Sunday night, I’m in bed with my lap desk on my bed, looking at Vivienne’s homework on my laptop. I can do this, I think, looking at Vivienne’s second question. This is the sticking point that I’ve been dragging my feet over.
2) What’s something you want to be experiencing regularly during sex?
Why is it so hard to write down what I want to write? Why is it so hard to admit that I, too, would like to experience the big O as much as my lovers? I will myself to scribble down quickly, “I now regularly enjoy experiencing orgasms during intercourse with my lover. He’s been patient and kind as we’ve worked together to find the best positions for me to achieve this.” Whew.
As I admitted to Viv, this is something I’ve never experienced. If I did, I’d be much more enthusiastic about getting it on, even when I haven’t had a couple of glasses of wine first. This is one of the biggest bummers of things ending with Jack when they did. I was still quite into the sex because of the newness of it. I thought I had a relationship so that I could delve into this kind of conversation.
He’d better not email me images from Iceland.
Vivienne’s next question is 3) What’s something that scares you about sex that you’d like to be open to?
Oof. One more embarrassing admission. Sex toys freak me out. I think they’re ugly. I went to a sex shop with Matt, my bike advocate flame. It was an overwhelming and unenjoyable experience. He had no patience for my trepidation. We left without buying anything but condoms.
I almost close my eyes as I boldly write out, “I have a selection of attractive sex toys that help heighten the mood and hit all the right spots to bring more pleasure.” I’m not sure if lovely and sex toys work in the same sentence, but I can live in hope. Whew.
I’m happy there’s only one more question: 4) What’s something you’ve only read about sexually that you’d like to experience?”
Nervous sweat is collecting under my arms as I consider my reply. I’m interested in something a bit controversial. I want to experience a G-spot orgasm. Some experts say it exists in many women; others say no, it’s a pipe dream. But the real people say that if you can find it and give it the proper stimulation, it helps create the most unbelievably long and pleasurable orgasms. Yes, please!
Feeling bolder, I write, “4) My lover knows exactly how to find my G-spot with his long, elegant fingers.” If anyone has the fingers for such a skill, it’s undoubtedly Asher Dillion. Vivienne’s idea of calling Rune by his stage name in my head as I imagineer a great new sex life with him as my lover is extremely helpful. I’m so turned on by this homework I decide to let my fingers do the walking again. I don’t need to listen to Rune narrate more of the steamy romance audiobook.
**
Mid-morning Monday, Rune and I are on the back deck working on his social media. We won’t head to Hummingbird Farm for the Fourth of July until later this afternoon.
I’m trying not to feel guilty over fantasizing about him last night. I tell myself that thousands of women have fantasized about him over the years, and, per Vivienne’s quip, he fantasizes about women back. Not about me, of course, except for that first kiss. But I’m sure he woke up this morning and exercised his wrist, thinking about Daphne. Whoever she is, I imagine her to be young, dark-haired, and incredibly chic and sophisticated.
I’ve been doing my best not to ruminate on this as we’ve been going through the pictures he took on his overnight to Seattle. We’re deciding which shots we want to add to the schedule of posts I’ve already designed for him. I’m impressed. He’s included a selfie of himself on the ferry looking windblown but very handsome in his light brown double-breasted suit and vintage Ray-Bans from Theo’s collection.
“I want to move the relaunch up. I want to do it today,” Rune tells me firmly, as if he’s just decided on this and wants to convince himself that it is the right thing.
“Okay,” I tell him, surprised and trying to stay focused on the images. It’s distracting with him sitting so close that his broad shoulder occasionally brushes mine as we look down at his phone. His hair is damp from a shower, and especially bed-heady. He smells even more beguilingly of tangerines than usual.
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“What image do you want to launch with?” I ask, telling myself to focus and be professional, “One of the latest books you’ve narrated?”
“No, this,” he says, holding up his left wrist. I noticed earlier he’s wearing a bracelet I’ve never seen before. It’s a triple role of small dark wooden beads with a small round flat silver charm at the end, “Can you take a pic for me?”
“Who is this?” I ask, studying the tiny, engraved elephant on the face of the charm, “One of my Hindu classmates in High School told me, but I can’t remember.”
“Lord Ganesha, he’s the lord of success and the remover of obstacles. I need both right now,” Rune tells me, a corner of his mouth lifting in a wry half-smile, “How should I hold my hand?”
