Chapter 14
Avery Hunter’s Reporter Notebook: Turns out there is shame in my game.
When he smiled, it took everything in my soul to keep from hopping onto Warren’s lap. Would I like to run away to the circus with him? I’d probably run away to a Walmart with him if he kept smiling at me like that.
Gerald passed out duffel bags to everyone at the table with the Camp Quirkus logo on the side.
They contained our camp uniforms for the week.
At the bottom of the bag were shoes that looked like flat ballet slippers, and since Warren didn’t notice them, I decided to keep quiet about it.
I knew they weren’t for ballet. And if my new husband had an issue flying in a plane, he would really hate what those shoes were for.
We changed into our athletic gear and reassembled in the multipurpose room. Four large blue mats had been dragged into the middle of the room.
“Spread out with your partner, and make sure you have plenty of room,” Gerald instructed.
Each couple stood on a mat. I bounced a few times on the balls of my feet.
The mat was squishy to break a fall but not too squishy to break an ankle.
I peered at Warren wearing long, black yoga pants as if he was the President of Yoga Pants.
No. King of Yoga Pants. He was born for the position.
I barely noticed the tight black T-shirt that stretched over his muscles.
Gerald had to improvise with the remaining clothing sizes since we took the places of another couple.
I was just happy to have some clean underwear, even if it was that barely-there kind that would ride up your ass and give you a papercut between your cheeks.
That stuff was never meant to be worn for long periods.
It was meant to be ripped off by some Viking’s teeth.
Nice, straight white teeth, like Warren had.
I imagined Warren pulling my underwear off with his teeth. He’d probably make me sign a waiver first. I snort-laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Warren turned to me.
“Alright!” Gerald clapped his hands. “Welcome to Acro-Yoga! This is an intimacy exercise that is a cross between Yoga and Twister. Zelda and I will show you the poses, and we ask that you attempt them together. For anyone with back issues—”
“That’s me.” Irv shot up his hand. “Made that shibari class a bit of a challenge.”
Eula blushed beside him.
Gerald smiled at them. “We shall show you modified versions.”
Jack, the air marshal, tugged at the collar of his shirt and rolled his neck. “What’s the intimacy part?”
“Oh, that is the fun stuff,” Zelda said, standing beside Gerald. “Each time you change positions, you each have 30 seconds to share an intimate secret with your spouse.”
“So, like, where I want to take things in the bedroom?” Keegan asked.
“If that’s an intimate secret that you’ve been holding back from your spouse, yes,” Gerald answered.
“As you go through this exercise, you’ll speak your truth.
Some of you may want to use your time to react to what is said.
If the reaction is a truth that bubbles up that you hadn’t shared before, we encourage that.
However, if the reaction comes from a defensive place, we suggest you table that for later. We listen, and we don’t judge.”
Warren raised his hand. “What does that mean?”
“We’re informal here, Warren. No need to raise your hand,” Zelda said.
“But that is a great question and so very emotionally intelligent of you to ask. Most people don’t listen during a conversation.
They’re waiting for their chance to talk.
And if you’re waiting for your chance to talk while developing what you’ll say next, you’re not hearing what is being said. ”
I nodded because that is how it felt to talk to my dad sometimes. Okay, all the time.
“After getting into the pose, you will have 30 seconds to speak your truth. There will be a 30-second pause to give your spouse time to digest what you just said. Then the other will be able to speak, and so forth.” Gerald held out his hand to Zelda.
“Let us demonstrate the first pose, Connected Warrior Two.”
Gerald spread his feet apart on the mat, turned to look over his knee, and held up his hands to his side at shoulder level. Zelda then mirrored the pose and grabbed the hand closest to her.
“Think you can do that?” Zelda asked.
We nodded.
“Okay, let’s see you do it.”
I turned to Warren. He was already moving into the pose with a fluid grace that nearly took my breath away.
“When you said you did yoga, I didn’t realize you yoga’d,” I dropped my voice.
“It is not a verb,” he answered. “I have practiced yoga for many years, yes.”
I hummed my approval at this and mentally tucked away the sexy yoga thoughts that Warren inspired.
Unfortunately, I didn’t yoga, verb or not, and it was difficult to get into the simple pose. “I don’t think I can get this just right,” I whispered to him.
He got out of the pose and maneuvered behind me.
“First, you want to set your feet to have a firm foundation like this.” He tapped my leg with his until I stood wider.
“Slide your foot so that your toes are pointing to that wall. That’s good.
Now, turn toward your feet and bend your knee at a 90-degree angle.
