“Some of my upbringing.”
“Right. And me against society and sexual prejudices.”
Her eyes glittered with a smile. “We’re both pretty normal, though. On the outside, at least.”
“But in the privacy of our own room? Or with our close friends?”
“We’re total rebels,” she agreed. “And we can be as kinky and perverted as we like!”
“Exactly!”
We shared a grin that faded to a happy smile. Then she smoothed her hand over the cover of her sketchbook.
“Okay,” she said slowly, “I know how you feel, but I—”
“I want to see it,” I said. “I know they’re guys from your past, and I know you had sex with them—”
“With one!” she squawked.
“Oral sex is still sex.”
“Fine! If you say so.”
“I say so. Trust me. Even jerking off is sex. It’s solo sex, but it’s still sex.”
“Yeah, okay. I get it. But ‘sex’ to me is ‘penis in vagina.’ And you should be glad that’s what I think! Otherwise we wouldn’t be doing anything at all.
I’d be miserable and probably dating a gay guy, and you’d be sleeping with some bimbo with big boobs who doesn’t like half the things I do.”
“Probably,” I laughed. Then I grew serious. “You seem to be hung up on your breasts. You know I—”
“I know. ‘Can you touch ’em?’ Yeah, I get it. But still, I’m so small. I mean, I don’t look like any of the women in Playboy.”
“Who cares? Okay, Hugh Hefner, obviously, but not me. I’ve told you before, you’re the petite model. I like you better than the women in Playboy.
Most of ’em are too hairy for my taste. And they all seem to come from the same mold. I mean, Hefner definitely has a type. But real beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. You know?”
“But don’t think I don’t notice how you react when you meet a woman like Carolyn. You made an effort to look her in the eye.”
“Part of that is just being polite,” I said. “But also ’cause I don’t want to make you feel self-conscious. I like your body, especially how we go together. I mean, Kendall had big boobs, and we never quite matched. You and I do. We’re the right proportions, if that makes sense.
“So, yeah,” I continued, “I think Carolyn’s attractive, and I’m a guy, so I notice breasts, but I’m not hung up on ’em or anything. Well, I am—I’m totally a breast-man—but small and firm is just as nice as big and soft.
Besides, I like other things more than breasts. A healthy attitude about sex, for example. You know that.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, back to your sketchbook…”
“Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m still nervous about showing you, so I keep coming up with distractions.”
“I get it. This is like if I had a sketchbook with Gina and Kendall.”
“Not to mention twenty-eight more.”
“Thirty’s just a guess,” I said. “I really haven’t counted. It’s probably less.”
“Or maybe more.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Whereas I know exactly how many men I’ve had.”
“What can I say?” I said. “I didn’t think I’d need to keep score.”
She grinned. “Well, you’re the man, so you’re supposed to win this one.”
“There’s that double standard again,” I warned.
“Gosh.” She blinked. “I didn’t even realize.”
“Mmm hmm. It’s pervasive, even when you know better. Now… tell me about the guys in your sketchbook.”
“How about two of them? I… don’t know if I’m ready to tell you more.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to tell you about all of them.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“I haven’t asked about all the women in your past, have I?”
“Fair enough. So… tell me about these guys.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can do this,” she said to herself. Then she felt along the edge of the book until she found the page she was looking for. She’d dog-eared it so she wouldn’t have to flip past pages she wasn’t ready to explain yet. She took another breath to settle her nerves.
“Okay, here goes…” She opened the book, and I took a good look for the first time. She pretended to look as well, but she was really studying me out of the corner of her eye. We went through several pages like that.
The sketches were basically anatomical studies of penises, mostly to improve and refine her technique. Some were simple line drawings, while others were fully shaded. And she’d used colored pencils for one, so it looked real enough to touch.
Part of me thought it was weird that she’d drawn them without the rest of the guy, but the rest of me understood. Most artists did studies like that all the time, of hands or eyes or other body parts. Wren had thought they were sexual because of what they were, but I did the same thing with buildings. I’d have whole pages of corbels, balusters, or even lintel decorations. They weren’t the least bit sexy. So why were penises different, especially for an
artist like Christy?
“You understand,” she said with more than a touch of relief. “Sure, I like drawing them, but they’re also part of what I do. I’m an artist, a sculptor, and they’re part of the human body.”
“Exactly.”
“And I’ve drawn plenty of guys I haven’t… um… been intimate with.
Like you, before you came to your senses.”
We shared a grin before I nodded at the page.
“But you were intimate with these two,” I said. “And if I had to guess, not very close to the first guy. You only had a couple of sketches of him, but a lot of the second guy, and he’s the full-color one.”
“Can you really tell the difference?” she asked. “I mean, they’re pretty similar.”
“Sure. I’m not like most guys, remember? I don’t mind looking at dicks.
So, yeah, I can tell the difference.” I flipped through the pages to point them out. “Besides,” I added, “the second guy has… what? Ten or twelve drawings on three pages?”
“Yes. That’s Peter. I have drawings of him—his face, I mean—in one of my high school sketchbooks if you want to see. It’s at my parents’ house.”
I shrugged. “I care what he looked like, in a general way, but not really. I mean, he’s part of your past, right?”
She nodded.
“Okay. So, who’s the first guy?”
“Vaughn.” She frowned. “Not my best decision ever.”
My eyebrows rose with a question.
“Before I tell you, I guess I should let you know why I picked these guys.
I really wanna know your group secret, the one you and Leah were talking about. I think I’ve figured it out, but…” She shrugged with undisguised curiosity.
“Ah, so that’s what this is? Quid pro quo?”
“Whatever that means.”
“It’s Latin. It means ‘something for something.’”
“Right. That’s exactly what I want. I tell you something and you tell me something. I hope you don’t think that’s bargaining for sex, but—”
I shook my head.
“Yeah, you know we’re going to have sex, no matter what. Well, not sex-
sex, but you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes. “Why am I so nervous?
I’m chattering! I know you aren’t going to think I’m a tramp, but—”
I kissed her, long and lingering and full of intent. “I think it’s sexy that you had boyfriends before me. And I want to hear about them.”
“I know,” she said in a small voice. “I can tell. Mr. Big is pretty big at the moment.”
“Mmm hmm. He wants to hear all about your oral adventures.”
“Okay. Here goes…”
She’d met Noelani at the beach near her house in Hawaii, right after her family had moved from Japan. They were in the same grade and had similar interests, from dance and gymnastics to swimming and surfing. Christy had developed a crush on another surfer, Vaughn, who was friends with Noelani’s older brother, Peter. The guys had the same last name, so they were in the same home room in school.