Chapter Eight — Alex
As soon as I sit down, the man on the other side of the booth starts talking.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to start with some questions.”
“Go ahead,” I say.
“Excellent.”
This man, unlike the first, doesn’t have a southern accent, but his voice is deep and gruff. Maybe he’s a carpenter or a construction worker, I think to myself.
“Now, tell me if I’m wrong, but I’m under the impression that this was your idea. Is that correct?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“This entire thing.”
“What?” I ask. “Like, everyone being at the church?”
“I didn’t come up with the church idea.”
“I understand,” he says. “But you set the wheels in motion. You made the initial request. Or is that not correct?”
“That’s correct,” I say.
“I see,” he says. “So here’s my question: why don’t you just ask for what you want?”
“For what?” I ask.
“Why make up an excuse?”
Oh, I think to myself. I guess Callum clued these men in a little bit about the context leading up to this.
“Well—” I pause. I’m not actually sure how to answer that.
“I could take a guess if that helps,” he says.
“Please,” I say.
“You don’t feel comfortable asking for what you want,” he says. “Maybe you’re embarrassed. Maybe you’ve been conditioned to think that your pleasure isn’t important. So you hedge. You never just come right out and ask for what you want. Is that correct?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess it kind of is,” I say.
“Got it,” he says. “Give me a second.”
He pauses, and his side of the booth opens. I can’t see his face, but light streams in.
“I think we’re good,” he says to Callum. “I’m ready to propose my solution.”
“Already?” Callum responds.
“Yes,” the man says.
“Okay,” Callum says.
The man closes the booth door and turns back to me.
“You’re already done?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “I had a hypothesis, and I was correct.”
“Okay. Well, what is it?”
“Like many other women, you don’t know how to ask for what you want. And I’m not saying that’s your fault, but it makes things more difficult for everyone because then you have to ask for things in a roundabout way. It makes things complicated. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I guess,” I say.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you were just straightforward?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say.
“So why aren’t you?”
I pause. “I don’t know.”
“Let me take another guess,” he says. “It’s because you feel bad, right? Maybe guilty. You don’t feel entitled.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s right,” I say.
“Exactly. So, as your penance, what I’m going to propose is that for the five minutes we have together,” he says, “I’m just going to focus on your pleasure exclusively.
You’re not allowed to think of anything else or say anything else.
In fact, I don’t want to hear a peep out of you unless you’re moaning or saying the word ‘red.’ Understood? ”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“For five minutes, you’re gonna be completely selfish. Does that make sense?”
I nod.
“So, do you accept?”
“Yes,” I blurt out. I don’t even realize I’ve said yes until I hear the words leaving my mouth.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now come over and join me.”