How Long You Should Wait to Have Sex: a Novel (22 page)

For the most part, I find myself wanting to turn back time. On the surface it may seem like I tend toward that choice because I’m a natural born fixer, but underneath, it’s really because I’ll take any excuse I can get to have more sex with John.

So it comes in handy that I have this gift when I accidentally make John feel stupid in front of his co-workers, by joking that he’s acting borderline flirtatious with one of his gay patients. I know he’s just trying to have a warm and friendly bedside manner, but everyone near the nurses’ station chimes in, and next thing you know, I’m one-upping them by creating this made-up visual where they’re on a date together, trying to figure out who would be the top and who would be the bottom.

I admit that my joke was incredibly inappropriate, and I immediately wish I hadn’t said anything. But for once, I can make my wish come true. All I have to do is convince John to sleep with me, which despite his anger at me isn’t particularly hard, considering that he’s under the impression that we’ve been dating for five months with no sex whatsoever.

My gift also comes in handy the time John thinks I’m hitting on his brother, and as part of my defense I say, “I wasn’t flirting with your brother—for one thing, I find him repulsive!” I say this, of course, in front of the brother, his wife, and a checkout girl at the grocery store. I really do find his brother repulsive—mostly due to his money-obsessed, two-dimensional, entitled personality—and the fact that he totally pinched my butt in the cereal aisle. I didn’t want John to know that his married brother was trying to get physical with his girlfriend, whom he himself had yet to get past second base with, so I defended the both of us with my off-colored admission.

I end up telling John that waiting for sex had gotten me really edgy, and I offer up the idea that maybe if we just knock out a quickie in the hotel next door, I would feel more relaxed around his family. John doesn’t need too many excuses to have sex at this point.

My gift again comes in handy the time I crash his car, the time I brake his grandfather’s urn, the time I set off all the fire alarms in his house and smoke up his kitchen walls by burning our dinner, the time I delete a show he hadn’t watched on the DVR, the time I laugh so hard I throw up a little, the time I eat too many Brussels sprouts and fart in bed, the time John comes over unannounced and finds out how messy I keep my apartment, the time I beat him at backgammon, the time I’m five minutes late for our reservation, the time I have a piece of spinach in my teeth, and let’s face it, pretty much anytime I just feel too horny to wait all the way until marriage to have sex.

John and I have been together for eight long months now, but if you count all the do-overs I’ve taken, I’ve probably been seeing him for closer to a year’s worth of time. He thinks he’s held out all this time, which I’m frankly impressed with, because I’m not even sure I could’ve held out for much more than the amount of time I did—which was less than three months, if you don’t count the first date or the third date.

He married his last wife after four months, just to keep her in the country. I would think that at this point getting himself laid by his own girlfriend would start looking like just as good of a reason to give marriage another go.

John hasn’t said as much, but I’m starting to think that he’s just about ready to go shopping for that ring. Or at least, that’s the excuse I give to convince Henry to let me have a few days off, which I’m actually planning to use to go on a secret giant press tour with Marty.

~

“I know what this is about, Samantha,” Henry freaks me out by saying.

“You do?” On the one hand, if he knows I’ve been working with Marty on the side and he’s not firing me, that means he secretly approves of my work with Marty, and wants to see if I can pull it off. On the other hand, if he hasn’t fired me for going behind his back that probably means that he doesn’t know… Unless, he does know, and he’s just waiting to have solid proof of my illicit dealings, so he can fire me with concrete grounds for dismissal.

“Yeah, I know,” Henry tells me confidently. “You want these days off because you’re trying to weasel out of Brigman-Myers Conference, which we all know is the most boring three days of the year.” The Brigman-Myers Conference is a full three days focused on business accounting. The Brigman-Myers Group are clients, so we have to show up out of solidarity, but we don’t learn anything that applies to us there, and for the most part, we don’t even understand what they’re talking about. It is extremely boring, mostly unnecessary, and I always gain three pounds by the time I leave, because there’s a buffet in the greenroom, which is where we usually end up sneaking off to during the more tedious presentations. But honestly, I hadn’t realized that it was the same week as the press tour I scheduled for Marty.

