Animate Me (11 page)

“I’m so sorry.” I look down and feel so frustrated that I can’t do anything to take that memory away. “So what are you going to do now to Arnauld? Let’s think of something deserving of the offense,” I say determinedly.

“Something really evil,” she agrees. But just then her phone vibrates telling her that she has a new text and I can see on the screen that it’s Arnauld trying to reach her.

“
Where are you?”
she reads off the screen. She laughs and then slowly types the answer. “
Exactly where I want to be.”
After hitting send, she looks at the phone and curses, “Fuck you, Arnauld.”

I smile, hoping she really means that. She turns and looks at me. “Have I ever told you that his real name isn’t Arnauld…it’s Arnold?”

“Arnold?” I choke out, almost spitting up my drink.

“Yeah, isn’t that rich? I discovered his high school yearbook once and found his picture. I called him Arnold once when we were having a fight and he stormed off like a big baby.” She grins.

A second later her phone prompts again.

She reads his response aloud. “
What are you doing?”
Her fingers fly over the text keys to respond. I imagine I can see the steam rising out of her ears like what happens to Yosemite Sam when Bugs Bunny really pisses him off.

“
I thought you knew. I’m bending over. If he fucks me again I really think I’ll be able to close this deal.”

Why did she have to read that to me? It makes me sick and yet arouses me at the same time. I’m in pain, and I down the rest of my drink. The room tilts as a result.

She reads his response with a mock angry face. “
That isn’t funny, Brooke.
Oh, hairy back is getting angry,” she slurs.

“
No, it really isn’t,”
she types while reading aloud, then shuts off her phone. She waves for the waitress, who comes over warily. “Another round, please.”

You go, Buttercup!

I sit quietly wondering what to say. Finally I offer my best idea. “You want me to beat him up? My brother, who’s looks like the Incredible Hulk, would help and it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“You’re so thoughtful, and for the record that’s really hot.”

“I mean it,” I say. I want her to understand I mean business.

“I know you do and that means a lot to me. Still I have to say no, but thanks. Look, I’m a little loaded and enjoying venting, but for all my bitching I know he didn’t really want me to sleep with him. Charm him, yes, but not fuck him.”

“It’s still disgusting,” I insist.

“Yes, it is.” Her head drops and we sit silently for a minute before she looks back up. “Look, enough about me. What happened to you today?”

I realize that I shouldn’t tell this story drunk, but I’m overwhelmed with the urge to let out this gnawing frustration.

“Oh, I’m having envy issues. I’m so pathetic.”

“What happened?” she asks sympathetically.

“I had lunch with my brother today. After lunch we stopped at the comic book store, and I introduced him to my friend, Billie. She runs the place and is exceptionally good looking. And of course they had an instant love connection.”

“But I thought you liked Dani, why does him liking Billie, and her liking him, bother you?”

“I don’t know, probably because they’re most likely in bed right now. Women always fall all over Curtis and drag him to bed. He has amazing sex all the time, and I don’t. Things never work out that way for me.”

“Really?” she asks, looking disappointed for me.

“Sorry,” I groan, letting my face falls into my open hands.

“You don’t? What do you mean you don’t? You make it sound like you’ve never had great sex or something.”

I look up at her and blanch as I watch the blood also drain from her face.

“Oh my God,” she chants. “You’re not a virgin, please tell me that you’re not a virgin.”

I’m already the worst kind of loser and I don’t even care how it looks anymore. Defeated I lean into my drink and take another long sip. “Well, technically I may as well be for the lack of fun I’ve had.”

“I don’t understand. Is something wrong with you physically? I would imagine not since you felt more than healthy when you were holding me last night.”

I’m horrified and dumbstruck. I can’t even look her in the eye. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable talking to you about sex, or I mean my lack of hot sex, Brooke. It’s so humiliating.”

“First of all Nathan, I love to talk about sex. It’s my favorite subject. So please don’t be shy.”

