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Seamus
“No,” she croaks.
“Why not? No one is looking.”
“It’s not that,” she says, shrinking inward.
“Come on, what are fuck faces among friends?” Her eyes narrow. “Believe it or not, I’m only trying to help.”
“I know,” she says, growing flustered. “I’m just not certain I can do this. It doesn’t feel natural and I-I-I don’t want to force things.”
I spread out on the couch. “Allie, mind blowing orgasms are not natural. They’re the result of fuck faces and don’t let anybody tell you differently.”
“Um,” she says, or something like that.
“I’m going to teach you a lot tonight,” I tell her. “Some of it you may not be ready for, but they’re things you need to learn. Men will always make you feel good if they feel they’re rocking your world. The more a man sees your pleasure, the harder they’re going to give it to you. You understand?”
“Yes,” she squeaks.
Hell, is it hot in here or is it me and Allie? “I’m not trying to brag here,” I say. “But what I’ve seen in women’s faces have helped me become the animal I am in bed.”
“I figured,” she says, swallowing hard.
“Ah, yeah,” I say, my attention zoning in on her full lips. “Because I’m confident, I see those faces staring back at me every time I take a woman to bed, giving me even more confidence. It’s a win-win situation. Two confident people in bed equal multiple orgasms. Repeat.”
“Come on, Alz,” I say when she doesn’t. “Class is in session and I’m your hot teacher. Repeat after me, two confident people in bed equal multiple orgasms.”
She shakes her head awkwardly and trips through each word. “Two confident people in bed equal multiple orgasms.”
“That was a decent first start. Now, be a little more confident, and let me have it. Give me your best ‘I’m ready to come’ face.”
She covers her heart, gasping.
“That wasn’t it,” I say. “Was it?”
Her mouth opens and closes several times.
“Shit,” I say. “Now you just look like a fish. Did Andres do things to make you look like that in bed? Fucker, I should kick his ass.”
“I wasn’t trying!” she yells. “That was me trying to work through what you just said.”
“Which part?” I ask.
“The part about coming,” she says, whispering the last word.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Not that kind of coming,” she says, covering her face.
I cough into my hand.
“You’re laughing at me,” she accuses, since I very much am.
“No, baby, I’m laughing with you, because you’re so damn cute.”
“Fine. Just . . . fine.” She shakes out her hands. “Okay, here I go.”
She squints her face, opening and closing her eyelids, fast. “Do you have something in your eye?” I ask.
“No,” she says, like she can’t believe why I’d think such a thing.
“You sure? There’s gotta be something in there.”
“There’s not,” she insists.
I look real close. “Then what the hell are you doing?”
“Batting my eyelashes.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask.
“You told me to act seductive. I’m trying to be seductive like women are in the movies. And in the movies, they bat their eyelashes.”
“Women don’t do that shit,” I tell her. “You want to be seductive, take off your panties and throw them at me. I’ll be sure to catch.”
Once more, there goes her jaw falling open. “That can’t be it, either,” I say. “Tell you what, I’ll give you points by the way you hang your mouth open like that. Like you can’t believe how good it is. Now give me a little bit more with the eyes.”
“The eyes?” she asks. “Why? You just said women don’t bat their eyelashes.”
“’Cause they don’t. You want to flutter them.”
“Flutter them?” She frowns. “Wasn’t that what I was doing?”
“Hell, no. You were squinting and hiding the lust in your eyes when you should have been working it.” I make a circle motion around her face. “These babies don’t lie.”
“I’ll bet,” she says, not meaning one damn word.
“Try it again. Flutter, don’t squint, and crane your neck,” I tell her. “Like you can’t possibly keep still by the amount of pleasure blazing through you, like your head is going to shoot off your shoulders like a cannonball.”
“A cannonball?” she asks.
It’s like arousal is a completely foreign concept to her. “Your head doesn’t actually shoot off,” I explain.
