Chapter 5
The world always looked brighter with a few days between Cami and her failed attempts at orgasms. Of course, it was summertime in California, so the world was usually pretty bright.
Her search on Ancestry had yielded no new information, but that wasn’t surprising.
She hadn’t found anything new since she’d arrived in Santa Monica a year ago.
Ancestry records were only viewable with a paid account, which she couldn’t afford, but she could look at other peoples’ trees and see bits and pieces of info; enough to know that no one had added anything about her father.
He’d been the whole reason she’d come to Santa Monica in the first place, and the only thing she’d learned about the man was that he no longer lived at the address he’d had in high school.
It was looking like her search for her father was going to be just as futile as her search for orgasms.
But at least the search for her father wasn’t floundering because there was something wrong with her. It was just hard to find someone who didn’t want to be found.
When her shift at the store ended, it was early afternoon, and the thought of returning to her little apartment and the pile of textbooks waiting for her made her skin itch.
The sun shone and a light breeze ruffled the leaves of the palms that lined the street along the plaza.
She couldn’t be entirely irresponsible; she did have two chapters to cover for her Javascript class but she could at least get an iced latte and study outside Starbucks.
She exited the store with a wave over her shoulder at her coworker, Tristan, her messenger bag bumping against her hip. She paused to scoop her hair up off her neck into a messy bun, then crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk.
The road outside Paragon Plaza was buzzing with the low hum of car engines, tires crunching on loose gravel, and the thumping beats of some newly released pop song sure to top the summer charts.
Over all of that, she could still pick out the rumbling of a motorcycle before it even turned the corner, and, in spite of herself, glanced to where it would appear.
It rounded the corner onto her street, shiny and black and topped by—wait a minute.
The bike pulled into her parking lot, and she folded her arms across her ribs as it drew to a stop next to her. Des pulled his helmet off and propped it on the handlebars, looking pleased and surprised to find her there.
“Of course you ride a motorcycle,” she said, smiling. He was still smartly dressed in his standard business suit, this one navy blue, the blazer buttoned at his waist. Who rode their motorcycle in a business suit?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His brow furrowed, as though he weren’t sure whether to be amused or offended.
She ignored him. “Aren’t you supposed to have more padding than that?”
“Technically? Yes,” he admitted, finally shutting the bike off and swinging his long leg over the seat to climb off.
It was a smooth, effortless motion. “But I wasn’t going far, just a couple of blocks, and I took it slow.
” He pulled his briefcase from a covered compartment near the back of the bike, and then tossed her a teasing smile.
“I promise not to give myself road rash. Wouldn’t want to mess up my pretty face. ”
“Right,” she agreed, unable to keep a slight edge of sarcasm from leaking into her voice. “Because you have so little else going for you.”
“Why, Cami,” he teased, “it sounds like you think I’m a catch.”
The apples of her cheeks started to heat under his scrutiny, and she looked away, down the street toward the Starbucks.
Breaking eye contact was her favorite way to regain her composure when Des looked at her like that.
Like a trouble-making kid who’d had a terrible great idea and needed an accomplice: hey, Cami, wanna play?
“Lenny’s not in there.” The non-sequitur saved her from having to come up with a smooth detour away from the subject of Des’s pretty face.
He glanced over his shoulder at Sex on the Beach, tucked into the corner of the plaza. “Just Tristan today?”
“It is now. I just finished my shift.”
He turned back to her then, his stormy eyes sliding down her body to rest on the messenger bag at her hip. “And you’re going out?”
She shrugged. “Just to Starbucks.”
“Oh, great!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparking with opportunity. He made a wide, sweeping gesture with his arm as if to say after you. “Let me buy you a coffee.”
“No, thanks. You’ve bought me enough.” She looked away from him again, hoping to avoid whatever expression the reminder brought to his face, but she wasn’t quick enough. He started to move in the direction of Starbucks and she found herself following.
“And yet, you aren’t headed straight back home to take advantage.” He paused, giving her an opening that she didn’t take. Then, he asked softly, just for her ears, “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “It just didn’t work out, okay? I tried, it wasn’t for me.” She was acutely aware of how her voice grew tighter and higher pitched with anxiety the longer she spoke.
Des moved closer and she stopped, took a breath. His nearness was comforting. “You weren’t comfortable with it?” Des surmised as Cami realised he had somehow steered her towards the entrance to the Starbucks.
She carefully lowered her voice to a whisper as they approached the door. “I was. I just—I didn’t—I couldn’t—”
She saw the exact moment he understood what she was trying to say. Recognition flashed across his face, and she waited for a flicker of ridicule or disbelief, but there was none. “You couldn’t come,” was all he said. His tone was soft—not judgmental. He sounded curious.
Hearing him say it out loud had her hand raising to drag across her forehead, scrub over her face, but she could think of nothing to say.
“Okay. Don’t worry. Let’s just get some coffee and we’ll figure this out.” He held the door open for her and gestured for her to head into the Starbucks. The air conditioning washed over her, cooling some of the embarrassment that was surely turning her beet red.
“What are you talking about? It’s a me problem, not a we problem. Also, we’re in Starbucks,” she said, her eyes darting around the coffee shop to see if anyone was listening to their conversation.
“A Starbucks in LA,” he argued. “And I disagree. It was my purchase, I picked it out. If it didn’t work for you, I need to up my game. Why don’t you grab us a table?”
She was only too happy to oblige if it meant getting out of the line of people unable to avoid eavesdropping.
She found a free table that was close enough to the corner for her to pretend they had a little privacy.
She plunked down into one of the chairs, dropping her messenger bag on the tiled floor. So much for her study plans.