She scoots over closer to me and reaches over, putting her hand on my knee. “You have to understand, I was raised by free-love hippy parents who were very open. By the time I was in high school, my mom left a candy jar full of condoms by the front door and tried, to my horror, to show me the best way to perform fellatio on a banana. Hell, all she ever talked about was sex. So there’s nothing you could say that would change what I think of you. This is a subject I’m very comfortable with. Besides, I bet I can help you.”

I look down into my drink and nod. “Okay.”

“Let’s take a step back for a moment. I knew about the awkward kissing issue, so is it similar with sex? Did you try, but not like it?”

“I don’t know where to start.” I pull on my hair in frustration.

“How about at the beginning?” she suggests gently.

“Well, I think I already told you that I was really shy in high school with the girls. My senior year I ended up going out with my friend’s sister for a while. We fumbled around and did stuff a few times but she was even more uncomfortable than I was about it and it wasn’t very satisfying. We really didn’t have any common interests, nor did we have good chemistry together so that didn’t help. We finally just gave up. Later when I got to CalArts I met Rachel, another animation student and within weeks we were involved.”

“She’s the one that didn’t like to kiss.”

I nod. “Yeah, but she’s so great in so many ways. We felt the same about animation and we talked about it non-stop. Before you knew it we were glued at the hip, together all the time. I was so happy to finally have that with someone.”

“That sounds great.”

“It was. Plus she was my biggest support, always telling me that I was the most talented in our year…that I was going to have a great career.”

“How sweet.” Brooke nods, encouragingly.

“It was so confusing though when it came to sex. She was very physical with me, always touching me, holding my hand, sitting on my lap but whenever I would try to initiate anything more she would just freeze. It started with the kissing. She hated the kissing. So finally I gave up with that.”

“But I had needs you know. I loved her and wanted to be with her…really be with her. So I just kept asking and finally she gave in, agreeing to try making love.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” she says, smiling.

“Honestly, I don’t know what I did wrong. I thought since we were in love it would be different than high school. But no matter how I touched her she didn’t react the way I expected…the way I’d seen in movies or read in books. She just laid there. And then when I tried to, you know, go inside of her, she said it hurt and she stopped me.”

I realize that my hands are twisted together painfully, and I pull my fingers apart and flex them while sighing.

“I cared about her so much. It took me weeks to get over that first time.”

“That’s awful,” she says.

“The next time I tried, I got us drinking first thinking it would relax her and the situation. Instead it just made her emotional. She started crying when I was only halfway inside of her.”

“Damn,” she mutters.

I nod. “You can imagine how I felt.”

“So I started doing research on how to please a woman. I desperately needed to figure out what I was doing wrong. I was obsessed. It was like I was trying to crack a secret code. I put together an arsenal of techniques and a plan of seduction…and the only thing that seemed to work was…you know…” I can feel my face on fire.

“When you went down on her?” She gently asks.

I nod, and look down embarrassed. “She was crazy for that and I got really good at it.”

“But what about you?” I can’t help but notice how sad Brooke looks, and my heart sinks even further.

“I loved making her feel good so it wasn’t the end of the world. Sure I wanted more, much more, but what could I do? And that is when I finally just accepted that I just didn’t have it — that indefinable thing that men should have to make women want them.”

But suddenly Brooke’s mood seems to shift, and she even looks a bit angry.

“Why are you making this all about you? What you did or didn’t do? Did you ever consider that she was just frigid when it came to full on intercourse?”

“Not really because she said she had a boyfriend in high school that really made her feel good. She made it clear it was me; whatever it was, I was lacking. Besides, my experiences hadn’t been good in high school either.”

Brooke huffs and folds her arms over her chest. “Really? Maybe she was lying about the boyfriend. She could’ve made him up to cover for her issues. Did you consider that?”

“No, Rachel wouldn’t do that to me. She loved me; I know she did. We stayed close even despite all that.”

“Do you still see her?”

“No, other than seeing her once last year; but we still talk. She took a job at Pixar and moved up North.”

“Does she have a boyfriend now?”

