“I know that’s your fear talking,” Marianne said, “and I’ve been saying the same thing to you for the past year to no avail. So you’re either going to listen or you’re not. But now that you have this friend to confide in—what’s her name again?”
“Caroline.”
“Yes, Caroline. Maybe she can help you uncover the path you need to take better than I can. Piper”—she leaned forward in her straight-backed chair—“there is sexual fulfillment in your future if you allow it to happen. Lots of it. All you need to do is make up your mind to live again, and it will happen for you.”
Now it was Piper’s turn to chuckle. “I have news for you. Caroline is not going to advocate me swapping things up. She had her own little run-in not too long ago, and she’s still recovering. She will want me to stay nice and safe.”
“Have you explained everything to her?”
“Not exactly.”
“Try it. She might surprise you.”
* * *
“I think you should fuck the shit out of him.” Caroline drained her third glass of wine and peered over the rim at Piper, her eyebrows up at her hairline. “What? Too much?”
“Caroline Elizabeth Stratton!” Piper belly-laughed. “I cannot believe that just came out of your proper Southern mouth! I’m totally aghast!” She really wasn’t. Piper loved Caroline’s new confidence. She’d like to take credit for her growth, but really, it was thanks to her husband, Jace. That man would do anything for her, and Caroline had finally accepted that.
Caroline set her glass down and smiled like a shrew. They were in Piper’s kitchen for a change, the breakfast nook, to be exact. “You are not even a little aghast,” Caroline replied. “You love this new side of me. But let’s get back to the real issue here, because I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that you haven’t had an orgasm in six months! And this is the first I’m hearing about it! What the hell, Piper? I thought we shared everything now. I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re the one who’s responsible for me being in this lifestyle at all, which has been less than six months. You sat in my kitchen and painted this fantastical picture of raw carnal pleasure, delights around every corner, and you’re not even living it! What a farce!”
Piper didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, she swirled the wine in her glass. The ruby liquid arced close to the rim, leaving behind a thin film. This was one of her favorite wines. A Cabernet mix. She saved the good stuff for her nights with Caroline. They usually met at Caroline’s because she worked from home and it was easy for her to host. But Michael was out of town, and Piper had taken a rare day off from her hectic job at the ad agency and had made them a bunch of their favorite foods, including guacamole, which Caroline was currently munching on. Piper set her glass down and rested her arms on the table. “I couldn’t tell you before because it’s embarrassing. I used to be the orgasm queen. I could come in three minutes flat, now, zilch, nada, nothing. Telling you I was failing in the sex department when you were all hopped up on it all wasn’t going to happen. I don’t do Debbie Downer. I’m Debbie Upper. You should know that by now.”
Caroline leaned over the table, chip in one hand and a recently refilled wine glass in the other. “Well, we’re going to fix your sex slump. You just have to leave it to me. That’s why I’m advocating a lot of fucking. And if it’s not with Michael, then why not someone else?” She dipped the chip and popped it into her mouth. “Mm, this is delicious, by the way. I’m thinking we should’ve had margaritas instead of wine.”
Piper ignored what Caroline had just said about swapping partners, because she knew her pal was on her way to drunk, which was the end goal of these meetings. “I didn’t serve margaritas because the last time you had tequila, the night ended with Emma and Pete and a lot of car sex. Didn’t want to give you nightmares.” Piper grinned at her friend, trying to get a rise out of her, which was usually a piece of cake.
Caroline swished her hand in dismissal. “That wouldn’t have been a trigger. Now, if you’d had a revolving bed in your kitchen, that would’ve put me over the edge.” Caroline was referring to Emma and Pete’s basement, nicknamed the Pleasure Paradise. A place Piper hadn’t been in over a year. “No, I’m just kidding.” Caroline dipped another chip. “I’m over it, I swear.”
Piper snorted. “You are so not over it. You watch that video like it’s going out of style, but I also know you’re not ready to go back for another try with the Slaters.”
Caroline stuck out her chin. “I don’t know about that. Sometimes I think about it. Not necessarily the Slaters, but maybe another couple. But things are going so well at home, I don’t want to jinx it.”
“Oh, God.” Piper rested her head in her hands, peeking up at her friend between splayed fingers. “Do I have to sit here and listen to how talented Jace’s cock is? Again? That was so last week.” Secretly, Piper loved hearing about Caroline’s successful sex life. And it did sound like Jason Stratton had a magical cock. He just had to stick it in, tell Caroline some made-up story about guys licking her tits and fucking her from behind, and she exploded. Every single time.
If only it could be that easy for everyone, Piper mused.
“Oh, he is talented,” Caroline agreed, nodding. “Did I tell you he loves our Thursday night get-togethers? He calls them Thumpin’ Thursdays, ’cause after you and I talk about sex for five or six hours, I’m so horny I’m crawling out of my skin. When I get home, he’s all over me.”
Piper chortled. “Now that’s funny. Michael refers to them as Tryin’ Hard Thursdays. Not exactly the same thing.” Piper was thoughtful while she picked up a chip. Her husband was a saint, he really was. He was tall, chiseled, and ridiculously handsome. He could’ve easily had a modeling career, but instead he went to law school. Now he was in line to become partner at a major law firm in town.
She was beyond proud of him.
He was her dream guy, and they’d fallen for each other in what felt like an instant. They’d been like frantic rabbits in the sack for the entire four years they dated.
Then they’d gotten married.
About a year later, their sex life lagged a bit. No big deal. Then they’d discovered an über turn-on in the form of Michael flirting with other women. Then whammo! They’d found themselves in an extracurricular lifestyle.
On some days, Piper had trouble connecting all the dots.
In the beginning, she had liked seeing Michael with other women. It’d been explosive—new and exciting. But most of that luster had worn off. What was left was a sexual void, for lack of a better term. Marianne thought it was some sort of displacement of guilt.
But Piper knew better.
She didn’t internalize guilt like that. She never had. She was the opposite of Caroline when it came to that. Piper had never cared what the world thought of her. No, it was more like fatigue. Like she’d been eating the same cracker for nine years straight, and now she was so sick of that fucking cracker, every time she thought about eating it, she felt nauseated.
What she really wanted was a cookie. With lots of chocolate chips.
“Well, Tyrin’ Hard Thursdays is not the worst thing in the world,” Caroline said. “You are trying hard. That’s one of the reasons we do this.” Caroline gestured between them. “Two sexual deviants eating chips and guac can solve a lot of the world’s issues. But in order to solve your issues, we’re going to need to get to the bottom of the well, so to speak. Catch my drift?”
“Hell no. What drift?” Piper laughed. “You’re talking nonsense. It’s like trying to decipher Morse code in Spanish.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny. What I mean is, you’re not being honest with me or yourself.” Caroline picked up her wine glass. “The bottom of the well is where your issues lie, and we have to haul up the water in order to find them. See?”