6. October 20- Savannah

"Let me understand," Melissa says, chewing her sandwich and trying not to smile. It's not working. Her lips curve up at the corner, and she's dangerously close to releasing tears of laughter. "You have a gorgeous man living in your apartment, and you're ignoring him."

"It was so awkward. I heard him. He was pleasuring himself in my shower and saying my name."

"How is this a bad thing? In fact, why aren't you in the shower with him and pleasuring him? Sack up and get in there."

We're at her golf club and enjoying lunch on the terrace. It's a beautiful, warm fall day, and the trees are gorgeous shades of red, yellow, and orange. Random leaves fly off the trees every now and then, making us cover our drinks and sandwiches. Other than the wind, the day is perfect.

I put a crinkle-cut fry in my mouth and chew. Swallowing, I think about what Melissa wants me to do, and my face burns. "The filth he was saying. You should have heard the things he was muttering."

Melissa leans forward and puts her elbows on the table, propping her chin in her hands. "Do tell," she coos. "As an engaged woman, I have to live vicariously through you."

I cover my face with my hands. "I can't repeat it."

"That good, huh?" She winks and picks up her soup spoon. "Moving away from the filthy jerk-off session, do you want to tell me why you're ignoring him?"

I sigh. "Because I want him so bad that I can't stand to be in my own skin." There, I said it.

Listening to him in the shower did things to me I'll never admit to anyone else. My panties have never been so soaked, and I had to run to my room to change them. Hearing him talk to himself, say my name, and ask me to lick him clean was disconcerting. I've never had a man talk to me or even about me that way. Not that I know of, anyway. Things like that don't happen in my life, and I'm unsure how to face him.

"So, you're ignoring him because you know you're in his spank bank? Honey, that's a good thing. He likes you."

I know he likes me. I just wish he'd make a move first. "He hasn't tried with me, either."

"Have you given him a chance to try?" she asks, glaring. "Let me guess. You've been coming home from work, grabbing a piece of fruit and a peanut butter sandwich, and locking yourself in your room with a book until bedtime. You sneak to the bathroom to brush your teeth and shower, blushing the whole shower because you think of him naked and moaning your name in that very spot, and you get up in the morning and out the door for work as fast as you can."

"That's the sum of it. Yes."

"Heather has a point."

"Leave my mom out of this."

"You need to get laid by this guy, and you need to relax and enjoy it."

"I think he sleeps with other women."

Her spoon falls into her bowl, and she scowls. "What do you mean?"

"I heard him leave the other night about nine. He didn't come back until the early morning. I think he went out and picked up a woman."

"You're not putting out and won't talk to him. Can you blame him? Did he bring her to your place?"

"Well, no. But he moved in and made me sign that douchey contract. Yes, I can blame him." I lean forward until my hair flops into my face.

"So, you're jealous of women touching him when you ignore him, treat him like a boarder, and don't make an effort to even talk to him? Did he get a job?"

"Yep. I didn't ask much about it. He texted me that he got one with a smiley face."

"How did you respond?"

"A thumbs up emoji." I don't mention that I researched the thumbs up emoji before I sent it. I was worried teenagers have changed the emoji meaning in the last few years. I didn't need him thinking I was telling him I'm interested in massaging his prostate or something equally as horrifying.

"I can see your dilemma," she chuckles. "You have a gorgeous man living in your home that has a job he goes to every day and even replaces the toilet paper roll properly. Said man moans your name when he comes. Terrible, Savannah. Dreadful. I fear that your life has devolved into a bowl of shit, and…"

"Stop!" I say, holding up my hand. "You made your point. I'm an absolute idiot." I look up and take another bite of food, the first I've enjoyed in a few days. "What do I do? I'm so awkward at this. I want him, but I'm scared of wanting him."

"I don't understand it," she says, shaking her head. She signals for another cocktail from the bar, and the waiter nods from across the room. Melissa always gets whatever she wants at daddy's golf club. "You should be on him and riding him like a cowgirl."

"Do you mean backward?"

She laughs, snorting a piece of fry out her nose. She covers her face with her napkin. "Backward. Forward. Sideways. However you have to do it, honey. Just get on some dick. How sexy are we talking?"

I moan a little, and Melissa raises her eyebrows. "Listen, Savannah, you need to talk to him. That's where you start first."

A ping sounds from my purse, and I reach for it, already knowing it's my mother with her daily check-in. She always texts around this time. I don't know why. She's not elderly and in danger of dying in her sleep. Part of me thinks she's lonely…or nosy.

I open up the screen and groan.

"Lots of groaning and moaning coming from that side of the table today. Did he send a dick pic?" Melissa asks. "If so, show me."

"It's worse. My mom wants to have dinner tomorrow and introduce me to her cuffing partner."

"The fact that your mother is being laid by her cuffing partner and you're not, tells you all you need to know about just how sad your life has become."

"Don't I know it. Now I have to sit and be a third wheel at Applebee's while my mom handfeeds a chicken wrap to some geriatric millennial she picked up."

"Why don't you take Wilder?"

I nearly choke on my sandwich. "He doesn't want to go to dinner with my mother."

"Probably not, but I'm willing to bet he wants to go with you. Besides, it'll show Heather that you're serious cuffing season partners, and it'll hold up your end of the bargain. You're guaranteed the tuition money as long as you take Wilder around Heather a few times. It's an essential part of the show. Does Heather know you signed a contract with him?"

I sigh. I told my mother about the contract over the phone. She didn't seem fluffed by it or think it's weird, at least not that she let on. Typical Mom. "She knows. She laughed and kept talking about her new guy. You know her. She's more focused on her own world."

"Give me one reason you shouldn't take Wilder. Heather knows about the contract. It's not like she can judge you if he mentions it."

"He'll sit next to me in the booth." I have no idea where that fear comes from. This is a guy I have sexual feelings for, and I'm worried about our thighs touching.

"Oh, no! Not sitting next to you in a booth." Melissa rolls her eyes and dramatically clutches her chest. "What if he yawns and puts his arms around you?"

"You've made your point that I don't exactly slay when it comes to handling men."

"Honey, you have to talk to the guy you have in your apartment so you can learn how to talk to other men. Think of it as a learning opportunity." She points her fork at me, and her face twists into a serious look. "Put the big girl panties on and ask your fake boyfriend out on a date."