Page 3 of For the Love of Art

“I was with Colby last night.” Lianne smiled.

“Again?” I shot her a quizzical look. “I thought you said he was boring.”

“Oh God, watching paint dry is more exciting than talking to him. However, in bed, he is far from boring.”

“I need coffee if this conversation is going to continue.”

I loved Lianne. We had known each other since college and had been inseparable from the day she asked to borrow my notes. Regardless, a second sex story in such a short period of time felt like more than I could handle. I also knew, barring running out of the store, I was about to hear every little detail.

“Seriously, Isla, the man is amazing,” Lianne pressed her hands into the counter and stared out into the shop dreamily. “I mean, he knows what he’s doing.”

“Okay, good talk.”

“He touches me in erogenous zones I didn’t even know I had.” She clutched her chest and then looked at me. “Actually, sweetie, I think you could use a turn with him.”

I didn't want coffee anymore. I wanted a toilet to vomit in.

“There is one thing, though.”

Oh God, please let someone walk through the door now.

“He keeps putting a finger in my ass,” Lianne said matter-of-factly. “I don’t get it. When did that become a thing?”

“Forever. It’s always been a thing.” I hated myself for responding.

“Well, look. I told him that if he keeps putting his finger in there, I’m going to break it and any other body part that looks like a finger.”

“Cool. For future, I don’t need to know all that. You can stop at saying he’s good in bed.”

“Why do guys do that?” Lianne asked, ignoring my comment. “What is so appealing about the ass?”

When will I escape this hell?

“Because the ass feels amazing,” Frankie answered, strolling out of the office.

The answer to my plea: not anytime soon.

I placed my tray in the display and slid the door closed. I’d had enough.

“Has anyone gone through that order from yesterday?” I asked. Both Frankie and Lianne shook their heads. “Awesome, I’m on it.”

They barely acknowledged my leaving going back into their debate about whether the ass felt good or weird.

Once safely in the walk-in fridge, I closed my eyes and sighed.

Walking over to the small pile of boxes, I pulled out the packing slip before starting to open the boxes. I worked my way down, checking off the items as I found them. Despite the busy work, my mind wasn’t entirely on the task. While Lianne and Frankie were out there talking about bedroom follies, I wondered if my by-the-book-every-Saturday-night sex life had played a role in the demise of my marriage.

It wasn’t that I was a prude or didn’t like sex. In fact, the image of my hand running over Don’s freckled shoulder as he bit my nipple often ran through my mind causing a stirring low in my belly. We had wonderful sex when we had it, that was. Of course, I had nothing to compare it to, considering I was a virgin when I met him.

I let out a sigh and rested my head against the cool cardboard. I wondered if I’d ever feel that again, that desire for someone’s body that seemed to come so easily to Lianne.

“Isla!” I heard my name muffled outside the door of the cooler.

I stepped out. “Here.”

“We have customers up front and could use some help,” Lianne said.

“Coming.”