“Oh my God, is that the week of the Brigman-Myers Conference? I had totally forgotten about that! But that’s honestly not the reason I picked that week. I picked it because that’s when John gets his time off.” Big lie. “And if I don’t take vacation on the same days as John, how is he going to whisk me off to some tropical island where he can surprise me with a proposal?”

Henry’s not buying it.

“I’m pretty sure he’s planning something,” I go on, “he’s been acting really strange lately.”

“Samantha, I run a PR firm, so I have a pretty good instinct for spin. Tell me why I’m getting the feeling that this story is completely fabricated.”

Damn, he’s good. I’m standing by my story.

“I don’t know why you get that feeling.”

Henry thinks about my request, which is never a good thing, because when he doesn’t instinctively agree with you, it usually means that some kind of a job-threatening deal is gonna come out the other end.

“Well, Samantha, it’s true that you’re no more necessary than I am at the conference, except as a companion for me at the greenroom buffet.” At least he gets that much! “So I’ll give you your vacation days, but--“ Oh, crap, here comes the deal, “—if you don’t come back engaged, I will always harbor doubts about your honesty and your loyalty to me.”

Well, I’m not going to come back engaged because I’m not even going on vacation with John. I’m going on a press tour with Marty, who I haven’t told you I’m representing behind your back, because I’m planning to surprise you with the most high-profile client you have ever had at your firm—which he will be, as soon as I finish making him famous on this talk show circuit, which I need these vacation days to do!

I can’t tell him any of this.

“That’s not fair. I have no control over whether or not John will propose to me. I just imagine that he will soon, because—“ I can’t exactly tell my boss, “Because he wants to get laid,” so I improvise, “—because we’ve been together a long time now, and I don’t know, maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part. Maybe he has no intention of proposing.”

“I’ve told you my condition. And while it may seem strange to you, it’s based on a gut instinct that I’m trusting in myself. Now it may be that you’re trying to get out of the conference, and it may be something completely different that I’m not aware of, but something in my gut is telling me that your story isn’t right.” Damn is he good! “Now, if you want to change your mind about taking these particular vacation days, I will pretend this conversation never happened. Do you still want the days?”

So basically I have two choices. I can admit right now that I’ve lied to him, and restore his instant trust in me by pretending I did it to try to get out of the boring conference, or I can accept that I’ve lied too far to go back now, and I’ve worked too hard to schedule major interviews for Marty to have to cancel them.

Clearly my biggest mistake was not getting the days off before scheduling the interviews, but I wasn’t sure I could land the interviews that would make it worth my while to take the days off.

I know how to fix this. I’ll just take the days off, and pick up an engagement ring somewhere on my trip.

Then again, knowing Henry, he’ll probably think of the possibility that I faked the engagement, and find some way to double check my story with John. That means I’m gonna have to get John on board to corroborate my little ruse.

I really didn’t wanna have to bring up marriage again with John. We saw how well that went last time. Only this time, I can’t go and fix it with a sex-time reset, since I’ll need for John to actually remember what he’s supposed to say to Henry when he comes snooping. I am not looking forward to this conversation.

Chapter 25

I decide to cook French for dinner. That’ll relax John a bit. I put on Les Nubians as background music, right before John comes over, and make sure he’s focused on our delicious meal before I bring it up.

“So I got the days off to go on that press tour with Marty!” I announce, as if I were one hundred percent successful.

“Good,” John replies between bites, “does Henry know why yet?”

“Not exactly. I told him I was going on vacation with you.”

“Let’s hope I don’t run into him while you’re gone!” Shit. I hadn’t thought of that possibility. That could actually happen. Especially since Henry will probably stalk John’s house just to see if he’s on vacation at all. I’m fucked.

“You can’t let that happen. You’ll have to wear some kind of disguise while I’m gone.” John laughs because even though I was dead serious, what I just said is pretty ridiculous.