“Lay it flat on the table,” I instruct, reaching for my phone and standing up.
“Okay, madam, art director,” he agrees readily. He lays his elegant, long-fingered hand on the rough wooden table, making sure the charm faces up and is centered.
"Where did you get this?" I ask, realizing it'll be an interesting shot if I can capture it the right way. The faded wood of the table and the darker beads set off his lightly golden tanned hand, which makes the charm pop.
"The bracelet was my mothers," he says, as still as a cat as I try different angles, "I had a friend add some beads to make it large enough for me. I found this charm on my travels to add to it and had my friend put it altogether. It came in the mail over the weekend."
"It's lovely," I tell him, "What kind of success do you want Lord Ganesha to help you with?" I ask, deciding it’s best if I position myself across from him and lean over the table.
"Excelling on new storytelling platforms," he tells me as I put on my knees on a chair and lean over to brace myself on my elbows over his hand, "and facing my demons."
He winks at me when I look up, surprised at this admission, "Here, here," I smile and nod, looking back down at the charm through my phone. Suddenly the scent of cedar and rosemary from my little bundle of herbs fills my nostrils. The world seems to tilt for a nanosecond. In my mind’s eye, a beautiful light pink lotus blossom rises out of a lake and blooms.
I freeze, holding my breath. The image fades. I take a deep breath, steady my hands, and take three pics in succession.
What the heck just happened?
“Why do you need Lord Ganesha right now,” I ask, trying to sound casual as I sit back and look at the images on my phone. I like the second one best. I zoom in on it and hand him my phone.
“That works,” he nods and hands me back my phone. He doesn’t seem to have noticed that anything strange has happened, “I pitched someone on an idea for a podcast this weekend,” he tells me, his face guarded.
“Wow, good for you,” I say, meaning it. I send the image to my laptop and sitting back on the couch next to him, which makes up the seating for one side of the table.
“Yes and no,” he says vaguely in the tone that means he’s not going to share anything more right now, “Oh, and I ordered you a brand-new copy of Howl’s.” He pulls a small brown paper-wrapped package from his computer bag and hands it to me.
“What happened to my copy?” I ask, annoyed, “Are you dog-earring the pages?”
“Worse. It’s now full of Post-it notes and highlighted sections,” he tells me blithely, ignoring my scowl as I unwrap the book, “This is the new pretty new cover from the UK, but I still like your coloring page better.”
“Of course you do Ruination; it stars you. Couldn’t you wait to buy your own copy?” I ask tersely. But he’s right. This new cover is lovely.
“I got caught up in the moment, excited by possibilities," he goes on, "Did you finish your Howl’s coloring page? There are some people I want to show it to.”
“Almost; I’ll have it done by tonight or tomorrow morning. Is it cool if Vivienne’s going to share it with Naomi and Marilyn?” I ask, my vanity at his wanting to share my illustration overcoming my annoyance.
“Yes. Excellent,” he beams at me as his phone rings, “I’ve got to grab this,” he says, standing and picking up his phone and bag, “See you at one?”
I nod and wave him off. I’d like to stay annoyed at him. It’s so helpful at countering my infatuation, but who knows what sort of interesting people he could be showing my illustration to? I've already sold several pieces of Theo's apparel collection to one of his contacts. I have to wrap them up and ship them this week.
I’m a vain creature, I think, as I open up my laptop to the social media design platform and Rune’s folder. I must also admit that I’m having fun working on his social media. It’ll be fascinating to see what kind of response we get when we launch his Instagram account today.
I upload the shot of his hand and start laying it out in the program. I decide it should only be the image itself, just his hand with the charm no text on it. But what should we say to accompany it?
I send him a note and run my eyes critically over the mix of little square posts on my computer screen. I like the vibe we’ve curated for him. It's a mix of his rather artsy scenic images from places he's been visiting around here, shots about books he's narrating, and quotes from his favorite spiritual gurus and favorite authors about storytelling. In other words, it's a creative introvert's way of being social. Take that Pamela Lyons.
I upload the image of his selfie, and another shot he took of one of the books he’s narrated in a bookstore window in a famous Seattle bookstore. I'm deciding where I want to place them in the overall schedule over the next week, when my phone beeps.
Rune: Say, “Let the new adventures begin!”