The Lessons (14 page)

Ryan groaned and I went silent, my core erupting with heat as I splintered into a thousand pieces of light. Giant rolling waves of sensation swept over me and I was lost, lost on a sea of pleasure. I could hear nothing, see nothing, and experience nothing but pure, acute pleasure. I was wrapped around him but my body felt boneless and weightless, and I fell back against the mattress, limp as jelly. Ryan collapsed on me, us both panting, and I savored the feeling of his skin against mine before we loosened and he rolled off to the side.

After a few minutes, we’d both caught our breath. I stayed on my back, looking up at the ceiling and tried to keep my tone professional. “I think I’m going to need to practice that more.”

“Right. Yes. Definitely. Practice makes perfect.” His tone was serious. Well, as serious as one could be in a post orgasm fog.

“Not that that wasn’t—“

“No, it was.”

“But—that was good right? I mean, I don’t have any reference point, but—“

“Yes, Natalie. That was good. Very good.”

He sat up and looked at me. “Natalie, it’s important that you know that it’s not always like that.” I must have looked confused, because he continued. “There’s great sex and then there’s bad sex, and there’s also a whole lot of okay sex in between.”

“Why would anyone settle for anything less than great sex?” I murmured as I pulled the covers up over me.

He didn’t say anything.

Natalie

Lose Virginity

I couldn’t believe it.

I had finally done it. I was finally back on track.

And it was only in moments like these that I regretted not having any close girlfriends. After my appointment, I walked home. More strangers than normal smiled and said hello to me on the sidewalk, and I found myself wondering if they could tell I’d just had sex. I certainly couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Sex.

Sex with Ryan.

Sex sex sex sex sexsexsex.

Or maybe they were staring because of the stupid grin I had plastered on my face. Either way, once I got home, in trying to make sense of what had just happened, I ended up on the Internet. I Google-d stories of other people’s first-times, quickly surmising that climaxing was usually out of the question. I chalked that detail up to my experienced partner, and congratulated myself once again on being smart enough to seek out what I needed.

Well played, Reese.

After the forums got boring I even streamed a few free porn videos, but all of them ended with a money shot of a girl pretending to be excited about having a glop of cum on her face.

It all felt very different than what I’d just experienced.

I felt relieved and accomplished, and if I was being honest, maybe a little more attractive. Ryan had made it through the session without running for the hills, so maybe I
was
fuckable. In addition to these feelings, something else was nagging at me. I went to my desk and pulled out my copy of the contract. I scanned it, looking for something when I realized it wasn’t something in the contract that was bothering me, it was something Dr. Lerner had said.

“Working with a surrogate can sometimes elicit emotions, emotions that — for the un-prepared— can be overwhelming.”

I felt myself turn red, and then I flushed again when I realized I was blushing with no one around. Is this what I’d been feeling with Ryan? When we were in the elevator? At the office? For a moment, I berated myself for being so stupid and naïve and then I went to my desk and got out a notepad. At the top I wrote:

He loves me, he loves me not.

No. Way too flowery. I scratched it out and rewrote it:

Evidence Regarding Ryan Andrews

Okay, maybe a little CSI, but better. I started to list out the instances that made me think that maybe Ryan felt something for me, something that went beyond our ‘clinical’ relationship.

Yes

The elevator!!

Got alpha with Josh on the street

Meeting at the library

Said he loved my nipples at our last meeting

Called me babe

And then the reasons why I was crazy to even be considering he was into me:

No

Conversation in the bathroom at SFCS

Seemed angry at our last appointment at the hotel

Left quickly after Elevator-gate

Uses every opportunity to re-iterate that this is clinical

I had to admit it; the list was inconclusive at best. Was it stupid for me to have feelings for him? Yes. I didn’t need to list anything out to prove that to myself. But did
knowing
that I was being stupid actually fix the situation? Not at all.

So instead, I tried to ignore it. I threw myself into work for the rest of the week, trying not to think about what’d happened.

You know. The sex.

Sexy sex.

I found myself looking at the men in my office with new eyes, wondering what they’d look liked naked, making the beast with two backs. And I was thinking this about
everyone
. Even the ones that grossed me out. Then my thoughts would invariably fall back to my last appointment.