She almost laughs, except then it’s like she’s suddenly shy again, rubbing her hands against her black sweats.
“Seamus, I don’t know about this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really nice of you to help me out, but I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like.”
I don’t like how lost she appears. I take her hand, hoping to settle her fears. “Forgotten what what’s like?”
Her gaze falls to our hands. “To feel a real man touch me,” she says.
Every word lands on my chest like falling stones. She doesn’t hold my gaze, but I’m still watching her, realizing just how much she’s missed out on.
“The most physical contact I’ve shared with a man these past few years has been a solid handshake, usually from a client.”
“A handshake?” I ask. “From some guy in his eighties?”
She smiles softly. “Sometimes they’re as young as sixty.”
“Oh, good. I was worried there for a moment.”
I kiss her hand when she laughs. I’m not sure where this might go tonight, but I’m ready for it to go somewhere if she is.
“As I was saying,” she says. “It’s peachy keen you want to help me with my romance issues but—”
She stops when I hold my hand up. “See, that’s kind of your first problem. We’re not talking romance, were talking about moving furniture, ripping clothes off with teeth, and forgetting your confirmation name.”
“Oh,” she says.
“Damn right,” I assure her. “Peachy keen is not a word that comes up when you’re in the zone. You hear what I’m saying? You want words that go with that face you’re trying to make. So, no golly gee, no wowzers—nothing you’d say during mass when you see the altar boy carrying the offering trip over his Goddamn robe and send the body of Christ scattering down the aisle.” I blow out a sigh. “In my defense, I had a little holy wine before show time.”
“Mm,” she says.
“It’s time to take that leap, Alz. Time to show me what you want from a man, and how bad you want it.” I open my arms wide. “So, tell me what you’re going to say. Those dirty, nasty, freaky things you said in your head when you did go at it. It will help with the fuck face. It will help bring that navy ship into port and allow the lucky bastard in bed with you to give you all the explosions his missiles can muster. Let me have it.” Cause I need to believe you want more than my friendship.
“I can’t give you the kind of facial expressions you seek,” she says, watching me carefully.
If I didn’t feel stuck in the friend zone before, I feel it now. “Why?” I manage.
She wrings her hands. “I’m not positive I’ve had an orgasm before.”
“You mean with Andres?” I scoff. “Not exactly a shock there, Alz.”
“I mean with anyone.”
“Come again?” I ask, certain I misheard.
“An orgasm,” she says.
“I know what it is,” I make a flipping motion with my finger. “I mean the other part, about you not being sure if you’ve ever had one. That can’t be right.”
She buries her face in her hands. “Look, I know you could probably make any woman orgasm with just a flex of your muscles and a wink of those darling baby blues.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I admit. I frown when I realize how upset she is. “What’s wrong?”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “I’m having a hard time,” she says. “These issues and experiences. I’ve never had anyone to discuss them with.”
“You do now,” I say. I’m trying to make her feel better, but now it’s like she wants to cry.
“All right,” she says. “Fine. I’ll tell you.” She turns down the T.V. “I’m not sure I’ve had an orgasm. Ever.”
It’s like she’s ready to crawl under the table. “I can’t blame Andres for leaving me,” she adds. “Like you said, had I made the appropriate faces, he would have been more confident and improved his technique.”
“He has a little dick, doesn’t he?”
It might take everything Allie has not to kick me in the face. “Does it matter? I was always told size doesn’t matter.”
“Two things,” I say, holding out a finger for each for emphasis. “One, only men with small dicks say that. And two, what woman in her right mind thinks a rowboat is better than a Navy ship packing plenty of ammo?”
“Well, when you put it that way...” she says.
I move closer to her when she curls forward. “Allie, I wish you could see what I see when I look at you. You’re a woman any man would be lucky to have.”
Through eyes shimmering with tears, she smiles at me. “I wish I could believe you. But Andres did have me and he cheated. Not with a stranger. With my sister.”