Des joined her, holding two iced drinks of some kind, and set one in front of her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it had whipped cream on top, and she wasn’t willing to be picky at the moment. She sucked down two large, sugary gulps.
“Why don’t you tell me what you tried?” he asked. Very matter-of-fact, like he was troubleshooting her laptop.
She blinked, and then, too mortified to be vague, said coolly, “Masturbation, Desmond.”
The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “And did you... make yourself comfortable first? Did everything feel... conducive?”
She huffed. “I’m not painting you a picture, Des.
” If she’d known she was going to have to provide him with detailed product review when she accepted his gift, she never would have taken it.
It was bad enough that she couldn’t get herself off without objectively gorgeous men knowing about it, let alone the rest of the Sunday afternoon Starbucks clientele.
“You don’t have to.” He leaned back, spreading his hands. “As intriguing as the imagery would be, I’m not asking for my own benefit. I just thought maybe I could help. Offer some advice on setup, or maybe recommend a different toy, if that one just didn’t push the right buttons.”
As she considered his words, she surveyed the other customers in the building.
No one appeared to be paying them any attention.
There were three people in line waiting to order, one of whom was wearing airpods to drown out the mellow playlist coming from the corner speakers.
Another person hovered near the pickup counter and picked at a pastry while they waited for their drink.
A few of the other tables were occupied as well, but not by anyone looking their way.
She supposed, as long as they didn’t say anything explicit, Starbucks was as good a place as any.
“It was good. Fine.” Maybe if she pretended she was talking about schoolwork, she wouldn’t blush. She had been coding something and hit a snag. That’s all. “Everything was going fine, until it wasn’t. I don’t think it was the... product.”
It was impressive that he managed to keep a straight face as he mulled this over.
His brow furrowed thoughtfully and he lifted his drink to take a pull from his straw.
That curious little extension of his pupil seemed to darken the silver iris around it as he thought.
Then he set it back down in the ring of condensation that had formed on the table and began to slowly spin the plastic cup in place.
“Were you using any other... enhancements?”
Cami cocked her head, squinting. “Like what? I didn’t light my candles, if that’s what you mean.”
He smiled, but it was friendly, not like he was laughing at her. “I mean the visual kind.”
“Oh, like...” She glanced around them again to ensure no one had tuned in, then leaned forward across the table to close her part of the distance between them, and whispered: “porn?”
The corners of his smile deepened into dimples, and now he was definitely laughing at her. “Yes,” he nodded, “that’s what I mean. Anything like that?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t really like it. It’s very graphic.”
“Not always. Have you tried looking for anything softer? More romantic? It’s out there, if you look.”
She’d watched porn twice in her whole life.
The first time had been before she’d lost her virginity just after high school graduation, when she thought maybe she could pick up some tips and tricks if she saw pros at work.
It had been a slobbery blowjob that involved more of the man thrusting into the woman’s face than the woman actually sucking anything.
Her eyes had been watering, her eyeliner smeared across her cheekbones, and all Cami could think about was how much that poor woman’s throat was going to hurt afterward.
The second time involved actual intercourse, but was similarly rough, with the man jackhammering away at a woman obviously going out of her way to sound eager.
At least then, she could see how both parties involved might find it pleasurable, but she had her doubts that the woman’s extremely vocal orgasm was authentic.
In neither case was she eager to relive the experience of watching while she was trying to achieve orgasm herself.
Her skepticism must have shown on her face, because Des leaned forward and braced his arms on the table. “If you don’t want to sift through it all, I could help. Can I see your phone?”
She hesitated only a moment before she pulled her cell from the side pocket of her messenger bag, unlocked it, and passed it to him.
He fiddled with the buttons along the side for a moment, then tapped away at the screen with his index finger, murmuring, “You have so many apps on your home screen, this is a disaster,” but he was quick to pull the phone toward himself with a grin when she tried to grab it back.
“Just an observation! I’d have thought your phone would be more organized. ”
“Keep your observations to yourself,” she countered.
After a moment, he held her phone back out, but to the side so they could both see the screen. Then he opened her web browser to show her several waiting tabs. There were three, all from the same porn site. It must have been his favorite.
“I’m not going to go into details here for obvious reasons,” he explained, using his fingertip to scroll a bit. “But I’ve got three videos here for you to look at. Maybe one of them will strike your fancy. If not, no harm in trying. But none of them are what I could consider gross.”
Des was handing her porn recommendations. Instead of the usual cheek flush that she was used to, her whole body heated like the blush was full-body. Her clothing felt too hot, and she gripped her sweating drink like a life raft.
“Um.”
“Maybe give it a shot next time you’re in the mood.
” He placed her phone on the table between them and nudged it back to her, then took up his own drink.
He took a long, slow tug off his straw, cheeks hollowing out as he sucked, and she couldn’t help but note the way his throat bobbled as he swallowed.
“Okay,” she said, as though he was offering a Netflix recommendation.
He stood, pushing his chair back as he did. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.” His smile was back, relaxed and unconcerned. “I’ve gotta get back to work. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” He stooped to pick up his briefcase, and then lifted his cup toward her in farewell. The door swung shut behind him.
“What has happened to my life?” Cami asked her porn-filled phone.
ROMANTIC MASSAGE TURNS SEXY, it said.
She turned the screen off, then lifted her drink and pressed the cool plastic against her cheek.
She’d give herself a minute to shake it off, whatever it was, and then she’d study. She was not going to let Des and his orgasm inspo fail her out of college, no matter how much porn he found for her. She might not be able to get off, but she could at least graduate.