Chapter Three
. . .
I’ve been living Dickshank Redemption.
“What do you mean you humped a tree?”
My sister and I are out by the pool, breakfast done and dusted, as I recount all the ways I’m having a hard reentry to life.
“You heard me, Sloane. There’s no misunderstanding that.”
Moon gasps because I only call her by her real name when I’m mad at her.
“Okay.” She holds up her tiger’s eye. “That’s a lot of hateful energy. I said I was sorry for sending Wells. Sheesh. It’s just a little hair. And ‘sensitive areas’ could mean your armpits or a mustache.”
I turn to look at my sister’s face, keeping a deadpan expression on mine. “Neither of those options is any better, Suhloannn.”
“Oh, my god. You’re so—”
I cut her off before she adds uptight. “Don’t say it.”
She lifts her hands in surrender. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to say you’re grumpy because you’re in pain.”
As she mentions the pain, I adjust the makeshift ice packs that are currently under each of my ass cheeks.
I thought sleeping off my humiliation would mean it was left in the past, but apparently, that sentiment decided to reinvent itself as well and follow me into today.
If I could blame my sister for this, I would, but neither of us knew that salt water after hair removal would make me feel like a thousand bees had stung me.
We were also unaware that chlorine would make it worse, which is why I ran straight from the beach to the pool for relief, only to now be dry and seated on ice.
I should’ve done it last night instead of hiding under my blanket, painfully reliving Wells finding me.
I groan and roll my eyes. “It’s just, and not to be mean, but he couldn’t have been less attractive? You had to send the David, for the love of god, to give me hair cream for my ass.”
She laughs. “Oh, so you’re mad because you made a fool of yourself in front of a hottie. Not because I sent someone other than myself.”
“Uh, yes. And worse, he knows that I was staring at those two beach lifeguards and has probably put together that I was hoping to see their…” I emphasize my meaning by dipping my head and opening my eyes wide.
“Dicks?” Moon fills in.
“Shhh,” I hiss, looking around. “People could hear.”
By people, I mean other women. Some are lying on pool chairs, enjoying the late morning, and others are playing in the pool.
They were all smart enough to handle the grooming pre-trip.
“What are you shushing me for?” she tosses back. “You think anyone here is worried about the word dick? Babes, your chakras are so repressed.”
“What?”
“You need motherwort. It helps tap into the power of the pussy. Gives you courage and heals inner wounds.”
“Please never say those words again. I don’t want any kind of wort.” My chuckle turns to a wince as I twist on the ice. “I just need to get to the good parts of reinvention, stat.”
Moon narrows her eyes on me like she’s pondering something, and it makes me nervous.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her smile grows. “Nothing. I’m just thinking about how funny your affliction is.”
“My affliction?”
“Yeah.” She reaches out and pokes my side. “Sex. How long has it been? A year?”
“Stop,” I laugh and roll my eyes. “I don’t have a sex affliction.”
“Lies. You’re basically prepubescent hormones. How long?”
I scowl. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy. I’m not counting.”
“Worst liar on the planet.”
“Shut up,” I throw out while lowering my sunglasses and staring straight ahead.
Her eyes haven’t left my profile as she replies, “Interesting… PS: What you haven’t said is that I’m wrong.”
That’s because she’s not wrong.
Silence bleeds out between us like a standoff as goose bumps crawl up my neck. Because her stare is piercing. But I’m not answering. She can’t make me.
More silence.
God, she’s so obnoxious. This won’t work. She can’t just stare me into submission.
I swallow, while frowning, and I can feel her smile. She’s not going to break me. She can’t break me.
“Fine,” I groan and look at her. “You’re wrong. Happy? Now, stop staring at me, creepo.”
But all she does is raise a brow. My shoulders sag defeatedly before I motion with my head for her to come closer. Sisters just have a way of getting what they want.
Moon darts up, her hands gripping the side of my lounge chair as she leans in.
“So it’s been a little bit more than a year,” I whisper.
There’s a sharp intake of breath from her, but I give her one hard blink that she returns a nod to before I continue.
“We hadn’t actually done it for like six months prior to Jeffrey telling me about Poppy.
So eighteen months, two weeks, and three days.
Not that I’m counting. But I could give you hours, minutes, seconds. ”
Moon’s hand comes to her chest like she’s having a heart attack, and I nod.
