“What it feels like to want her so bad you can’t wait to get home and fuck the shit out of me.”

That does it for both of us. We come, shuddering, muffling our cries into one another’s skin.

Thinking of Jourdan.

Book Two: Nadia

curious

I’m often distracted in meetings.

My department head, Thomas, enjoys the sound of his voice so much that it seems like every week, he schedules a series of meetings designed to waste hours of my busiest, most productive days just so he has a forum to talk about, around, and through things that could have been an email or a memo or shared with his therapist. So, yes, I usually multitask through every meeting, but I make sure to record each of them for later listening anyway, to catch the tidbits of actionable items I might have missed while zoned out. And thank God because there is my regular ‘I have five contracts on my desk ready for review right now’ level of distraction, and then there’s ‘I’m going to meet Jourdan for the first time in thirty-two minutes, and I can’t get a grasp on my emotions about that’ distraction.

On the one hand, I’m excited. Actually, it’s both hands. Ever since I put our afterwork drink into my calendar, it’s like I’ve been holding two bright balls of pure joy in one hand. But I’m also every kind of nervous, and I have been all day. I’ve been so full of the jitters that I actually drank decaf coffee this morning because I couldn’t handle my own excitement plus a caffeine high. That sad cup of coffee was so unlike me that my assistant had asked if I was okay when they brought it to my desk. But that’s a good thing, really. My therapist tells me each week that it’s okay to discover new facets of myself. It’s good to realize that I’m more than I thought I was, different than I assumed I was allowed to be. It’s perfectly fine for me to realize that who I will be doesn’t have to be who I am right now because I’m sure not the same girl I used to be.

The weight and hang of my breasts attests to that if nothing else does.

But this is all a roundabout way of saying that I used to think I was straight. Very straight. Wilding out freshman year with the boys’ soccer team straight. Drinking my husband’s come like a daily protein shake straight. Every woman fantasizes about being with a girl when they’re high and feeling themselves, but that doesn’t mean anything straight. Now, I’m not so sure.

The problem is — the thing that’s had me excited and nervous all day — is that I don’t really know.