Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

"Who's given a blowjob?" Blanche asks when we all sit at a round table with her in a tall, padded chair like a smutty King Arthur.

Nick leans back, the motion stretching his tight cotton shirt across his chest. It's intentional and may have stirred something in me if there wasn't an old stain perfectly placed over his nipple that makes it look like he has a giant areola and completely ruins the effect.

"Don't look at me, Blanche," he tells her with a smirk.

She raises her left eyebrow, creating a rather impressive arch. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

He chuckles. "Touché."

"Anyone else?"

Piper raises her hand. "I'm not sure if it counts, but I've tried once. It lasted like thirty seconds max, and I ended up with cum in my eye. That shit stings."

Brad busts out in a loud guffaw, Nick immediately joining. I try to hold myself together, but when Jolene starts giggling, I'm a goner. Blanche's mouth twitches .

"Well, Ms. Lawrence, it sounds like you should've worn protective eye gear," Blanche says nonchalantly.

Piper snorts. "I don't exactly rock the goggle look."

The image of her giving head while wearing goggles has me doubling over. By the time Blanche reins us in, I'm crying-laughing.

"You may be thinking that I asked you about blowjobs to give you some pointers. While it's true that I have some good tips… for the tip," wink, wink , "I'm not here to give tutorials. The purpose of the question was to get you comfortable talking about sex. You're about to enter a world where everything, and I mean everything, is laid bare. I expect you to balk initially. That's natural. But you will learn to embrace and explore your sexuality. That's the whole point of the island. Honesty and openness are the first step."

The next hour is like a weird version of a truth circle. Each of us takes turns sharing our experiences. I tell the group about Tommy Hooper, but there isn't much beyond him, and it becomes clear that I'm the least experienced of the bunch. Excommunicated Brad has more experience than I do. I still need to find out why he left the church. So many possibilities.

We finish off the session by signing some paperwork. In a week, we return for a final review of everything, including a doctor's report. As the group heads out to go our separate ways, Piper and Jolene invite me to grab an early lunch. I want to go, but Blanche was right when she said the gynecologists on her list would fit me in this week. I have an appointment in an hour.

It's all happening so fast. My drunk ass signed the contract Sunday night. It's only Thursday, and I'm seeing a gyno so I can fly off to an island a week from tomorrow. I feel like Dark Helmet traveling at Ludicrous Speed. Only instead of smashing into a control panel, I'm going headlong into a fantasy realm of fuckery.

Put gynecologists on my list of things I'd rather be unconscious for. Spread open in stirrups while latex-covered fingers slathered in lube probing my vag while I stare at the ceiling is right up there with cleaning up smears of shit at Fuel 'n' Fare. At least she didn't use the metal probe because, apparently, I may still have a hymen. Lucky me.

At least I got the all-clear. I mean, that's good, right? Pages and Pastries. Pages and Pastries. It's my mantra.

I stop at a coffee shop a block from my apartment and grab a mocha and two cake pops. They're like Doritos. You can't eat just one. Sipping and noshing my way home, I consider what I'm going to tell my family. They live in Florida and hate the Pacific Northwest, so a surprise visit is not an issue. But I do need to tell them something. What, I have no idea. It's certainly not going to be that their only child is spending a year at a hedonistic island where anyone who pays can watch her sexcapades. Ugh.

Putting that phone call off until the last minute sounds like the best idea. I need to focus on the basics first, such as packing. How does one pack for a year on an island where everyone is practically a nudist? I run through a mental list of clothing and realize I have a rather pathetic selection of undies. A practical girl by nature, I've never gone for the butt floss look. I prefer high waist, high-cut panties so my ass doesn't fall out. Well, I'm sure as shit not going lingerie shopping! I'll probably be tits and buns out most of the time, anyway. Joy.

My mocha is half gone, and both cake pops are eaten when I open my front door. Looking down, I see a manila envelope on the floor. It must have been shoved under the door. Picking it up, I turn it over and see my name in a loopy scrawl on the outside. Setting my coffee down, I open it and find a handwritten note from Blanche and a plane ticket.

I'll enjoy watching you bloom, my dear! See you next week.

Yep. Ludicrous Speed.