I stare at the phone and lie back in bed.
Just staring.
Waiting.
I spy on a few Facebook profiles.
Still waiting.
Paint my nails emerald green.
Still waiting.
I hear Ana opening the fridge so I scamper out into the kitchen, looking for a distraction.
“Busy writing?” she asks me before pulling out a jar of mayonnaise and closing the fridge door with her ass. I watch, mystified, as she unscrews the lid and then dips a spoon inside of the jar. She leans back against the counter, that dollop of mayo resting in the spoon, her dark purple gel nails like dinosaur claws.
God, I hope she doesn’t eat that.
“Uh, no,” I say. “I’m having a hard time concentrating.”
“It’s all that penis you’re getting,” she says, the spoon going to her other hand.
“Cock,” I tell her. “It’s always cock. Maybe dick. Never penis unless you’re talking about someone related.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Why would you talk about the penis of someone you’re related to?”
“I have no idea but from now on its cock.”
She shrugs. “I can deal with cock. I can deal with a lot of cock. This you know.” I watch as she opens her palm and plops the spoonful of mayo into it. She puts the spoon down and starts rubbing her hands together, like she’s putting on hand cream.
“What,” I start, pointing at her, “uh, what?”
“What?”
I nod at her mayo hands. “What are you doing?” I hiss.
She looks down and grins. “Oh, you’ve never seen this before?” she asks, seeming pleased. She then starts rubbing her mayo-covered hands over her fucking face. “It’s great for your skin.”
I raise my brow. “Yeah. I’m sure GMO-filled canola oil does as much good for your face as it does your immune system.”
She makes a dismissive sound. “My grandmother used to rub fresh goat’s milk all over her face and she had skin like a baby.”
I don’t bother pointing out that fresh goat’s milk and canola oil is like comparing apples and poisonous oranges and instead I try not to stare at her in revulsion as her face turns an oily white. It must be the erotica writer in me because all I can think about is how much it looks like an epic cum shot. Cream pies all over the place.
“Well tell me how I can help you,” Ana says as she washes her hands in the sink. “Need me to be firm with you, like a dictator? I have experience.”
I shake my head, unable to take her seriously as a dictator with a face full of mayonnaise and/or cum. “No that’s okay. Actually I thought I might go away for the weekend, you know, for inspiration.”
“Oh yes? Where?” She frowns quickly, looking hurt. “Am I too much of a pain?”
“No, no,” I assure her, even though she is around an awful lot now that her makeup schooling is over. “It’s not you. I just can’t think. I can’t concentrate and I’d rather be doing everything else except writing. Procrastination is at an all-time high.”
“And you’re sure it’s not me?”
“Nooooo,” I reassure her. “My parents have a cabin on Salt Spring Island, just a thirty-five minute ferry ride from Swartz Bay. It’s small, cute, with a little wood stove and a big deck overlooking the ocean. It will do me some good. Recharge the batteries.”
“So you’re going all alone…”
“Well…,” I say slowly, studying the linoleum pattern on the floor. “I may have just invited Blake.”
A lengthy pause falls over us. She takes a moment to think that over, pursing her lips. “I see,” she eventually says, her expression growing disarmingly suspicious.
Don’t take the bait.
“Interesting.”
Don’t do it Amanda. You don’t want to hear it.
But I can’t help myself. “Why, why is it interesting?”
Damn it.
She shrugs. “I may not know many things but I know things about people, particularly men.”
“Do tell.”
“This isn’t about writing.”
“It is!” I exclaim. “A change of scenery, fresh air, all of that will be good for me!”
She wags her pointed nail at me. “You do not jet off to some island somewhere with another man if you’re not interested in him.”
“Hey, it’s not like I’m not interested at all. I mean…I’m only human.”
“Mmmhmmm.”
“I mean,” I say and bite my lip, wondering how much I should say, “the sex is just…incredible.”
Her eyes roll to the ceiling. “I know, I live here, remember?”
I ignore the heat in my cheeks. “But just because I like to have sex with Blake doesn’t mean I like him. More than a friend. I mean, I guess it is more than a friend. But we’re fuck buddies and that’s pretty much it. You know. A fuckboy, like Rio would say.”
“Which makes things kind of complicated when you go away together, don’t you think?”
Shit. Will this make things complicated? Maybe I’m scaring him off. Maybe he won’t want to write with me anymore…or have sex. I’m not sure I could survive without either.
Then again, the other week we both agreed to get tested for STDs. I mean, that’s a pretty big commitment in its own way. It said we weren’t sleeping with anyone else. And luckily, the tests came back negative. I’ve been on the pill forever, so it’s just been so much easier and sex has gotten that much better. There’s nothing like the feel of his raw, hard cock inside me.