Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
more.Mia: *winking emoji* I think we should start a sex bucket list. Write everything down that you want to do or learn.
Brooks: Yeah, let’s do that, back to the masturbation thing. What’s it feel like?
Mia: Please tell me you’ve done it before…
Brooks: Rubbed it raw.
Mia: Then you know.
Brooks: Great, now I have a boner.
Mia: Stay behind the bar, no one will know. *winking emoji*
Brooks: I’m going to get you back for this, you know that right?
Mia: I’ll be waiting. By the way… you fail at sexting.
Brooks: Add it to the bucket list.
The rest of my afternoon consists of laundry, cleaning, and painting the day away. I love my days off. Sitting in a smoke-filled room, getting high, watching the bristle of my paintbrush drag its way across a canvas, covering it in dark colors. The blue paint Brooks had picked out at the store sits on my art stand. This piece is for him. It’s still dark. Still black with a pop of blue.
I swirl the paint on the canvas, making shapes and patterns in a random way, a never-ending line. Each line paints a story—something foreboding, something light, something welcoming. It all depends on the shade and the thickness.
I haven’t noticed the time until I hear the lock on the front door click and look over to see Brooks walk through. My eyes fall to the window, noting the sky has turned dark, and it looks like rain is coming. It’s amazing how I can get lost in my art. Lost in the magic of creating.
Finding Brooks again, I openly ogle him. He looks good in his black tee-shirt and tight jeans. It doesn’t show off his package as well as my favorite pair of his grey sweatpants, but I have a vivid imagination even if I can’t see it.
“Hey, roomie.” He smiles at me, that panty-melting fuck-me smile.
“Hey, Brooks.”
“Why does it look like a cloud in here?”
“I was smoking…” I look away, not wanting to see the judgmental look that most people give me when they find out I smoke weed.
He nods. “Oh, what’s it like?”
My eyes widen as I take in his question. “What’s what like?”
“Smoking weed.”
“Oh, it’s kinda hard to explain unless you do it.”
“Okay.”
“You wanna try it?” I say, offering him the joint, but he shakes his head.
“Um… maybe. Not today though. I want to get into this sex bucket list you talked about earlier. By the way… not cool giving me a boner at work.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Hey, is that my painting?” He moves around me to take a look at the canvas I’ve been working on this afternoon.
“Yeah, I started it today. It’s not finished yet. I’m not exactly sure where to go with it.”
“Well, it looks great so far.”
“Brooks…”
“You are damn good, Mia. Accept it.”
One single nod. That’s all I give him. Images of what Zara and I talked about earlier this afternoon flash through my mind, and heat seeps into my cheeks. He’s here now. If I want to try things, we can. He’s open to it, but a part of me still says they’re sex lessons, so I have to treat them as such.
Scheduled. Bucket list. And when the bucket list is checked off, it’s done. He’ll go on to find someone else, and I’ll keep on seeing other guys.
“Alright, let’s grab some food before we get into this. I’m starving.”
“Tacos from El Famoso?”
“You read my mind.”
Half an hour later we’re sitting on the couch, chowing down on tacos, when Brooks speaks up. “I always forget how good these are…”
“Best stoner food ever.”
“Stoner food?”
“Yeah, smoking gives people the munchies. Makes you so freaking hungry you can’t handle it.”
“Huh.”
“I’m gonna grab a drink, you want something?”
“Yep, I want a blowjob.” His eyes sparkle with mischief. My brain takes me on a flashback to the first night I trained Brooks, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips.
“Ha, do you remember that first night?”
A blush creeps up his face in embarrassment. “How could I forget?” He shakes his head and laughs.
“I’ll make you one.”
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three breaths.
What the hell is he doing to me?
For the first time in my life, I’m sitting and talking with a man I don’t just want to have sex with and it feels weird. I mean… I want to have sex with him, but I also enjoy the talking. Finishing making our drinks, I pick them up and walk back out to the living room, noticing that Brooks has changed into my favorite grey sweatpants, and his dick print is on full display.
Damn, that’s a nice dick.
“You changed?”
“Yeah, figured I wanted to be a little more comfortable.”
“Worried your pants may get too tight if you get another boner?” A smile tears across my cheeks, and I shoot him a wink.
He shrugs in a so-what pose.
Handing him the drink, I remember we’ll need something to write on. “Let me grab a pen and paper. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
I return a few seconds later, pen and paper in hand. Ready to make this sex bucket list.
“Okay, before we start making a list. I need to know what you’ve done already. Is there a certain point we need to start, or are we starting at the very beginning?”
“Well…” He looks down as he twiddles his fingers.
“Wait, you haven’t done anything?”
He lifts up his left hand. “Nope. I have an active imagination, but that’s about it. Well, unless you include the shower stuff the other day.”
“Seriously?” I ask exasperatedly. Surely he’s joking…
He shakes his head. “I already told you. Wasn’t exactly into anyone, and if you had those thoughts you had to follow through with an agreement and marry her. There was no fooling around.”
“Okay, then.” My heart is doing pitter-patters thinking about what those words mean. He hasn’t wanted to do anything with someone from his hometown, but he wants me to teach him.
Me. Non-relationship, total hookup queen.
I push the thought away and shake my head.
You don’t believe in love. This is simply sex