Molly: Great—enjoy yourselves!
Stella: Enjoy yourself with that hunk of man you brought over last night! (flame emojis)
Molly: Sadly, he had to fly out on business this morning. But I’m heading to Elaine’s in a bit to catch up with her.
Stella:Give her my love.
Molly:Will do! XOXO
I make it through the weekly staff meeting, smiling and nodding, and pretending to take notes. I tossed and turned last night after Ev left. Good sex always leaves me revved up, and there was no one to spoon with, so I had trouble calming down and getting to sleep.
Sex with Ev is like no other sex I’ve ever had, and trust me when I say, I’m not new to the party. I know what I like, and I have no trouble asking for it. But with Ev, I don’t even have to ask. It’s like he just knows. He picks up on signals and responses and sounds and takes it from there. He’s so in tune with me on a sexual level. On every level, really.
So, unpopular opinion: oral sex is overrated. There. I said it. You know why? Because it is. Usually. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t dislike it. It’s just that, well, it never really lives up to the hype, I guess. It’s kind of like when a beloved book is turned into a movie with an A-list cast. There’s so much buzz about it. There’s all this potential, but it’s still never as good as the book. That’s not to say it’s bad, necessarily, just never as good.
Take New Year’s Eve in Times Square. It’s the epitome of NYE, right? My dad took me once. I was just 21, and we were there with a big group of people, and it should have been awesome, right? And it was great. But there was also trash everywhere. And it was so loud. And beyond crowded. It was fun; I’m glad I went, but I was even happier watching the ball drop from the comfort of my couch the next year.
That’s kind of how I feel about oral sex. It’s fine. It’s not bad. I’ve just never been sure what all the fuss is about.
Well, now I know.
Ev Madigan is a fucking genius with his tongue. He’s not a dog sloppily lapping at an ice cream cone. He’s not looking for the Goddamn center of a Tootsie-Pop.
A buzz from my phone interrupts my musings, and I see a text from Stella, telling me they’ve arrived, safe and sound, and are ready to hit the slot machines. I have to laugh. It’s like she’s a teenager who’s checking in with her mom. But I’m more an enabler than a mother figure, and maybe that’s why we get along so well.
My workday is done, so I pack up my things and head over to Elaine’s. I’ve missed our weekly lunches. I wish I could bring her nachos from The Tavern, but she’s still surviving on bland foods. Last I heard, she was getting fluids once a week, so it sounds like I’ll have to wait awhile for that lunch date. No matter, though. What I’ve got planned might just be better than nachos, if such a thing is possible.
I pull into her driveway and get my bags out.
“Hey, Molls!” Simon calls. “Need a hand?”
I hand over a stuffed bag and a basin full of towels.
“Um, is this baby stuff?”
“Nope. Big girls only.” I smile cryptically.
Simon learned quickly not to question my methods, so he dutifully carries the load inside. I follow with the last of the goodies and pull him in for a quick hug once I reach the foyer.
“We’re all set for a couple of hours. Go grab a beer, or an actual meal, or whatever you like. I’ve got your girl, I promise.”
He hesitates, and I steamroll over him, as is usually the case. “Dude. Leave. Unless you want your toenails painted and your pores minimized, you’ve got five minutes to kiss your baby mama, grab your stuff, and go.”
“Molly, you’re awesome.”
“I am. And it’s Tuesday.”
He smiles broadly and pats his pocket for his phone, but I stop him. “No need to text Nick. I already did. He’s waiting for you at Trick’s. Enjoy Trivia Night.”
As Simon and Elaine say their goodbyes, I unpack all of the goodies I brought. Christian, my hairstylist, hooked me up with all kinds of good stuff.
“Ok, lovebirds, time’s up! He’s going to play trivia, not to fight a war.” I love giving these two a hard time.
Simon leaves, and I go into the kitchen to help myself to a glass of water. “You need a refill, hon?”
“Nope, I’m good,” she calls.
I get myself situated on the couch next to her. “It is so good to see you! Work is not the same without my bestie.”
