shot back, but he didn’t want sex the same as Lacy. He wanted intimacy, and she wanted