“I’m not wearing a disguise, Sam.”

“Fine, but if you run into him, you have to tell him you’re John’s twin brother, Sean.”

John laughs, “Sean is just the Scottish version of John. I don’t think my parents would name their kids Sean and John.”

“Fine. Be Ian. I don’t care.”

“Funny you should pick ‘Ian,’ that’s the Irish version of John.”

“Well I can’t help it if every name out there means John! Be whoever you want. Be Jesus, for all I care. Just be your twin brother and not yourself.”

John laughs at me some more, “I don’t know what you’re so worked up about. I’m not running into Henry while you’re gone.”

“You only think that because you don’t know my boss.” John laughs. He clearly thinks I’m being silly. We’ll see how silly he thinks I am when he runs into my boss while he’s supposed to be on vacation, and he has to come up with a name for his twin brother on the fly!
“And there’s one other thing, too,” I may as well tell him while he’s finding me so hilarious, “I told him we were going on vacation to get engaged.”

“You told him what?!” Funny, he’s not laughing anymore.

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy my own fake ring.”

“You will do nothing of the sort.” He actually seems kind of angry.

“Oh, do you wanna buy it?”

“No. You’re not wearing a ring.” Oh, yeah, he’s pissed. I don’t really understand why, though.

“What’s the big deal?”

“I haven’t proposed to you.”

“So?”

“So everyone we know will think I did.”

“Everyone won’t know about it. I’ll only wear it to work.”

“Listen to yourself. You want me to pretend I’m my own twin brother if I run into your boss while you’re gone. That’s how you think about stuff. You’re thorough. You don’t leave yourself open to accidents. And that’s why you won’t just wear the ring to work. You’ll have to wear it all the time. Then everyone will think it’s real, and that’ll force us to act like it’s real, and before we know it, it’ll become real.” I don’t like it, but he’s right about me, and I do see his point. “I want to get engaged to you on my own terms. When I want to. Not because everyone we know has already assumed that we’re engaged.” He takes a deep breath to try to calm down, but he’s not done venting, “As it is, you’ve announced our big news to your boss before announcing it to me. That’s just weird.”

“Sorry,” I gulp, “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“I don’t get you sometimes. You wanna wait until marriage to have sex and yet you don’t get how engagement—the step that leads to marriage—is a big deal?” Then he suddenly puts something together, “Wait, are you holding out on sex, to try to get me to give you a ring faster?”

“What? No!” I’m taken off guard. If anything, I’m trying to get the ring to guarantee he’ll still be here after sex.

I’m starting to realize that this isn’t the best version of this particular conversation, so I decide to seduce him.

“Anyway, I don’t have to hold out for sex, anymore. I love you and I trust you, so if you wanna have sex, let’s just do it right now.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know… After all that waiting, it just seems bizarrely easy all of sudden.”

“I guess, I wanna prove to you that I’m not holding out so I can get that ring.” He smiles wide.

“Your willingness to give in and trust me, like this, makes me want to give you the ring.”

“Really?”

Instead of answering, he leans in and kisses me softly. That was bizarrely easy, too. I’m starting to see why he was surprised I would give into sex so easily after all that “waiting”.

The kissing goes on for a while. It’s gentle and sweet and even loving, I think. Before I know it, I’m sitting on his lap, with my back to the French food on the table, and we’re making out for almost an hour.

Between the sweet kisses, he sneaks loving glances at me. My smile uncontrollably expands to match his.

I’m straddling him on his chair now, and unconsciously find myself grinding up against him, trying to get myself as close as I can to him. I can feel through his pants that he’s ready for anything.

Quickly, the longing gets too intense for me not to kick it up a notch. I unwillingly pull myself away just enough to undo his pants, and even the time to do that has me aching for more. I undo my pants while still grinding against him. The question now remains, how am I going to get them off when I don’t want to leave this comfy, hot straddle position. I just have to get it over with.

I kick my leg around just long enough to drop those pants to the ground and remove just one foot from its pant leg, before swinging my free leg back over him, and resuming the position.