“Yes…” I say cautiously. I feel like this is a trap. A ploy to get me to admit something I don’t want to admit. “And you want to do it again?” “I do. Casually. Like what we were going to do before.” “What do I get out of it?” I ask, and she lifts an eyebrow. “Is sex with me not enough?” “It is.” I clear my throat. The cafe feels a hundred degrees warmer than it did twenty minutes ago. “What do you get out of this?” “Orgasms with someone who understands my schedule and doesn’t expect me to call every night.” “How often?” “Whenever we want.”
