“Yes. What if there’s a point in your relationship when you want to give him everything, but you can’t, because of the pain, or the fear of pain, whether it’s psychological, physiological, or both. I can’t think of anything sadder than losing the man of your dreams because you can’t give him intimacy.”
“You can’t, huh?”
“I’m being serious.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is when Mr. Right enters your life, you need to be ready for him. And what I mean by that is you need to feel comfortable. You need to feel confident about your sexuality, and there’s only one way that can be achieved.”
“And what way is that?”
“Practice.”
Maybe bursts into laughter. Her whole body shakes as her laughter cascades from her throat and bounces off the furniture. Tears start to form in her eyes.
“What is so fucking funny?” Sam says.
“You’re the most manipulative bastard I’ve ever met!” she says, then laughs again.
“I admit it. But that doesn’t make me wrong.”
“Yes it does! That’s exactly what makes you wrong.”
“Think about it,” Sam says. “Who could possibly be better to help you get through this? I’m the only man in your life who knows about your sexual issues, and the only person who’s managed to get you dilated without pain. I’ve followed every step of your treatment. I’ve seen you naked. I’ve touched you.”
“Inappropriately!”
“Yes! And that’s behind us, now.”
“You’re insane.”
“We’ve known each other nearly a year. I understand what makes you tick. I’ve invested more than a quarter million dollars turning you into the person you are today. And regardless of what happens, I’m going to continue employing and supporting you, if you let me. And have I mentioned I adore you? I do. And I love you, too, as you know full well. And the best part of all?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve told me how things are going to be between us, and how they’ll be in the future. And I’m okay with it! I’ll be the guy who loves you, takes care of you, talks to you day and night, for any reason, anytime you wish. I’ll be the guy who makes it possible for you to give yourself to the man of your dreams. And the minute you’re ready to do so, I’ll step aside.”
Maybe shakes her head.
“What?” Sam says.
“I don’t believe any part of it.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“That’s okay too. But let me ask you this: what have you got to lose?”
“Apart from my dignity and self-respect?”
“Yes.”
She thinks about it a minute. Then surprises him by saying, “Out of curiosity, let’s see what you look like without your clothes.”
44.
Moments later,Sam gasps, falls off her, rolls onto his back.
“That’s it?” Maybe says.
“For now. Sorry.”
“Thirty seconds?”
“What can I say? I was excited.”
“Jesus. I thought, you know, an older guy?”
“What about it?”
“I thought that was the big thing about older guys. They’re able to hold out longer.”
“Look. You need practice, I need practice.”
Maybe gives a half smile. “That’s sort of sweet.”
“Thanks. Anyway, being sexually satisfied is not what’s important right now.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“You know what I mean. The big news is we achieved having sex. Without pain.”
“True. The problem is I didn’t feel anything at all.”
“You must’ve felt something.”
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Sam frowns. “Give me a minute.”
“Why, you want to fuck me two more times?”
“Funny. Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Why won’t you let me take off your top?”
“I’m a mess up there.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I’m self-conscious about my breasts.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But that’s the point. You don’t have to worry what you say to me.”
“They go in different directions.”
“Let me have a look.”
“You’re a pervert.”
“Let me see.”
She shows him. “See what I mean?”
“These are great boobs. But yeah, I see what you mean.”
“I can’t show these to someone I love.”
“Someone who loves you won’t care.”
“I’ll care.”
“Then I’ll get them fixed.”
“How?”
“This is the simplest surgery in the world. Thirty minutes, tops. Two weeks recovery.”
“What’re you, a plastic surgeon?”
“No. But a few stitches on the inside here,” he points, “and here…and you’re perfect.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Will the stitches show?”
“No. They’ll be hidden under here…and here.”
“Will it hurt?”
“A little. But it’ll be worth it. To you.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
“My pleasure. And speaking of pleasure, I believe I’m ready, if you’re willing.”
She frowns. “I suppose you’ve earned another shot.”
He flips her over.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she says.
“Practicing. Let me know if I hurt you in any way.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll know.”
He enters her, and the experience makes him light-headed. He pulls her back, so that she’s on her knees, and after a couple of minutes, he hears her moaning softly. He’s behind her, and she can’t see the smile on his face. Nor could she possibly know what he’s thinking at this very moment, which is, I’m fucking Donovan Creed’s daughter!
When they’re done, he says, “Will you keep killing for me?”
“Yes,” she says. “If you keep paying me.”
“We make a perfect team.”
“What on earth makes you think that?
“You’re willing to kill for me, and I’m willing to die for you.”
45.
“How much are you paying the other girl?” Maybe says.
“What girl?” Sam says.
“The one who’s been taking my classes at Mabry.”
“Twenty grand.”
“For twenty grand the best she can do is a B-plus in biology?”
“Like I said, the professor’s a dick.”
Maybe laughs. “That’s what I told my father.”
“You spoke to him?”
“Of course.”
“I thought you weren’t taking his calls.”
“If I ignore my father too long, he starts checking around.”
“You wouldn’t tell him about any of this, would you?”
“Are you crazy? He’d kill you.”
“Yes.”
Maybe studies his face a minute. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell him?”
“Should I be?”
“Yes. If you ever displease me enough, you’re toast.”
“Then promise you’ll never tell.”
“I won’t promise that.”
“Will you at least promise not to mention my name?”
“We’ll see. Right now he thinks you’re a post-Rapture pet salesman named Chuck.”
“You’re shitting me!”
Maybe laughs.
After ordering room service, Sam drives her home. Tries to kiss her at the door, but she puts her hand between their faces to block his lips.
“We don’t have that type of relationship,” she says. “Remember?”
“Sorry. I’ll check around, find the best doctor for the boob job. I’ll let you know when and where.”
“We’ll have a meeting first, right?”
“You and the doctor? Of course.”
“Thanks again for that.”
“My pleasure.”
Kimberly enters her apartment, locks the door behind her, heads for the kitchen, sees the message light blinking. She presses the button, hears her father’s voice. She looks at the digital clock on the oven. 8:55 a.m. Which makes it 5:55 in Vegas.
She calls her father, gets his voice mail. Leaves a message. “You said to call anytime before nine. I stupidly assumed you’d wait till the last minute to hear from me. But no. It’s exactly 8:55, and you’re nowhere to be found. Thanks a lot!”
46.