Chapter Two
Sexual Healing & Excuse Me… What??
“You look amazing,” Ben says, his eyes skating down Isla’s body as though she were displayed on a silver platter.
Isla grins. “I know.”
Ben chuckles, a little nervously this time, and opens the passenger door.
Points for chivalry.
She slides herself onto the black leather seat and lets out a contented sigh.
Yep.
It was like butter on her ass.
When they arrive at the restaurant, Ben settles a hand casually against the small of her back as he opens the door, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine.
It’s been a few months since Isla’s last third date. Her body is practically vibrating against his touch.
Ben, however, is unusually quiet.
A man of few words.
Or maybe…
Just nervous.
More so tonight than on their first two dates.
Strange, sure. But not waving-red-flags strange.
No. That’s wasn’t it.
Maybe he was simply picturing their after-dinner plans—with her as dessert.
Isla certainly is.
The hostess leads them to a cozy table tucked beside floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and the Hudson River.
Small talk comes easily once the leggy blonde waitress takes their wine order.
The woman is a complete smoke show. The kind of woman who woke up looking airbrushed.
Ben doesn't even glance twice.
His attention stays exactly where Isla want it.
On her.
Still…
Something feels off.
He laughs in all the right places, responds to her ADHD ramblings, and throws in the occasional “Oh, yea?” or “No way” and asks enough follow-up questions to seem engaged.
But she can feel it.
Something is distracting him.
Isla has always trusted her instincts.
Mostly.
So, when she returns from the restroom and Ben asks if she’d like to go back to his apartment, her shock is genuine.
That’s also when she notices he’s polishing off his second full glass of wine.
Her heart softens.
Poor guy.
He’s just nervous about tonight.
And, in true Isla fashion, the words leave her mouth before her brain has fully processed what she’s actually saying.
“You bet your sweet ass I do.”
Ben’s apartment is only a few minutes from the restaurant.
The anticipation buzzing beneath Isla’s skin makes the drive feel twice as long. She can’t help imagining those arms wrapped around her thighs.
Those lips…
That mouth…
Calm down, girl. You aren’t even in the bedroom yet.
Once inside, Ben heads straight for the bar cart and pours their drinks into crystal tumblers.
They clink glasses.
Isla takes a slow sip of her Manhattan, the warmth sliding pleasantly down her throat.
Ben, meanwhile, throws his entire cocktail back in one gulp.
She raises an eyebrow.
“Thirsty?”
He chuckles nervously, wipes his mouth, gently removes the glass from her hand, and pulls her against him.
His lips find hers.
The kisses is different this time. Less confident. As if he’s rushing.
Isla decides to take the lead.
Her mouth moves with practice confidence, guiding his until he settles into the rhythm.
Mostly.
Still…
She can feel it.
The hesitation.
The uncertainty.
Her kisses deepen, hoping to reassure him.
Relax.
It’s game on.
Ben’s hands slide cautiously down to the curve of her ass.
And what an ass.
She smiles against his mouth, letting out a soft, approving moan as she leans into him.
Finally.
This is more like it.
Then—
He pulls away.
His shyness, while strangely endearing, is becoming impossible to ignore.
Like he isn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin.
Which seems ridiculous considering he looks like The Boy Next Door if The Boy Next Door had an eight-pack and dangerous dimples.
Maybe he doesn’t realize how attractive he is.
Or–
Maybe he’s just not that into her.
No.
That couldn’t be.
Not after the way he’d been kissing her.
Not after the way his hands were still resting on her ass.
She pushes the thought aside.
“Wanna take this into the bedroom?” she asks, trying to catch his eyes.
He swallows.
Nods.
Maybe drunk…
Who cares?
Ben kisses her again before taking her hand and leading her down the short hallway toward the bedroom.
The room is modest.
Comfortable.
A queen-sized bed with crisp white sheets. Dark wood furniture.
A cream-colored area rug stretching across the hardwood floor.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing she’d remember tomorrow.
Hopefully.
When Isla falls backward onto the bed, she watches him.
Eyes boring into him.
One fist hovers near his mouth as his eyes follow every movement she makes.
His Adam’s apple bobs.
He’s practically vibrating.
Cute.
She hooks her thumbs beneath the lace waistband of her G-string and slowly slides it down one leg.
Ben drops to his knees.
Fuck yes.
This.
This is what she’s been waiting for.
Her pulse pounds in her ears.
Every nerve ending comes alive.
Any second now—
She watches him inch closer.
She can actually hear herself breathing.
Ben adjusts himself on the rug.
Then leans forward.
Isla braces for the first touch of his mouth.
Instead—
The unmistakable sound of someone gagging.
Her eyes fly open.
Gagging?
Isla immediately looks between her legs.
Ben.
Dry heaving.
Into the cream-colored rug.
“What in the actual fuck is going on?”
She scrambles backward so quickly she nearly launches herself off the opposite side of the bed, snapping her legs shut in one frantic motion.
Then, without even thinking, she performs a lightning-fast inspection.
Everything appears…
Normal.
“Please, Isla. Let me explain.” He pants.
Ben is still on his knees, one hand braced against the rug like it might betray him at any second.
His face is pale.
Like the “I just saw God and he was disgusted in me” pale.
Isla sits frozen on the edge of the bed, G-string still halfway down one thigh, trying to process the fact that the hottest moment of her week has just been derailed by what sounds suspiciously like a near-death experience.
“Explain?” She repeats slowly. “You want to explain that?’
She gestures vaguely between his face and the crime scene on the rug all while tugging the rest of her clothes back on.
Ben swallows hard.
“It’s just—okay, I need you to understand something before you—before you decide I’m insane.”
Isla stares at him.
“I’m already leaning that way, but go ahead.”
He exhales shakily.
“I’ve never… done that before.”
Silence.
Not even the air-conditioning dares to move.
Isla tilts her head.
“Done what, exactly?”
Ben closed his eyes like he’s about to confess to a felony.
“I brought you here because I needed to know.”
“Know what?”
He finally looks up at her.
“If I like women.”
The room goes still again.
Isla doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
“…I’m sorry,” she says slowly. “Run that by me again.“
Ben’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away this time.
“I’m gay.”
A beat.
Then another.
The weight of it settles in the room like something physical.
Isla exhales, sharp and disbelieving.
“So let me get this straight,” she says, voice carefully controlled. “You took me on a date, kissed me like you were auditioning for a a romance novel cover, brought me back here, and all of this was … what? A field test?”
Ben flinches but ultimately nods in head in confirmation.
Isla look at him for a long moment, then lets out a short, humorless laugh.
“You know,” she says, “most people figure that out in college. Or therapy.”
A flicker of something—guilt, maybe—crosses his face.
“I apologize for leading you on.”
Isla’s face stays frozen in disbelief.
Because this is one disastrous dating story she’ll be telling for the rest of her life.
Sure, she was weirdly flattered he’d chosen her for his “last-ditch” attempt at figuring himself out.
But there was also a tiny ridiculous part of her that was defeated.
Not because Ben was gay.
But because she wasn’t magical enough to turn him straight.
She’d just been rejected by a homosexual who dry-heaved at the sight of her vagina.
Jesus Christ.
Maybe she should become a nun.
Amen.
Hi, I'm E. Lynn Jimenez—
a writer, storyteller, and firm believer that life's best moments are found somewhere between laughter, love, and a really good glass of wine. When I'm not writing stories filled with humor, heart, and happily-ever-afters worth waiting for, you'll find me laughing with the love of my life and showing my children that with hard work, faith, and a little courage, dreams really can come true. Through The Hollow Quill, I hope to create stories that make readers laugh, swoon, and believe in love again.