Excellent. Suck in your core.” His hands wrapped around my middle. “Good. Good. Now, raise your arms.”
When he stepped away from me, I felt like whimpering. But I couldn’t argue with the results. I felt strong. Powerful. Like I was the most powerful badass bitch in the world. “I’m doing it!”
“You are! So good,” Warren praised with another dazzling smile. He faced me on the mat, quickly moved into his pose, and grabbed my hand. “Do you want to go first?”
I didn’t, but I knew Warren would struggle with this exercise. “Okay, intimate secret. Um. Well. I’ve never had an orgasm during sex.”
Warren wobbled on his feet. “No orgasms?”
“I didn’t say no orgasms. I said none during sex,” I corrected.
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Now you.”
He blinked a few times and did that nose-breathing thing that he did when I flustered him. I squeezed his hand for encouragement.
“I do not like it when people call me a robot.”
I swallowed and flashed back to our courthouse wedding. Shit.
“Next pose,” Gerald announced.
We came out of our Connected Warrior Two and stood side-by-side.
“This is Double Mountain pose,” Gerald said. “Stand back-to-back with your spouse.” He demonstrated with Zelda.
That one looked simple enough to do. It was standing up straight. I did that and stared expectantly at Warren. “Okay. Come on. Show me what I’m doing wrong. I know you want to.”
He chuckled and moved behind me again. “Tuck in your buttocks and pull your belly button toward your spine.”
His hands felt glorious on me. Was I trying to mess these poses up on purpose? Perhaps.
When he was satisfied that I held the pose correctly, he took his place behind me, our butts and shoulders touching. I felt the slow inhale and exhale before he said, “I am interested in these adult toys we received today. However, I do not know how any of them work.”
I nearly whipped around in disbelief, but I held it together. Listen, and don’t judge.
“You’ve never seen porn?”
“I believe that would be another intimate secret,” Warren answered softly. “But, not really. The most I have seen was the Victoria's Secret catalogs my sisters used to receive at the house growing up.”
The image of a young and proper Warren smuggling soft-core porn into his room for alone time made me smile. No wonder he calls underwear panties.
“Alright,” I said and took a deep breath. “My favorite porn is face-sitting. Where the woman nearly suffocates the man that is eating her out.”
I felt a full-body shudder roll through Warren and realized I probably short-circuited him.
No. No short-circuit. That sounds like I’m calling him a robot again.
Shame flooded my system.
“Next pose,” Gerald called as he clapped for our attention. “Bridge the Dog.”
I watched Gerald and Zelda get into a pose that should not have turned me on, but thinking of Warren hovering over me was sending my hormones into overdrive.
“Avery?” Warren asked. “Would you like to try this one?”
I nodded and lay on the mat, bending my knees and placing my feet flat. Then, I tilted up my hips and relaxed my arms onto the ground. Warren straddled my feet and scanned my body. At first, I thought he would correct my pose, but then I spotted the gleam in his eyes. His pupils were wide.
Viking Warren had returned to the chat.
He bent at the waist and got into the Downward Dog pose, placing his hands on either side of my head. His face was inches from mine, and I caught a whiff of mint and coffee as he breathed into the pose.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Then, it is your turn to go first.”
This position gave me a front-row seat to the package Warren brought to our mostly fake marriage, and I discovered Viking Warren was also happy to see me. Could my talk of face-sitting have turned him on? Let’s see how far that kink went.
“When you wear your black reading glasses and talk waivers and warrants to me, I want to climb on top of your face and have you tell that legal shit to my vagina,” I admitted.
His arms shook, and his eyes widened. His tongue darted out and wet his bottom lip.
Bingo.
“Your turn.” I grinned at him.
“I have been tongue-tied around you since we met, but I have a feeling that if you were to sit on my face, my tongue would not only work hard to please you, but we would not stop until you had your first non-solo orgasm.” His voice suddenly turned gravelly, and I was so turned on I thought his words would set me on fire.
“I love dirty talk,” I whispered.
“Then you shall have it, wife.”
If Gerald hadn’t clapped loudly just then, I would have probably flipped Warren like a cheese omelet and demanded he make good on his dirty promises.
“We’re going to take a break to allow everyone a chance to cool off,” Gerald announced. “Be back here in 15 for a Download Circle.”
I briefly considered dragging Warren back to the cabin for 15 minutes of lady business time but realized he would need more time than that. The man gave everything his whole heart - and tongue - when he got into it.
Then, I remembered. We were here for four more days.
With one bed.
I wasn’t sure my libido could last until lunch, much less four days.