With Ryan.

Dang. It was good. He was good.
Great
actually. Again, not that I had anything to compare it to, but even he admitted it was great, and he was like, an expert. Having an expert say it was great, well, that was like, practically certifying it.

Yep, I’d basically had Certified Great Sex. Did that mean I was now officially no longer unfuckable? Sure seemed like it.

He also hadn’t said anything about stopping our appointments. I guess I had assumed that once we achieved penetration, well, it’d be over. Now that I’d done the deed, I felt like I needed more…practice.

And orgasms. I could live with more orgasms, too.

I chided myself once again. This was not the best week to be so distracted. The Forbidden concept was in full development, and I had back-to-back meetings planned for most days. I didn’t even see Brad until Friday afternoon, which was actually great. Not only did I not trust my horny self around him, but I felt guilty about going forward with our date, knowing I had these unresolved feelings about Ryan. Even if nothing was going to happen. Which it wasn’t.

“Knock, knock.”

I looked up. Brad had once again commandeered the doorframe of my office, his hands grabbing the top edge as he leaned in slightly.

Sexy Sex.

“Brad.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as all hell. “Hey. Come on in,” I said putting down the report I was reading. “What’s up? How are you?”

“Good, good. Just wanted to swing by—I haven’t seen you much this week.” He flashed his perfect cover-boy smile at me as he abandoned the doorframe for the chair across from me. That grin had probably made this dating thing very easy for him.

I winced as I shifted in my seat, still a little tender from yesterday. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been slammed with work. I’ve got this big audience development presentation next week and Cathy keeps emphasizing how important it is and how it’s going to set the stage for the entire marketing and communications plan for the next two years…”

“Ha, no pressure then?”

I smiled weakly. “Exactly. No pressure at all.”

“Well, she must have a lot of confidence in you if she’s just handing it over. Word on the street is that she’s,” he leaned in, “kind of a control freak.”

I chuckled and squinted at him. “Cathy? Hmm. Maybe. I don’t know. We work well together, but maybe I’m just lucky.”

Brad sat back in his chair. “So…I just wanted to check that we are still on for tomorrow night.”

I smiled. “Yes. We’re still on. What do you want to do?”

“I was thinking grab dinner and then catch a movie? The theater near my house is screening
Chocolat
.”

I wrinkled my nose, and Brad laughed.

“I thought all chicks liked
Chocolat
.”

I shook my head.

Brad looked confused. “But it has Johnny Depp.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Johnny Depp is not the problem. What else is playing?”

He bit his lip before answering. “Just the new Marvel movie,” he said carefully.

“Great, can we see that?”

He made no effort to contain the look of shock on his face. “Did you really just say you want to see a Marvel movie with me?”

I looked around the room. “Uh, yeah, why? Is that okay?”

His face slowly moved from a look of shock to a huge grin. “Natalie, I know I may look like a stud, but at my core, I’m an IT nerd, and I think you may have just found the key to my heart.” He placed his hands over his chest.

I shook my head at him, his grin contagious. “Well, that’s settled then. Superheroes it is. Maybe I’ll let you buy me some
chocolat
at the concession stand.”

“You got it. Why don’t you swing by my place at seven? It’s just down the block from the movie theater. Does that sound okay?” he said, standing up.

“Sounds perfect,” I said, offering my most sincere smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’ll text you the address,” he offered.

“Wonderful.”

“Looking forward to it. See you tomorrow, dream girl,” he said with a wink as he left.

Dream girl?

Oh boy.

Sexy sex.

~

The sun had just dipped past the horizon, and the fog was in full-force as I shivered and hurried down the street towards Brad’s place. Something about the chill of San Francisco fog—it was able to cut straight to my bone. I pulled my scarf up around my neck and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket as I turned the corner onto Brad’s street. As I approached his address, I thought:
This can’t be right.
This wasn’t an apartment or a condo. No, I was in front of a full-sized house…and a large one at that. It was a Queen Anne Victorian, an opulent yet historical style that typified the best of San Francisco architecture. I looked down, double-checking the address—yep, this was it; I was going to have to ask him about that. I let myself in through the iron gate, walked up the stairs, and rang the bell.

