He pulls out of me, turns my twitching, trembling body around, and bends me over the table. In a flash, he’s inside me again, pumping into me while kissing the back of my neck.
My body’s on fire. My heart’s racing. For the first time since I peed on that goddamned stick, I feel like me again.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispers hoarsely in my ear.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, gasping for air.
“Don’t cut me off again.”
“I won’t,” I grit out, just as another orgasm rips through me. “I’m all yours, Josh. Oh my God. I’m all yours.Fuck.”
He comes behind me, clutching me fiercely as he does, his fingers digging deeply into my flesh, and then we both collapse onto the table into a mangled, crumpled heap, mutually gasping for air.
When we’ve quieted down, he slides into his chair, his chest still heaving, and pulls me into his lap.
My chest is pressed against his.
My arms are wrapped around his neck.
I rest my cheek on his shoulder, breathing deeply, fighting to quell my sudden urge to bawl and/or barf all over him.
Finally, when I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna cry or hurl, I lift my cheek and look into his sparkling blue eyes. “Was that one of our boring ‘real life’ activities, Josh?” I ask.
Josh laughs and makes a face like I’m a total smart-ass.
“So what other boring ‘real life’ activities are on tap for the weekend, babe?” I ask.
Josh strokes my hair for a moment. “Well, tomorrow we’re going hiking in Runyon Canyon and then I thought maybe we’d do alittle grocery shopping and stop at the dry cleaners on the way home.” He smirks. “And then I thought maybe we’d play some late-night backgammon while guzzling club soda—and then maybe binge watchThe Walking Dead.You know, just normal, real-life stuff boring people in normal relationships do. No saving the world, no cocktails, no poker chips.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a wicked gleam in his eye.
Clearly, he’s daring me to say, “Never mind what I said in front of the karaoke bar—gimme more of the Playboy Razzle-Dazzle, baby!” But, obviously, I can’t say any such thing without Josh hopping up to make me a stiff drink. “Hmm,” I say. “That all sounds super fun. I’m totally on board. I especially like this no-booze idea—good thinking. Maybe Boring Cameron Schulz was onto something.”
Josh scowls.
“Butmaybewe don’t have to besodisciplined about experiencing real life,” I continue. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if we mixed a tiny bit offantasyin with our real-life activities?”
Josh raises an eyebrow. “Well, gosh, PG, I wouldn’t want you to compromise your core values or anything.”
I narrow my eyes and flare my nostrils at him.
He smirks.
“What about this?” I say. “What if we skip any and all mind-altering substances for, oh, I dunno, let’s say a month, just for kicks—butwe also continue fulfilling items on our fantasy-list? Kind of a nice middle-ground-approach, don’t you think?”
Josh considers. “Kind of arbitrary cherry-picking of what we can and can’t do, I’d say. If we’re gonna do fantasies, why not have a cocktail while we do ’em? I’ve got a great recipe for a basil and lime margarita—”
“No,” I blurt.
Josh looks at me quizzically.
Damn. How the heck am I going to convince Josh it’s completely normal I don’t want to drink? It’s so unlike me as to be worrisome, I’m sure. “Absolutely no booze,” I say. “As a fun challenge—to prove we don’t need it to have a great time. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Well, I think it would be good for us.”
Josh makes a face. “Why, exactly? I’m not sure I understand your thinking on this.”
I scoff like it’s totally self-explanatory, even though I’m shitting a brick. “So we know we can generate fun and excitement all by our little selves, Joshy Woshy. So we know we’re addicted toeach other, organically, with or without having beer goggles on.”
