What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [2]
“Pleasure,” Shannon finished for her. “For your information, there can be a lot of pleasure involved regardless of like, respect, and comfort. And sometimes you just have to think . . . well, like a guy. Sometimes you have to be in it for the pure physical enjoyment. And there’s nothing wrong with that, by the way. This is the twenty-first century—women are allowed to seek their own pleasure. Sometimes, my dear Jenna,” she said as if she were very wise, or Jenna were very thick, “a good orgasm has to be enough to satisfy you.”
Jenna paused, turning the words over in her head. She was loath to admit it, but she almost saw what they were saying. She wasn’t particularly aching for an orgasm—but the point was, if she couldn’t find a guy she really liked, maybe it was better to at least take some pleasure from one she could . . . crave. One of those really hot, sexy guys who probably did hang out at meat market bars looking to get lucky. She could fix herself up—wear something short and tight from Shannon’s closet, put on more makeup than usual—then go out and pick up a guy. Before she got old, like they were saying. In case Mr. Right never came along. So that she would at least have a few wild nights, a few hot romps to look back on in her later years.
Except . . . wait a minute. What was she thinking? She couldn’t do what they were suggesting—ever!
“The problem is,” she began in rebuttal, “I don’t think a good orgasm would be enough to satisfy me. In fact, if that’s all I got out of it, I’m pretty sure I’d be depressed afterward, and feel empty inside. Blegh,” she concluded, making a face.
Kevin just shook his handsome head, clearly sad for her. “We just worry about you, Jenna.”
“Well, don’t. I have a perfectly full life without casual sex every weekend. I have my work and my family, both of which I love. I have my friends, whom I also love—most of the time,” she added, raising a reproachful eyebrow. “I have a great condo, my book club every other Thursday, my weekend getaways with Shannon each summer—face it, I have a great life. If I sometimes have a nice guy and some sex added to the mix, all the better. And if I don’t, I’m still perfectly satisfied.”
Three weeks later, Jenna burst through the front door of Kevin and Shannon’s house without knocking. “I’m going to kill you! I’m going to kill you both! With my bare hands!”
Kev looked up from where he sat on the floor in front of the TV fiddling with the remote—just as Shannon entered the room, jostling the bowl of popcorn she held to send a few fluffy kernels scattering to the carpet. “Happy movie night to you, too,” she said.
“Movie schmovie,” Jenna snapped. “You’re both dead.”
“What did we do?” Kevin gaped at her, the remote resting forgotten in his hand.
“I got a phone call a little while ago,” Jenna informed them, so livid she could barely speak, “from a place called the Hotel Erotique! They tell me I’ve won the grand prize in their annual ‘singles sweepstakes,’ a two-week stay at a resort where sex is the main amenity! Well, you can imagine my shock,” she said, trying to calm down, but segueing into complete sarcasm, “since I’ve never heard of the place and certainly never entered their sweepstakes. And when I acted confused, they then said it had been an e-mail entry—from an address that happens to be yours!” She pointed a threatening finger at Kevin, who now dropped the remote altogether.
Kev and Shannon exchanged glances and Kevin said, “Uh-oh.”
This somehow managed to make Jenna even more angry. “What the hell were you thinking? What on earth possessed you? Are you out of your freaking mind?”
“I was just, uh, playing around on the Internet one night,” he began uncertainly.
“You mean looking at porn,” Jenna corrected.
“Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “And I came across this website for this place that, well, sort of helps people live out their sexual fantasies, and . . .”
“And?” repeated Jenna, querying him. Because surely