I peered through the stained glass windows that flanked the large mahogany door, but it was no use, I couldn’t tell if anyone was home. I was about to turn away to call him when the door flung open.

A twenty-something platinum blond was standing just inside the threshold. She was dressed all in black and her eyes were rimmed with heavy eyeliner. She seemed to be slightly annoyed by my presence but after surveying me from head to toe, shouted, “Brad!”

Debbie Harry turned and left, leaving me standing in the threshold.

“Nat, hey!” Brad came running up and leaned in, giving me a peck on the cheek. I flushed at the unexpected show of affection. “You look beautiful. I like your hair like that. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” I said, as I followed him down the hall. I usually wore my hair down, but tonight I had thrown it up. “Nice house, IT must pay a heck of a lot more than the marketing department does.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, right, I wish— I just rent part of it. I hope you got a good parking spot.”

I started to shed my coat as we emerged into an open kitchen area. “Actually, I walked. Man, I thought we had cold weather back East, but you guys here are giving me a run for my money.”

“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco,” a third voice said. It belonged to someone who was standing at the stove, his back to us.

I froze.

I knew that voice.

And I knew that back.

What the hell was Ryan Andrews doing here?

Natalie

Everything fell away. Well, everything that is, except Ryan Andrews. Yes. Ryan Andrews was still right in front of me, dominating my field of vision. Everything else was a blur.

“Natalie?” a voice came crashing through the haze.

I closed my eyes and turned toward the sound.

“Huh? Sorry?”

“I was just saying this is my roommate, Ryan.”

“Hey,” he said, offering his hand after wiping it on his apron.

That’s right, I said apron. The man was wearing a pink apron. And not just wearing it, he was
wearing
it. Somehow my stupid virgin brain decided to get turned on by this.

I was instantly soaking wet.

“Hey,” I said, barely aware that I was taking his hand. When I did, I felt a rush of heat pulse through me. I stood there for a moment, silently gathering myself. Okay, so, we’re pretending not to know each other again. Thank God. I can play that. As fog in my brain started to clear, I realized Smokey Robinson was playing on the stereo.

I turned to Brad. “I didn’t know you were a Motown fan.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m not. Martha Stewart over there has been playing that stuff all week,” he said nodding to Ryan, and I once again got lost in the image of Ryan Andrews in a pink apron. He wore jeans and a short sleeve white t-shirt, which carefully traced his shoulders and left his inked arms exposed.

“I’m just going to grab my things and then we can go,” a voice cut in again.

The voice, once again, was Brad. Brad was talking to me. Brad and I were on a date. I needed to pay attention to him, respond to him.

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Go ahead,” I managed to say, squeaking out a semblance of an answer. I placed my hand on a nearby countertop to steady myself. Debbie Harry had settled onto the sofa in the living room and was immersed in her laptop.

Ryan didn’t move as he watched Brad leave down the hall but once he’d safely rounded the corner, he lunged at me.

Without saying a word, he grabbed one of my wrists, dragged me into a large powder room off the kitchen, and closed the door.

I looked around, taking stock of our location. “Seriously?” I laughed. “A bathroom? Again?” I hoped he’d get the irony and laugh too. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

He did not laugh.

He was not amused.

“Natalie,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “What are you doing here?”

He was still holding onto my wrist, which I brought up to eye-level. “I can tell you, but will you please let go of me first?”

He looked down and immediately released his grip, only to move both his hands alongside of me, pinning me against the wall.

“Natalie, I don’t— it’s just—” he took a deep breath and looked long and hard at me. “Natalie.
No.
”

“What do you mean no?!” I hissed. “I’m allowed to date. I checked the contract, remember? As long as I don’t…you know.” I bounced my head back and forth so he caught my meaning. “Besides, who’s Blondie McRockerston? I know she’s not
Brad’s
date.”