“I know. But did you ever think it wasn’t about how Andres felt, but how Valentina feels?”
She cocks her head. “What do you mean?”
I glance around her townhouse, how nice everything is, how clean, how loved. “Alz,” I say. “Look at where you live. How much did you drop on this place, three-quarters of a mil, maybe more?”
“Something like that,” she admits, her gaze sweeping over my face.
“Bills you earned with hard work that Valentina was too lazy to commit to. Valentina didn’t go to college. She could have, but she didn’t. Instead, she went to Paris, leaving you to spend years earning a degree. It gave you a one-up Valentina didn’t want you to have. So would marriage and a family with Andres. So, what did she do? She knocked you down a few pegs by taking Andres, then making you think you’d never have anything better.”
Allie purses her lips together, listening, saying nothing.
“Think about it,” I say. “Valentina didn’t run away with Andres. She ran around Europe until those modeling contracts dried up. When was the last time you saw her on the cover of anything? Or heard about her at all, besides shit she fed your family?” I’m not saying this to Allie to make her feel better. I’ve had my suspicions and Googled Valentina. The most recent post about her was almost three years ago. “Valentina is only back because Andres has the money to support her lifestyle. You know it. I know it.”
I’m sure Allie will argue with me and almost kiss her when she doesn’t. “That’s possible,” she says, giving what I say a lot of thought. “I almost didn’t graduate. I was so upset when I learned she and Andres had slept together. With one blow, that world I’d so carefully constructed blew up in my face and my sister was the one who flipped the switch.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Which is why I think you should move on from them both. Today was one hell of a start.”
She squeezes my hand. I don’t realize I’m back to holding it. It’s nice, especially in the silence that follows. I let her have all the time she needs, preparing for more talk about Andres and Valentina, but grinning when that’s not what comes.
“Okay, Mr. Alpha Male,” she says at last. “We’ve established your prowess. Can we perhaps work on mine?”
I chuckle and scratch my head. “Oh, yeah, this is about you, isn’t it?” She rolls her eyes, laughing. “Okay. If you want great sex, make the man want to give it to you. Show him you like what he’s doing so you get more of it. That’s where the fuck face comes in. It’s not enough to make noises—you make noises, right?” I don’t really want to know, but it’s like I have to know.
“I guess.”
“You guess?” I ask.
“Do whimpers count?”
“Depends on how loud,” I ask, biting my tongue so I don’t beg her to demonstrate. I know it’s wrong that Andres and all the needle-dicks that followed never gave Allie anything good. But I can’t say I feel that bad about it.
“Will you show me?” Allie asks, her voice an octave higher. “So I may have a better idea?”
“I don’t whimper,” I admit. “Unless the cookies are hard and stale.”
Her jaw pops open again. “That was a joke, Alz,” I assure her.
Allie shakes out her hands. “Show me yours. Your . . . face. Please.”
Man, do I love the way she says please. “Watch and learn,” I say.
I dive deep into my memories. Back to the last time I had sex, going on about six months ago. Shit. Was it that long ago? I look back at Allie and how sexy she looks. Guess it was.
The bartender was tall, big rack, and flashy; everything I like in a woman. I focus hard, trying to remember her face. I frown. I’m bad with names and remembering women, but I should be able to remember enough of her face during the act to conjure my own expression.
My eyes partially close. I remember grabbing her ankles, holding them up so her toes pointed toward the ceiling, and plowing deep. My skin starts to prickle with heat. But instead of long dark braids fanning across the bed, short bed-tossed curls gather around Allie’s face beneath me.
My head pops up and my eyes fly open to meet Allie’s dead on. “Wow,” she says, breathless.
“Yeah, wow.” I clear my throat so harshly it makes me cough. She pats my back when I fall into a fit of coughs.
“Are you okay? Here, let me get you some water.”
