Layla finally turns off her cell and joins us. “What are you guys talking about?”
“My shmekel,” Jamie says, looking desolate.
“Isn’t that the Yiddish word for a small shmuck?” Layla says.
Jamie obviously needs my help winning over the opposite sex. Maybe I should write a book; I’ve certainly had a lot of success recently. First tactic: do not bring up one’s small penis in front of one’s object of affection (unless, of course, you’re actually bringing it up, ha-ha).
Layla smiles. “Small isn’t always bad. It’s all about the shape. Sometimes big is too big.”
Then why are all her vibrators twice the size of a normal man? The guys look surprised. They obviously haven’t seen what’s inside her pleasure drawer, or listened to one of her masturbation lectures.
Jamie leans forward, eagerly. “You prefer small?”
Could he be more obvious?
Layla scratches the side of her face in thought. “I find when it’s smaller, you can have sex more often, and you don’t get sore.”
Nick’s eyes are popping out of his head. “How often do you like to have sex?”
She appears thoughtful. “When I’m in a relationship, you mean?”
“Or not,” Jamie adds.
“Once or twice a day, I suppose.”
I spit the beer I was drinking back into the bottle. “Oh, please.” Give me a break. She’s batting her big blue eyes at her adoring fans. “You do not have sex twice a day.”
“I don’t?”
“Come on!” What, she needs everyone’s attention? It’s not enough that she has the perfect boyfriend, but she has to steal Jamie and now Russ?
“It destresses me. I can’t sleep if I don’t orgasm.”
Great. The masturbation discussion. Again. Why do we always have to talk about masturbation?
“Do you have an orgasm every night?” Russ asks. He can’t take his eyes off her. My back tenses. Is he going to fall for her now? Start sleeping with her? What if I become Sharon and no one tells me he’s screwing someone else? If he did it to her, why not do it to me?
“Of course,” Layla says. “Don’t you?”
“I do,” Nick says.
“I think you’re the first woman to ever admit to masturbating,” Russ says.
Layla looks shocked. “What are you talking about? My friends at home and I talk about it all the time.”
“You do?” Nick asks. “Now there’s a conversation I’d like to overhear. Can we call them?”
“I’m not embarrassed about my body. Women have to be in charge of their own pleasure.” She gives me a meaningful look.
“Charge away,” Nick says, and everyone laughs. Everyone except me.
Back at the Zoo, Russ asks me to masturbate for him. I don’t really want to touch myself down there. “Can’t you do it?” I ask.
He gently bites the top of my ear. “I want to watch you do it.”
This is highly stressful. I don’t want to touch myself with him watching. I don’t even know what to do. But I don’t want him to think I’m a prude. And what if Sharon used to do it? I can’t not do what Sharon used to do. I can do this. If every other woman can make herself come, so can I. If it takes way too long I’ll just fake it. I’m good at faking it.
“It might take me a while,” I say.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Unless he meets someone else.
I dip my hands into my pants and attempt to arouse myself. I feel like an idiot. But I pretend I’m finding this arousing. I continue rubbing myself and it starts to feel better. And better. I feel him getting hard beside me. This apparently turns him on. Which turns me on.
I continue stroking myself, faster, harder, lighter, slower. He starts to stroke himself beside me. My legs and arms start to shake. My hands and feet start to feel cold, but we don’t stop. We’re each breathing so hard, we could have asthma.
Eventually I feel overwhelmed with heat, like an itch that desperately needs to be scratched, and then…
So that’s what everyone keeps talking about.
I love you, I think but don’t say.
russ becomes a copycat
Sunday, February 29, 7:30 p.m.
Score is four nothing, us. I’m tired, but I gotta keep going. I can’t remember the last time I slept. When is my superstrength going to kick in? And why is a fucking asshole second-year blocking me? Have to get past him. Move. Sweat. Can’t get it, shoot, block, miss, fuck.
Crack.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Ow.
I try to shake out my hand, but it hurts too much.
Ow.
My eyes sting, my hand kills. This sucks. There is no time for this.
“What’s wrong, Russ?” Nick asks, out of breath.
The middle finger on my right hand looks abnormally bloated, and ferociously angry. Ow. “I think it’s broken.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I don’t think so.” Ow. Maybe if I just shake it out-ow.
“I think you need to go to the health center, dude.”
Three hours later, I’m back at the Zoo, and my finger is wrapped in a metal plate. I am not happy. The nurse told me that MBA men have the highest broken-bone ratio of any group of students at the university. Apparently we all think we’re eighteen. This week she saw one broken leg, two pulled-out backs and one sprained neck.
“Where were you?” Kimmy asks when I knock on her door. “I thought you wanted to work on our Corporate Strategy assignment.”
I show her my hand. “I had a run-in with a basketball.”
“Looks like the basketball won.”
“Funny. It’s sprained.”
“I really wanted to go over the assignment, Russ. I’m done, but I wanted to check it against yours, in case.”
Hello? My hand? “Well, excuse me,” I say, annoyed.
She locks her door behind her. “We have to meet the group now about the female condom project. Sorry about your hand,” she says, almost as an afterthought, then leans over to gently kiss it.
“I’m okay,” I say, suddenly trying to be the tough guy. I guess I shouldn’t tell her I haven’t even read the Corporate Strategy assignment yet.
Nick and Lauren are waiting for us in Jamie’s room. “How are you feeling, dude?” Nick asks.
I shrug. Kimmy and I sit on the floor, our backs against the wall.
Jamie claps his hands together. “All right children, let’s get to work. I e-mailed each of you my part last night. Did anyone read it?”
“I did,” Kimmy says. The rest of us nod, but we’re looking at the floor.
“Did any of you finish your parts?” Jamie asks.
Nick and Kimmy simultaneously say, “I did.”
I’m staring at a very interesting crack in the paint on the wall.
“Guys, we have to finish this. I wrote the intro, but I can’t write the conclusion until you all give me your sections. It always helps when the intro and conclusion have something to do with the rest of the paper. And we have to practice. We’re presenting it as well as handing it in. Has anyone thought about props?”
When did he become so psycho? “Jamie, man, you have to chill,” I say. “The paper isn’t due until Wednesday.” I have other pressing priorities. Clubs, Kimmy, my finger. Another assignment due tomorrow. I thought breaking up with Sharon would free up some time, but I’ve been busier than ever these past two weeks.
Gotta keep moving, as they say. You have time to think when you stay still.
“I have a surprise,” Kimmy says. “I spoke to the retailer, and she sent me a box of freebies to give out to the class.”
Freebies? We would need them, but we’re not using condoms anymore since she’s on the pill.
We make plans to work during all our free time tomorrow and on Tuesday. We break up at around eleven.
“Are you coming to bed?” Kimmy asks, yawning.
“I can’t. I have to finish Strategy.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
She sighs. “Why don’t you use my work to fill in anything you’re missing? And let me know if I’ve forgotten anything major.”