“Yeah, she’s
definitely
not Brad’s date. Jesus, Ainsley’s my sister, Natalie,” he spat. “Look, Natalie… Brad’s a player. He’s got a different girl here every other day.” He swallowed and looked down. He paused a beat, and once he finally looked back at me, it was like a fire had erupted inside, and his eyes were dark and full of heat. “You deserve better than that.”

Whoa.

We were close, really close, and probably in the least sexy room in their entire house. But I didn’t care. Being this close to Ryan, all my feelings for him came crashing back. Maybe it
was
a conditioned response, maybe I’d fucked up and fallen for my therapist despite all the warnings, but I didn’t care. Our eyes locked, caught in a standoff, and I could feel the that magnetic pull, that pheromone laced animalistic reaction once again. And then we were interrupted.

“Nat? Ryan? Where are you guys?” a voice called out.

It was Brad. He was looking for us.
Shit.

Neither Ryan nor I dared to move. Brad called again. Ryan was the first to pull back. “Cancel the date.” He quietly commanded as he opened the door.

“I can’t just cancel, I’m already here!” I hissed.

“Cancel the fucking date, Natalie. Make up an excuse. Say you aren’t feeling well.”

“Why?”

He paused, making it seem like something was on the tip of his tongue, and as we rounded the corner to the kitchen we almost collided with Brad.

“There you guys are. Where’d you go? Not trying to steal my date, are you Andrews?” He pulled me into position by his side.

And then I saw it again. The ever so subtle twitch of Ryan’s jaw. Like he was burying something with all his might. It was just like when I’d run into him on the sidewalk with Josh. He crossed his arms and his face was calm, stoic even.

I knew what I had to do, but my brain felt like it had been dipped in molasses. “Sorry, Brad. He was, uh, just trying to find me some Pepto-Bismol.” I blushed, probably about the
shade
of Pepto-Bismol as I did everything I could to avoid locking eyes with Ryan.

Ryan the Sex God.

Sex.

“Oh, what’s the matter Nat, not feeling well?” He pulled me in front of him and looked down with concern.

Uh, yeah, my panties are wet and I need an infusion of Ryan Andrews cock, stat.

“It’s just my stomach,” I lied. “Never trust a food truck for a decent tuna sandwich, you know? I should probably go home.”

“Are you sure? Do you want some soda or anything? Maybe it will pass?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I know my body. I just need to go home and rest. Sorry, I should have called instead of trying to come over.”

“Nonsense. Let me take you home—”

I waved my hands and closed my eyes, fawning wooziness. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get a cab.”

“
I’ll
get you the cab. Here, come with me.” He offered his arm as Ryan looked on. Brad was chivalrous. You had to give him that.

As we walked to the door, I could feel Ryan’s eyes searing into me from behind.

“Feel better, Natalie,” he said as he closed the door behind us. In reality, it was probably a murmur. But to me, it felt like a battle cry.

~

So pathetic. I was so
fucking
pathetic.

Why, you ask? Oh, well, let me tell you why!

Because instead of calling Ryan or emailing him like a grown-up, I went back to the library on Sunday. You know, hoping that through some twist of fate, I might run into him again. Because he has nothing better to do than to hang out amongst the stacks. I did the mental math. If he had checked out any books on the day we met, they wouldn’t even be due yet.

Not. Even. Due. Yet.

So the chances of him being there were slim to none, but I went anyway and stalked the historical fiction section even though I
hate
historical fiction. I spent three hours there, eventually positioning myself and my laptop at the most visible table. I know it was the most visible table because I checked the angles. That’s right, I walked around the library and spent time figuring this out.

Told you I was pathetic.

I told myself I was there to work on my presentation, but I was only able to give it half my attention. Every few minutes some guy with a black jacket or dark hair would walk by and catch my periphery, causing me to look up. Eventually it was five o’clock, and I heard a woman’s voice behind me start to tell us stragglers that the library was closing. I unplugged my laptop and started to pack it into my bag when the same woman approached me.

“Excuse me, the library is clos—oh, hey, do I know you?”

It was Blondie McRockerston.

A.K.A. Ainsley. A.K.A. Ryan’s
sister
.

Jack-fucking-pot. I finished dropping my laptop into my bag and offered my hand. “Yeah, I’m Natalie. We met the other night at Brad’s.”