“Yeah, imagine how I feel. It’s been torture. This is the worst part about my divorce. I’m in my prime, but Jeffrey was all ‘I deserve to be happy.’ Fuckwit, I deserve to be in a sex coma, so I guess we’re all miserable.”
She finger snaps praise like I’m on an open mic, spitting spoken word.
“Moon, I hit forty, and it was like my body went into overdrive. But I was married to the fuddiest of duddies, and now that I’m free, all I want is sex.
All the sex. Any kind as long as it’s the opposite of what I had.
I want to go wild. I saw a photo of the ocean the other day, and the caption said, ‘This and getting your back blown out.’ I don’t even know what that means, but my body immediately said yes.
I want that. Blow out my back. God, I just want a man to devour me until I don’t know my name. I’ve been deprived my whole life.”
Moon shrieks, making me smack her shoulder as she speaks, “I thought you had sex before Jeff?”
I shake my head. “I lied. You were cooler than me, and I wanted to be the big sister who gave you advice. I was checking out medical books from the library to answer your questions. You’re the whole reason I know about tantric sex. I never experienced it.”
“Oh my god.” She covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs and mumbles, “I’m not laughing at you. I swear. You’ve just been in a prison of your own making.”
“Yeah. I’ve been living Dickshank Redemption, and now I’m free. To be honest, I’d happily let Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman run a train on me at their current ages.”
We start to laugh, the kind of maniacal, hands on each other, falling over kind that refreshes your soul and lets it all out. Because it feels good to unload my truth.
Hi, I’m Margot, and I’ve never had good sex.
“Whoo,” I let out on a heavy exhale, shaking out my hands, my smile beaming. “That felt good.”
Moon takes my hands and holds them gently. “Of course it did. You needed the release. Also, now I get why you humped an olive tree.”
I jerk my hands away, fake-annoyed by her. “I wasn’t humping the tree. I fell on it in a humping motion.”
Moon laughs. “Either way, your path is clear to me. We have ten days to get you laid. Like a lot.”
I chuckle. “I’m Ocean’s Eleven kind of in, but I feel like I need to get laid before I get laid…you know what I mean? I’m basically a forty-year-old virgin. I’ve never even given a…”
“A what?”
Blow job, I mouth.
“Never?”
I shake my head.
“Wait. Did he?” She points to her crotch.
I shake my head again. “No, he said it wasn’t something he was interested in. Described it as dirty. So I wasn’t doing it if he wasn’t doing it.”
“You know, women used to kill their husbands. You could’ve been free years ago.”
Another laugh erupts from my chest as I swat at her. “Stop it. Regardless, I don’t think any guy I pick up at a bar is going to want to take it slow and teach me what I don’t know. Even if they did, it’s so embarrassing.”
Her brows shoot up. “What if you start with a woman? That’s something you’ve never done. And I know this chick who does Reiki. Gorgeous. Women are incredible lovers. I highly recommend. Scottie and I often welcome a third. She really loves to peg him. It’s a very erotic experience.”
My sister is an ethereal creature. And I’m reminded that she’ll always be cooler than me in this moment because no part of me could possibly go from never having oral sex to finding a third to peg on the first date. I want it all, but maybe in small doses first.
“You know, I’ve never wanted to know less about Scottie.
Also, as you know, sexuality is not a choice.
If it were, I would cut off all my nails so every finger would be useful.
” She gives me a proud look, but only because I’m regurgitating something I learned from my nail lady.
“Sadly, I am attracted only to men. It’s a real bummer. ”
She lies back in the lounge chair again, pulling her sunglasses down from the top of her purple hair.
“You know what? Divorced you is funnier than the married you.”
I grin. “Silver linings.”
A comfortable silence bleeds out between us as I let the vitamin D absorb into my skin. These ice packs are actually nice. They’re keeping me cool in the heat. But before the mood gets too quiet, Moon interjects.
“What about a sex worker? You could hire someone to teach you the ropes.”
I’m about to dismiss—no, consider—the idea when music begins to play around the pool deck and a tray of champagne is suddenly by my side.
“What is happening?” I smile, looking at my sister.
She giggles. “It’s time for mimosas. I gave you an itinerary.”
Do I tell her I haven’t even looked at it? No.
There’s a smile on my face as I accept a bubbly flute, cheersing with my sister. Until just as I find myself mid-sip, my eyes lock on a sexy mirage. It has to be, or my eyes are betraying me.
“Holy shit,” I choke out because three hot, muscle-filled, red-trunk-wearing mirages are coming straight for us.