The Sex Question (8.20.12/Story 6)

Jason went for it, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she smiled.

“Do you use me for sex?”

Do I use you for sex? You wish I used you for sex. The sex is good, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve had better without the headaches you cause me. I’m actually insulted by your question. Had you asked if I used you for your money, I could understand that, because sometimes I do. I also use you for your apartment when I need to escape my roommate, and your car since I don’t drive. I use you to make me laugh, to keep me company; I use you when I need a warm body to lie next to. I use you to fix my computer and various other electronics in my house. I use you as my date when I need one; I use you to massage my feet and my back. I use you to pull my hair, suck my toes, and nibble my thighs (sex related, but not sex, not really). I use your ear when I’m upset and need to vent. I use you to run errands for me, etc., etc., etc. Yes, I use you, for many things, but for sex? You struck out on that one. Wrong question completely. Any woman can go out and find herself some carefree, no-strings-attached, dirty, unemotional sex with a caveman who wants to be used, and not have to deal with anyone’s feelings or silly ass questions. And the caveman would know to just enjoy the fucking and not bog down the whole experience with a question that has insecure written all over it in neon flashing lights. When you don’t know  when you’ll see someone again, or what they do when you’re not around; and when you do see them it’s just for sex, that’s a relationship of mutual sexual usage, which is usually fun, but we don’t have that.  So please, don’t lose your cool because I like sex and I like it often. I’m enjoying myself. Don’t ruin a good thing.

Shay watched Jason as he slid down toward the edge of her bed to collect his clothes off the bedroom floor. She loved watching him move—six feet tall, lean build with thin muscles, and skin the color of freshly ground cocoa. He hopped a little as he pulled up his denim jeans; Shay watched the workings of his back while he struggled to get his head through the top of his sweatshirt. She couldn’t help but picture a well oiled, finely tuned machine working in perfect harmony underneath his dark chocolate skin.

Jason slowly turned around and worked his eyes up from the bottom of her sun-bronzed feet with her red toenails, passed the silhouette of her bare body, to the warm smile planted on her face as she sat at the top of her bed, with her back against the wall.

Jason went for it, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she smiled.

“Do you use me for sex?”

Shay paused, then slowly stood up in the bed and walked over to Jason and positioned herself in front of him. The support of the bed added six inches to her height over his. She grabbed his face with both of her hands, stared into his eyes before she closed her own, and kissed his lips. She placed his arms around her waist and put her arms over his shoulders and pulled him into her.

“No,” she whispered in his ear.



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