Yes— good job, Reese, yes,
Brad’s
house. Not Ryan’s. Because,
you
don’t know Ryan. At least, she doesn’t think you do.

“Oh, right…” I could see her connecting the dots in her mind. “I’m Ainsley.”

“Ainsley,” I repeated.

“Yup. Ain like Pain.”

I chuckled.
O-kay rocker girl.

“I uh, I felt so bad I had to leave early,” I said, suddenly desperate to keep this conversation going. She was a link to Ryan. Ryan’s personal life. My mind was flying, trying to think of how to use this to my advantage.

What exactly I wanted to accomplish was still unclear, even to me, but still…

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Are you feeling better?”

Good, she must have overheard the tuna sandwich story. “Um, yeah. Much better. Hundred percent.” I rubbed my forehead. “Listen, this is kind of random, but the library is closing right? Do you want to run across the street and grab a coffee? I was thinking I might want to make things up to Brad, and maybe I could bounce some ideas off you?”

She trained her dark rimmed blue eyes on me, and then glanced at the clock on the wall. Great, I’d overstepped my boundaries and now she was going to go home and tell Ryan all about the crazy psycho stalker chick Brad was dating. So I was super surprised when she replied:

“Yeah, why not. I have to clock out first, should I meet you over there?”

I chose a table in the back of the mostly empty café after ordering myself a decaf cappuccino. Just as I was sitting down, Ainsley came through the door looking tentative and somewhat sullen. I gave her a little wave, and met her at the register.

“What would you like? It’s my treat.”

Her lips moved into a flat smile, her blue eyes unwavering. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you. Just an espresso would be fine. I can’t stay too long.”

“No prob.” I gave the barista a little nod, and he started making her drink. “You headed back home after this?”

“Nah, I have to go grocery shopping. My brother came over to my apartment the other day and ate all my food.”

Apartment?

“Oh, wait, do you not live with them?” I cleared my throat as I paid for the espresso. “I mean, with Brad and Ryan?”

This made her laugh as we took our seats. “Ha, no. There is no way I could live with those guys full-time. I was only over last night because Ryan promised to feed me, to make up for—”

“Eating all your food?”

She smiled. “Exactly.” She reached out to grip the small porcelain cup, her thumbs threading themselves through two holes along the edge of her well-worn sweater.

“That was nice of him, I guess?” I said, hoping my interest in her brother wasn’t too obvious.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy. Like a genuinely excellent human being. Too bad he’s got the metabolism of a racehorse.”

“Guys always do, right?”

“It’s so unfair,” she agreed. “I had a boyfriend in high school who ate three cheeseburgers at lunch
every day
, and he was still as thin as a rail. I want to come back as a guy in my next life.”

“Seriously. Me too. Ugh, now you have me wanting a cheeseburger.”

“I know, me too! Sorry!”

I smiled. “No worries.”

“So,” she paused, looking around the café. “You want the scoop?”

Scoop? Oh, right. The scoop on Brad.
Must act concerned about Brad.

“Yeah, so, I don’t know him that well, but I feel bad cutting out on him last night. What do you think I should do?”

She took a sip of her espresso, contemplating her answer.

“Honestly?”

I sat up straight and nodded. “Please.”

“I don’t think you should do anything. That man is used to women fawning over him. A little hard-to-get action is exactly what he needs, you know, to keep his interest.”

“Hmm,” I paused, thinking over her suggestion. “You sure?”

“Yeah, trust me on this. I’ve known him since I was a kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He and my brother were college roommates.”

“Ah, I see. Where was that?”

Something changed in her face as she recalled, “Berkeley.”

“Oh, that’s close by.”

“Yeah. Ry was at Brown, but transferred back for his sophomore year, thank God.”

Her sullen countenance had returned, and I instantly felt bad for pressing. Then suddenly she shook her head and sat up. “Sorry. You wanted to talk about Brad, and here I am, going off about myself.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Believe it or not, I’m new in town, and it’s just nice to talk to someone.”

She offered another weak smile, but I could tell it was time to go.

“Well, I should let you go grocery shopping. Thanks again for the advice on Brad.”