Just Friends With Benefits (24 page)

Nothing seemed to bother him. Not my endless stories about my college glory days. Not my insistence that Eric knew more about music than anyone. He didn’t even flinch when I referred to the Philadelphia Flyers as a basketball team. It was only after the date that Sam informed me the Flyers were a hockey team. On our third date, I told him my mom wished I’d fall for a Jewish guy just to see how he would react.

“That’s okay,” he said with a laugh. “My sister converted to Judaism two years ago. That makes me sort of Jewish by association.”

But he wasn’t a kiss ass. He made fun of me plenty. Especially the collection of sappy music on my Ipod like Five For Fighting’s “100 Years” and Bonnie Rait’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me.” And when I enthusiastically sang along with the jukebox to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” he hid one arm behind his back while pretending to play the drums to mimic Rick Allen. He was plenty obnoxious, but on our fourth date, when we befriended tourists from Scotland who wrapped their arms around his shoulders while singing Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” at the top of their lungs, I felt his charm deep in my loins and I had to have him.

Our beers were empty and when he asked if I wanted another one, I shifted my bar stool so I was leaning into him, put my hand on his thigh and said, “No. I don’t want another beer. I just want you.”

Ryan’s lips curled up slightly but did not quite make it to a smile. He nodded, turned to the bartender and said, “We’re gonna close out our bill now.”

We didn’t say a word during the few blocks walk from The Dubliner to my apartment. We just held hands and walked as briskly as possible. We hurried into the elevator and just as the door was about to shut, a hairy arm shoved its way inside and the door opened again to allow entrance to a man and his dog, two young girls and a older woman. Ryan and I stood on opposite sides from each other and as the elevator stopped on every floor before mine, we’d sneak glances at each other trying not to laugh. When at last we made it to my floor, I grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him towards my apartment at the end of the hall. I started to unlock my door but when he began kissing my neck from behind, I dropped my pocketbook, turned around, put my arms around his neck and kissed him. We sucked face like horny teenagers for awhile until Ryan moved aside some hair near my right ear and whispered, “Think we should go inside?”

I held his face in my hands, kissed the top of his nose and then his chin before saying, “If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

“My wish is your command.”

With a devilish grin, he said, “You mean ‘your wish is my command’?”

“Whatever. Get your ass inside,” I said.

We didn’t bother turning on any of the lights in my apartment, but I insisted on background music. “I don’t like fooling around in silence,” I said. “Is that weird?”

“Not really. But I don’t think I can perform to Barry Manilow or Babs.” Ryan sat on my couch and straightened the pile of direct mail catalogs I kept on my coffee table. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out on the off chance I might decide to order the stainless steel bakeware set from Crate & Barrel or the new bra from Victoria’s Secret.

As I walked towards my CD player and pondered our choices, I said, “Really? I thought we’d dance to the Copacabana first to get in the mood. Not for you?”

My back was still toward Ryan but, when I felt him tap me in the back with his finger, I spun around to face him.

“Stephanie,” he said. “I’d listen to a CD of you singing at your Bat Mitzvah if it meant I could see you naked.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Seriously. You’ve never heard me sing.”

“Uh, yes I have.” Assuming a high pitched, completely off-key tone, Ryan began to sing “Take the bottle. Shake it up. Break the bubble. Break it u-up!” until I pushed him and said, “Do you want to see me naked or what?”

His fingers already working the buttons on my blouse, he said, “Hells yeah.”

And with that, Ryan and I had sex for the first time, but not before I put on the
Saturday Night Fever
soundtrack. We simultaneously made out and undressed to “Staying Alive” and I nearly lost it when Ryan started dancing in his boxers. During “How Deep is Your Love,” Ryan admired my nipples for an extended period of time. We kissed some more during “Night Fever” and I started cracking up.

He was leaning over me, one hand on the bed and the other softly caressing the side of my face. “You know I’m not laughing at you, right?” I asked. “It’s just I’ve never hooked up to the Bee Gees before. Kind of amusing.”

“You can laugh at me all you want. So long as it’s not right after I take off my boxers. That would be bad, Steph.”

I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t really concerned. “Moment of truth time?” I asked.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said.

“Flip over so I can do my thorough examination.”

“My wish is your command.”

He was now on his back and I placed my thumbs on the elastic of his boxers and very slowly pulled them down. With each gentle tug, I looked up at him and smiled wickedly. Finally, I planted a kiss on his belly where there was a trail of dark hair leading downward. I ripped the boxers the rest of the way, exposing a perfectly acceptable sized package. “Whew,” I said as I wiped my brow in jest. “You had me worried there for a moment, but this will do just fine.”

Since I was down there already and his penis was staring right at me, practically saying “please,” I decided not to limit my kisses to just his belly. I always wondered if I was very good at it but I had read enough articles on the art of the blow job to be fairly confident. And no one had ever complained. Ryan certainly seemed pleased.

His face flush, he said, “Your turn” and started to inch down the length of the bed. Suddenly, I felt nervous. I tapped him on the head and when he looked up at me said, “Can I take a rain check?”

Looking slightly offended, he sat up and said, “Uh, sure. You okay?”

