Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [1]
Maybe she should drop that one from her repertoire, though. Saying it only made her think about penises.
“I am responsible for my own pleasure. I am responsible for my own pleasure. I am responsible for my own pleasure.” Which, of course, meant masturbation. And she had nothing against that—it could get a girl through many a long and lonely night. But to tell herself it would be enough, forever—well, that was challenging. She’d have to work on feeling that one more as she said it.
Still determined, however, she started the first repetition. “I don’t need a man. I don’t—”
“Spoken just like someone who needs a man.”
Flinching, she looked up to find her friend and coworker, Kelly Mills—blond, fairly glamorous, and someone with plenty of men in her life. Kelly did PR for Blue Night Records, the indie music label that employed them both, and she also held a degree in psychology, which she claimed she needed in her line of work.
“I don’t,” Brenna reassured her about needing a man. Despite having little in common, the two had been good friends since Brenna had moved to L.A. three years ago, so if someone had to intrude on her affirmations, she was glad it was Kelly.
Kelly gave her head a scolding tilt. “People who don’t usually don’t need to say it.”
“Huh?”
Kelly crossed her arms beneath ample breasts. “Take my next-door neighbor, Ms. Freeland, for instance. She’s seventy-five and never been married. She’s an artist, she traveled the world in her youth, she loves her Scottish terrier, Fiona, and she’s never needed a man. She’s never told me that, but it shows in everything she does. It’s simply a part of her. She doesn’t feel the need to go around explaining why she’s not married or that she doesn’t need a man—because she’s so truly comfortable not having one.
“On the other hand, there’s Ms. Nelson, three doors down.” Kelly dropped her chin derisively and shifted her weight from one pointy red pump to the other. “She’s forty-five and clearly lonely. She tells me all the time how she doesn’t need a man to fulfill her, but what ruins it is how darned bitter and angry she sounds every time she says it. She might not want to need a man. But she obviously needs one.”
“Your point again?” Brenna asked, eyebrows raised.
“Saying you don’t need a man over and over indicates that, like it or not, you do. And there’s no crime in that, by the way. Most women are wired to desire love and commitment.”
Brenna only rolled her eyes. “Love and commitment—bleh.” She didn’t have to say more since Kelly knew all the nasty details about her cheating husband and recent divorce. “The last thing I’m interested in is commitment. And that’s the truth.”
Kelly nodded. “I believe you. You have trust issues. But I’ll tell you what you do need.”
“What’s that?”
“To paraphrase the immortal words of John Mellencamp, you need a lover—who won’t drive you crazy.”
A lover? Brenna had had relationships, and guys she’d dated, and of course, a husband, but she’d never been the confident, carefree sort of woman who could have someone she thought of as a lover. So she pointed to her book. “According to this, a good vibrator will provide the same fulfillment.”
Kelly raised her eyebrows matter-of-factly. “Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Brenna pursed her lips. “Besides the fact that I’m too shy to go into one of those stores? Well, because somehow an evening with a vibrator just sounds a little…empty, as in boring. I know some women talk a good game about it, but—”
Kelly held up her hands in a stop motion. “Say no more. And listen to me. You need a lover. How long has it been since you’ve had one, by the way?”
“Does Wayne count?” Her smarmy ex.
Kelly grimaced. “Don’t tell me he’s the last? I mean, you’ve been divorced for, what, six months now?”
Brenna sighed. “And separated for a year before that.”
Kelly looked as if Brenna had just announced the death of a loved one. “Oh dear God, you poor girl. Stand up.”
Brenna blinked her surprise at the command, but the imposing look in Kelly’s eyes pushed