She rushes into the kitchen. It should be a good thing and give me time to calm my shit. Instead, it gives me a perfect view Allie’s round Latina ass bouncing along. If this was anybody else I would just lean back and admire the view, knowing what’s coming next.
Instead, I’m struck dumb. Our terms didn’t include fucking. I can’t do that to her. She’s not a woman I can sleep with and then walk away. We still have another wedding—two if we go to Valentina’s. I don’t want to screw this up with sex. Christ, I want more from Allie, but I want her to want the same thing, not long for something she thinks she missed out on.
Allie returns with a cool bottle of water from the refrigerator. I stop coughing, taking a sip when she offers it. Allie is like that, constantly giving, even when things should be all about her.
I take another few gulps of my water. As I watch her, I realize she’s not watching me. Her gaze drifts toward the television, where a couple is crying, telling each other goodbye. Great, that’s not what I need to see or anything.
“Seamus, do you think if I would’ve been better at expressing what I was feeling in the bedroom, Andres wouldn’t have looked elsewhere?”
“No.”
Allie seems surprised. “Why?”
I don’t hold back. “Because no matter how much money Andres waves around or what a big shot he is with the government, he’s still that same little prick who was never good enough to make the football team, the guy that most women ignored, and who was never anything special.”
I take a moment, trying to find the words so she doesn’t think I’m saying things just because I don’t like him. “Valentina . . . I’m not sure what he feels about her. Not really. From what I’ve seen, she’s just another FU to anyone who ever put him down. He was never going to be homecoming king, but he made sure everyone knows he fucked the queen.”
The way Allie regards me tugs at my heart. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just think for all the things I did wrong in bed, Valentina did the right ones.”
“I’m not sure what kind of faces she makes in bed,” I admit. “But I guarantee they’re not real. He’s a loser, Allie. He always will be.” I scoot closer, even though there’s a part of me that warns against it. I skim a hand across Allie’s cheek. “You’re not and it’s about time you had someone better.”
Her landline rings, because why the hell shouldn’t it?
“Just ignore it,” she says, when I turn in the direction of her kitchen.
She moves closer to me, her gaze warming.
“I will,” I murmur.
I lean in as her voicemail picks up. “Alegria. Pick up. Pick up the phone now!”
Allie’s mother’s voice rings with devastation. I think someone is dead or dying. Allie thinks the same, rushing toward the kitchen.
“You broke your sister’s heart!”
Mamacita’s voice echoes, bouncing along the tile lining the kitchen wall. The accusation and fury behind it slow Allie’s steps.
“Tell her she broke your heart,” another woman yells, her aunt I guess.
“She let down the family,” yet another woman yells. “All of us.”
“This was your sister’s big day,” Mamacita screams, cutting off another voice that tries to chime in. “The day I’ve waited for that you never gave me!”
Mamacita is in hysterics, the way she’s breaking down is bordering on crazy. Holy shit. This is what Allie puts up with?
“All you had to do was pretend. You could pretend for a few hours to be happy for me, for your family—”
Allie lunges at the receiver, turning it on and abruptly cutting off the speaker. “Enough!” she yells. “You will not treat me this way. You won’t. Don’t call. I don’t want to talk to any of you.”
She disconnects, her hands shaking so badly, she can’t house the receiver back on the base. When she finally does, she clutches her hands against her chest, staring at the phone as if waiting for the shrieking to resume.
My arms wrap around, pressing her back against my chest. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. They . . . I’m sorry.”
I don’t have to see her sweet face to know it’s wet with tears. I kiss the top of her head and lead her back to the living room where the wine and what’s left of the food remains.
I sit her down beside me, keeping my arm around her as I flip through the channels and find a really stupid movie to watch.
Allie did something brave today. She put her sister in place only to be rewarded with shit she didn’t deserve.
She curls into my chest, a place I don’t see anyone else belonging. We watch God-awful movies and we fall asleep. It’s what friends do. Friends, and maybe a man who wants more.
