Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
"Well, uh…" All the lightness falls from Ivy's face. The mood in the room shifts. The sunshine turns to storm clouds. "I'm divorced. Things were difficult for a while. A long time. I'm not sure what finally got me to say, it's over, but something did. I moved out. We saw an arbiter. It's been official for about six months and I'm still…"
"You're not ready," Sasha says.
She nods. "I've tried to do the casual thing, but it hasn't worked well. I didn't feel safe with most of the guys I went on dates with. I still had sex with one of them, but it was… not great."
Sasha nods. "Men never get it. How much power they have over us, physically. And god knows most men don't know what sort of sex a woman actually wants. The great kissing, the anticipation, the cunnilingus. They seem to think we're ready as soon as they take off their clothes and we'll come from five minutes of dick. Not that I want ten minutes. Enough is enough already." Sasha shakes her head. "I guess it's a good thing for you, Rome. Or you'd be out of a job."
"I only have a job because most men are bad at sex?" I ask.
"Yes," Sasha says. “Of course. That's why you have a job."
"Do you have a job because most women are bad at sex?" My voice rises, despite my better judgment. This isn't a logical argument. And it's not one I ever win. Sasha and I have been over this a billion times. Neither of us ever backs down.
"No. I have a job because men treat most women like sex workers, and I was smart enough to demand money for it." Sasha folds her arms, holding firm. "Back me up, Ivy."
"I think we're getting off track," Ivy says.
"You do sound like a therapist!" Sasha exclaims.
"Do you two have this argument a lot?" Ivy asks.
Sasha and I trade a knowing look. We do have this argument a lot. Which is silly. Why am I standing up for men, in general? What do I know about the way other men fuck women?
"He won't give any ground," Sasha says.
"Why does that frustrate you?" Ivy asks.
"He's invalidating my experiences," Sasha says. "And the women I know, too. The experience of being a woman. It's scary sometimes. And it's frustrating, going into sex with a new guy knowing he probably won't have a clue what sort of sex I like. Knowing he's going to expect the sex he likes. Knowing he thinks that's the sex I like too, even though he doesn't ask."
"You think all that?" I ask. Have I really been so firm in my position I haven’t given her space to express herself? Have I acted like my fucking brother, sure I’m always right, even about what’s best for other people?
"You never ask," Sasha says.
"I'm not trying to invalidate your experiences," I say. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not trying to say you're a bad lay, either. Or that you don't work hard at what you do. Only that there's an imbalance here," Sasha says.
I nod. "I should acknowledge that, but there are other imbalances between us. We don't talk about those."
"We could," she says.
"Okay," I say.
Sasha's composure breaks. Her expression softens. She moves off the couch and throws her arms around me. Then around Ivy. "Wow, you're good at this."
Ivy laughs. "No. That was you two. Most couples argue for three straight sessions before they see each other's point of view." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "That's why I stopped seeing couples. I couldn't deal with the constant tension."
"That and the divorce," Sasha says, matter-of-factly. No one could accuse her of using kid gloves. "You probably didn't love counseling couples while your marriage was crumbling."
I shoot Sasha a don't look.
But Ivy shakes her head. "No. She's right." Ivy smooths her slacks. She studies her thumb for a long moment, then she looks to Sasha, connecting with her. "I had a lot of countertransference."
"You mean how people fall in love with their therapists?" Sasha asks.
Ivy nods. "Only on the therapist's end. " Her eyes go to her bare left hand. She takes a minute to find the words to explain. "So, uh, back to the question of how long we’ve been together… If we talk about my divorce, I don't want anyone to think we had overlap. I don't want people to whisper about me that way."
"Of course," I say.
"We could say three months," Ivy says. "But no faster."
"And you two don't know a lot about each other," Sasha says. "You're more plausible as a new couple. Though you should really be touching more."
Ivy's cheeks flush. "You're right. It will help sell the ruse." Ivy turns to me. "Should we start now?"
"Yes," Sasha says. "Right now. Sit like you're together. Not like you, what, had sex once?"