I sat up too and pushed the blankets off of the floor so there was nothing between our naked bodies. Pushing him on his back, I said, “I’m more than okay. I just want to be with you. I mean, really be with you. But I’ll definitely turn in that rain check another time.” And I meant it. I just found oral sex more intimate than intercourse and wasn’t ready.

The smile back on his face, Ryan said, “works for me!” flipped me over so I was on my back and kissed me. I kissed him back until kissing turned into kissing and groping, and we kissed and groped until kissing and groping turned into kissing, groping and fucking. And when the fucking came to an end, we both lay on our backs, spent and looking up at the ceiling. But then Ryan poked me in the belly.

I turned my head to the side to face him. He was propped on his side smiling at me. I poked him back. Knowing full well why he was so giddy, I asked, “What are you smiling about?”

Ryan shrugged. “Orioles won tonight.”

I glared at him. He glared back and we attempted a staring contest. Within seconds, I started laughing. Ryan had more practice keeping a straight face, thanks to his weekly poker night with the guys but moments later, started laughing too.

Afterwards, we stayed up for hours watching infommercials. I was this close to buying a fruit dehydrator but Ryan had one and wasn’t impressed.

I sat up and looked at Ryan who was lying on his back propped up against both of my pillows. “So, who did you sleep with before buying
your
fruit dehydrator?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I thought about it for a second before responding. “Actually not. So long as she’s no competition for me now.”

“No worries, Steph,” he said.

“Good. Now I can sleep peacefully. ‘Night, Ryan.”

Ryan inched closer and curled his body around mine. “Good night, Stephanie.”

I closed my eyes but knew I wouldn’t fall asleep right away. I was totally fine staying up, playing the night back in my head over and over again. I was at the point
in my flashback
where Ryan and I left the bar when he whispered from behind, “Steph?”

Without moving, I said, “Yeah?”

“I heard somebody say.”

I wiggled out of his embrace and turned around to see Ryan lying perfectly still with his eyes closed. “You heard somebody say what?” I asked.

Without opening his eyes, Ryan answered, “Burn Baby Burn, Disco Inferno! Burn Baby Burn, Burn that mama down!”

Later that week, I met Suzanne at Starbucks for an afternoon snack. She already knew I had slept with Ryan since I sent her a text from my bathroom as soon as Ryan had fallen asleep, but over full fat white chocolate mochas with whip, I spilled the dirty details. Our chairs were side by side and facing the window so we could watch the suits walk by on their lunch hours

I took the first sip of my drink, extra careful not to get whipped cream on my nose. “Did your high school have superlatives, like Best Looking or Most Likely to Succeed?” I asked.

Suzanne nodded. “Yes. I won Most Talkative.”

“Not surprised,” I said rolling my eyes.

“Neither was anyone in my class. Anyway, why?” she asked.

“Well, if I could give out superlatives for my sexual partners, Ryan would win ‘Most Fun Lay’ hands down.”

Suzanne scooted her chair closer to mine and, turning sideways to face me, asked with interest, “What was so fun about it?”

“Everything!” There was a lot to tell and I didn’t know where to start. I figured I’d start with foreplay and move forward from there. “Well, we were listening to the
Saturday Night Fever
soundtrack and I had told him that hooking up in silence made me uncomfortable, so whenever too much time went by without us saying anything and the only sounds were us breathing and kissing, he would start singing along to the music to lighten the mood.”

Suzanne smiled and took a sip of her coffee. “Keep going.”

I flashed back to the night in question and started laughing. “Okay, you know that joke about guys reciting baseball team lineups in their heads to stop from coming too soon?”

Suzanne nodded.

“Well, he was ready to come and I wasn’t quite there yet and when I told him, he proceeded to call out the roster from the soccer team he coaches. Out loud. It was priceless.”

“Insert important question here: Did you come?”

“Yes, I did, thank you very much,” I said, blushing.

Suzanne responded flatly, “Sounds hot, Steph.”

Feeling protective of my new beau, I said, “I had hot, intense sex with Hille in the bathroom and you know what? I don’t recall laughing once!”

“Speaking of Hille, what does he think about your new boyfriend?”

“He doesn’t know about him.”

Looking at me like I went outside in the rain without an umbrella and was surprised to get wet, Suzanne said, “Trust me. He knows. If Eric knows, he knows.”

“Eric doesn’t know either,” I said.

Suzanne put down her cardboard coffee cup and crinkled her nose at me. “Really? Does anyone know?”

“Just you. And my mom. She calls me every day at work and always wants to know what I’m doing later and it’s too hard to lie. I’ve given her a slightly skewed version of reality, though. She thinks we’ve only gone on two dates and that I’m on the fence as to whether I like him.” I was afraid if I told my mom how much I really liked Ryan, she would start looking at diamond cuts. Not to mention that almost every time I had told my mom I was excited about a guy in the past, the relationship was over within a week, case in point, Craig Hille, and I didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Looking agitated, Suzanne said, “We’ll get to your mom later. I’m still trying to understand why you haven’t told any of your other friends.”

“I don’t know. Just hasn’t come up,” I said.

“Bullshit. You talk to those guys all the time and I’m certain they ask ‘What’s new?’ each time. I’d think that would be an appropriate time to say ‘Actually. I started dating a guy.’ Stephanie, you like him enough to sleep with him! How are you possibly keeping him a secret and why?”