“Not that I know of, but that doesn’t prove anything. I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

“You’re unreal, Nathan.” She shakes her head with disbelief. I can hear the martini drawl in her tone. “Maybe I should just sleep with you and show you what you’re capable of. You need to know what good sex is.”

Oh, good God
. My heart flip-flops at the idea of it. Yet, despite the absolute thrill and how much I want her, this isn’t how I would want it to happen for us. I need her to desire me…not have sex with me to help me.

“Do you think that’s a good idea,” I ask carefully. “I mean, that’s really generous of you but are you sure you’d want to do that? I mean, you aren’t even attracted to me.”

“How do you know that? Maybe I’m wildly attracted to you? Maybe I go to bed every night thinking about you that way.”

Okay…it’s official. She’s really drunk.

I know I’m beet red. No mirror is needed to confirm this. I’m also so painfully hard that I have to lean back in the booth and pivot my hips to adjust myself. “Brooke…” I stammer.

“Okay, I’m sorry…I’m being crass. My point, poorly made, is that I want to help you. And if showing you how to have fun in bed helps you, I’d like to do that. I think you’re amazing, Nathan. I want you to understand how beautiful sex can be. I don’t want you to have all these negative images plaguing you. You aren’t ever going to be truly happy until you get past this.”

Our waitress comes over with her hands on her hips. “Can I get you two some food? Looks like you could use it. Today’s special is prime rib with baked potatoes, how about that?”

We both nod at the same time. When she leaves to put the order in, Brooke reaches over and rests her hand on my arm.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take this slow…one small step at a time. All right?”

I nod, still completely confused about what I’ve signed up for. Am I getting a baked potato and Brooke in my bed? The whiskey must be playing with my head. I can’t even remember if I told her that I had lied about liking Dani, when all I want is her.

After devouring our plates of food, and considerably more sober, we debate in the parking lot who should drive. She finally agrees to let me drive her car. Back at Sketch Republic the parking structure is empty except for my little red Mini-Cooper. I desperately don’t want to say goodnight yet. I never get enough of her.

I am so done for.

After I park her car next to mine we both get out and face each other. She steps closer, and I step back until I’m against my car.

“Are you okay?” she reaches over and touches my wrist. It’s the lightest touch, like a butterfly brushing against me. Yet still, the spot burns hot and wild.

“Shall we practice?” She steps closer still. There’s nowhere for me to go.

“Practice?” I ask, my voice shaky.

“Our kiss, just our kiss,” she whispers and a second later she is pressing up against me. When our lips connect my mind goes gloriously blank, forgetting the rules, the geometric optimal angle, just how incredible it feels when Brooke’s tongue is tangled with mine.

Next thing I know my hand is in her hair and my hips are pressing into hers.
Oh yeah.

“See,” she whispers, in between gasps. “This is absolutely right…just as it should be.”

I kiss her again, and again.

“Can I touch you?” she whispers.

I take a sharp breath. I can’t help it; I want it so much. I think I nod, but I’m not really sure.

But next thing I know I feel her stroking me outside my pants.

“Is this okay?” she looks up into my eyes.

I swallow hard and nod.

“Let me tell you…you feel so amazing, just right. Do you understand?” The look of lust she gives me sets me on fire. She tightens her fingers over me for a long moment before slowly removing her hand.

My body is screaming for more, but I know we’re done. She’s pulling away. “That felt so good,” I whisper.

“When you touch yourself later, remember how good that felt, okay?”

I nod with a grin as she gets into her car and pulls away. She looks a bit flustered herself. Could she be feeling aroused too?

As she passes through the lot gate I fight the urge to run after her like Superman, so I can pull my Lois out of the damn car and into my arms. But in reality I’m Clark Kent, bumbling and slow, and she’s just turned onto San Fernando Road and out of my sight.

I quickly get in my car, anxious to get home and spread out across my bed. The vivid image of her hands on me, wrapped with her seductive words, echo in my head all the way home.

Oh, I’ll remember all of this when I touch myself Brooke. Will you?

“
You’re afraid to tell Wilma, aren’t you?” ~Barney Rubble to Fred Flintstone
^vii